I was 14 years when Muhammad Ali captured the heavyweight title and the American imagination. I’m in my 67th year as he joins the ancestors. I realize at this moment Ali’s imprint defined my social consciousness.
He was the constant in an ever-changing morally relative political universe. As I watched the news coverage of his passing, I didn’t have a feeling of sadness but a sense awe at the profound impact of his life and was overwhelmed with gratitude that I lived during the time he was among us.
As I reflected on Ali’s life, what struck me was not so much who he was, but what he was. Muhammad Ali was a hero! Not the way we normally understand hero – you know, the average person who raises to the occasion at some special moment, but then rejoins the rest of us mortals. Webster defines hero as a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent with great strength and ability or the central figure in an event, period or movement.
To understand Ali’s place in our American narrative, you have to reference the classic literature of Greek mythology, like “The Iliad.” As much Achilles or Hector in Homer’s mythic history of the Trojan War, he processed all the qualities of the classic hero: strength, skill, courage, intelligence, loyalty and an extraordinary empathy for those who needed defending. All these qualities were forged in the white-hot furnace of American racism.
This is what he had to say when he emerged from that furnace: “I am America, I am the part you won’t recognize. But get used to me, black, confident, cocky; my name, not yours; my religion, not yours; my goals, my own. Get used to me!”
Those who read these words today might say, “What’s the big deal?” This was America circa 1964, when Muhammad Ali came to the public consciousness a fully formed black warrior in the Age of the American Negro.
It is impossible to articulate what Ali means to me and my generation. In real time it’s impossible to pinpoint the most defining event of any historical period, but you can argue the America we live in today would not be possible but for Muhammad Ali.
In classic literature, the hero – in the face of great danger – combats adversity through impressive feats of ingenuity, bravery and strength, often sacrificing his own well being for the greater good.
Ali’s stance against the Vietnam War and his refusal to be drafted is the classic definition of heroic. Not only did he put his life’s work and everything he had achieved at risk, he did battle with the United States government and the entirety of white America as a matter of conscience and principle.
What do those of us who lived during his time owe his memory? Like the Greeks who followed Achilles to the gates of Troy or the Trojans who stood with Hector to defend it, we must bear witness to what we saw. We must tell his story to our children and grandchildren, and they in turn must tell their children and grandchildren through the ages, so we and the world can never forget what he did and on whose behalf he did it.
We must produce our Homer to write his Iliad, so that thousands of years from now history will know of our epic struggle told through feats of our great hero.
As he passes into legend, I smile knowing I have the answer to that ever-asked question, “Who was the greatest of all time?” Rest in peace, Champ.
Mike Jones is a member of the St. Louis American editorial board and of the Missouri State Board of Education.
