I just finished reading the Autobiography of Malcolm X. As I approached the end of the book, I was also approaching the sad story of the end of his life, of his infamous assassination. It is sad that Malcolm X had to die in such a violent way, it is sad that his father was also a victim of violence. It is sad that his family was separated, that his mother was no longer able to uphold. It is sad that he was part of a society that forced him into taking narcotics, stealing, robbing, and prostitution. Most often he was criticized for the changes in his attitudes and philosophies. A man that is steadfast in his unfaltering ways, unable to see his wrong and make changes, is a foolish man. Malcolm X was not. He was constantly evaluating, challenging, and speculating. Hence, this should be not taken as a criticism, but rather, a compliment. Tears came to my eyes as I read the last pages of this book. I have never felt superior to any African American, but after reading this book, my feelings towards African Americans has changed. I feel inferior. They have struggled for so many years in a country that has created a social structure that has handicapped them, to say the least. They suffered tribulation after tribulation. They are fortunate to have Malcolm X as one of them, and for that I love them more.