Turning Movements Into Men

Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X are among the most recognizable figures in American history. We learn their names early. We see their quotes on posters. We revisit their speeches. And while honoring them matters, the way we are taught their stories often misses something critical.

We turn movements into men.  That framing is powerful, but it’s also dangerous.

The Cost of Personifying a Movement

Putting a movement into the body of one person makes it easier to rally people. It gives the struggle a face, a voice, a symbol. However, it can also shrink the movement by highlighting the change as if it was driven by a single extraordinary man instead of millions of ordinary people. It quietly shifts focus away from the millions of Black Americans who were and still are impacted by centuries of delayed rights, stolen opportunities, and systemic resistance.

More importantly, it creates a target.

When a movement is personified by one individual, it becomes easier to disrupt. History shows us that assassination was not an accident or coincidence, it was a tactic. Medgar Evers. Malcolm X. Martin Luther King Jr. Removing a leader didn’t end the movement, but it slowed momentum, fractured trust, and sent a chilling message about the cost of resistance, a message meant to intimidate and discourage.

That part of the story deserves more attention.

Let’s Get Uncomfortable

Malcolm X’s assassination, in particular, is often discussed incompletely.

While he is now widely celebrated, we don’t talk enough about the reality that his death did not come from a vague, faceless enemy. Sometimes the danger doesn’t come from the outside, some “boogey man,” or the government. Sometimes it doesn’t come from white supremacy in its most obvious form.

Sometimes it comes from within.

Ego. Power. Fear of losing relevance. The inability to accept growth or change. When people become more invested in protecting their position than advancing progress, movements can be destroyed from the inside. That truth is uncomfortable, but it’s necessary.

When a movement grows beyond the control of those who once led it, or when someone evolves past the version of themselves others are comfortable with, resistance doesn’t always look like open opposition. Sometimes it looks like sabotage. Sometimes it looks like silence. Sometimes it looks like violence.

Ignoring internal power struggles, unchecked ego, and loyalty enforced through fear doesn’t protect a movement. It weakens it. And in Malcolm X’s case, it cost a life, and altered the course of history.

Why Sanitized History Fails Us

When we teach history as triumph without struggle, we turn real people into myths and rob future generations of the lessons they need to survive.

We rarely discuss:

·  The criticism and resistance MLK and Malcolm X faced from their own communities and people.

·  The pressure to accept incremental progress instead of demanding justice, to “stay quiet,” “be grateful,” or “take what you’re given” and navigating it.

·  The real role the U.S. government played through surveillance, illegal wiretapping, and harassment.

·  The reality that institutions meant to protect rights, actively worked to suppress them.

HISTORY IS NOT JUST A RECORD OF WHAT HAPPENED, IT IS A WARNING!

History is full of people who ended up on the wrong side of it not because they didn’t know better, but because they chose power, fear, or self-interest over justice.

We need to use this as a cautionary tale to stop blindly relying on systems. To stop believing systems cannot fail. To stop believing people cannot fail. To stop believing government officials, institutions, or those in power are incapable of bias simply because of the roles they hold.

They can be biased.

They have been biased.

And history proves it.

The world is full of people we later discover stood on the wrong side of history, not because they lacked information, but because they chose power over principle, comfort over courage, and personal agendas over collective responsibility. Many failed to protect those they were supposed to protect. Many abused the authority they were entrusted with. And many justified their actions by hiding behind systems that allowed them to do so.

The Real Lesson Black History Teaches

If Black history teaches us anything, it’s this: no one is coming to save us.

They never have.

Progress has always come from collective effort. From numbers. From people educating themselves, organizing, questioning authority, protecting one another, and refusing to disappear quietly.

That’s why the saying still holds true: one monkey don’t stop no show.

The movement didn’t die with Malcolm X.
It didn’t end with Martin Luther King Jr.
It didn’t stop with Medgar Evers.

Because the movement was never meant to live in one body.

What We Should Be Teaching Instead

Black history is not just about what we overcame, it’s about how we survived:

• By understanding that systems can fail

• By recognizing that leaders are human

• By refusing blind trust in institutions

• By knowing our power multiplies when it’s shared

This is also why self-study matters.

Because many historical accounts are written from the standpoint of the very institutions that caused the harm. We’re taught the “official version,” not the full account, critical details are omitted, softened, or reframed. You are given his story, not the whole story. You are taught outcomes without context, victories without cost, and leadership without the resistance that tried to crush it.

Self-study is not optional when your history has been filtered, sanitized, or controlled. It is an act of self-preservation. It is how you learn what was left out, who was silenced, and why certain truths were never emphasized in the first place.

If Black history teaches us anything, it is this: systems do not save people, people save people. Progress has never come from blind trust. It has always come from awareness, numbers, and collective action.

No one is coming to save us. They never have.

And maybe the most important lesson of all:

We are still here.
We are still pushing forward.

We are still questioning and demanding, not asking for common decency and God given rights.
We are still marching, sometimes in the streets, sometimes in courtrooms, classrooms, boardrooms, and homes.

And every single day, in some way, we did overcome.