By MICHELLE BEARDEN mbearden@tampatrib.com Published: Mar 4, 2003 http://www.tampatrib.com/News/MGA0NRFHVCD.html ST. PETERSBURG - He came into this world Otha Favors Jr., named for his daddy. From the late 1960s through the mid-1970s, they called him a black militant, a drug kingpin, an agitator. He founded the Black Youth for Peace and Power, organized boycotts, protested police harassment, demanded black studies courses at the University of South Florida. Federal authorities kept a file on him. Local police arrested him, although he never was convicted. The studious St. Petersburg native doesn't deny his colorful past, but he says it has little to do with the man he is today. In 1976, after much reflection and research, he cast aside his Christian upbringing and embraced Islam. Three years later, Otha Favors was gone forever when he adopted the Muslim name Askia Muhammad Aquil. ``Being a Muslim has helped me understand what true manhood is all about,'' says Aquil, 56, director of the nonprofit St. Petersburg Neighborhood Housing Services. ``In my younger days, I was jousting at windmills and trying to correct injustices and not always doing it with the best judgment. Islam has given me the guidelines to live a more centered, more balanced life.'' That's a sentiment echoed by many black American Muslim men in his age group. They were among the disenchanted thousands who turned to the Nation of Islam during and immediately after the civil-rights movement of the 1960s. Nation of Islam, led by Elijah Muhammad and catapulted into national prominence by Malcolm X, gave them a voice and a proud, black community. Although they professed loyalty to the Koran, the Islamic holy book, black Muslims of that era were more radical than religious. They bonded in their hatred of the white race and envisioned building a nation of strong, black leaders. ``I got involved more out of racial consciousness,'' says Abdul Latif Bilal, formerly Charles Hadley. ``The Nation [of Islam] was really a nationalistic movement disguised as religion. Most of us sympathized with the Black Panthers, but we worked within the system. So this gave us a more legitimate platform.'' Bilal, a 59-year-old landscaper who makes his home in his native Tampa, recalls the despair when the organization began to fracture from within. First came the 1965 assassination of Malcolm X by insiders. Then, after Muhammad's 1975 death, the power struggle between his son, Warith Deen Mohammed (who spelled his name differently from his father), and Louis Farrakhan, a top NOI official. Mohammed, who had studied Islamic doctrine and found contradictions with NOI theology, wanted the organization to renounce his late father's separatist ideas and bring its practices closer to Sunni Islam. He eventually renamed the group the American Muslim Society, which now claims about 2 million members nationwide, and reshaped its teachings to reflect mainstream Islam. Farrakhan, meanwhile, denounced Mohammed's plans and left the organization, taking a splinter group with him. Although the two groups have sparred publicly over the years, they have made several conciliatory overtures, with Farrakhan attempting to distance himself from earlier anti-Semitic and antiwhite views. A Moral Path For African-American Muslims like Aquil and Bilal who chose traditional Islam, the post-Sept. 11 atmosphere has been a test of faith. They, too, have suffered the anti-Muslim backlash, although they concede it's not been as difficult for them as for Muslims of Middle Eastern descent. ``As black men, we know about discrimination. We've already dealt with adversity,'' Bilal says. ``So as Muslims, we're more prepared to handle it.'' Friends of Seifuddin Akram, a community service officer with the Tampa Police Department, might be surprised by his initial exposure to Islam. When he was a teenager in Connecticut, the former James Edward Douglas Jr. used to hang out near the Black Panthers headquarters in New Haven, intrigued by the group's work in the community. Despite the Panthers' reputation as radical, he saw only the contributions they were making in the community. ``They were doing good things, like feeding the local children and inspiring our people to raise our standards, respect our women,'' says Akram, 52. ``They mainly were talking socialist stuff, so I helped hand out pamphlets.'' After a stint in the Army from 1969 to 1971, the young Douglas returned from Germany to a land where blacks still hadn't achieved equality, and racial anger still resonated. It didn't seem fair; he had volunteered for military service and had served his country. Akram says he may have drifted back to the Panthers and a more revolutionary lifestyle had a friend not introduced him to the Nation of Islam. He believes that his conversion to the faith in 1975 helped him make good choices, paving the way to a career in law enforcement. ``It could have gone either way for me. I'm grateful for how Islam shaped my life,'' he says. ``I never really felt comfortable as a Christian. That was the faith forced on us when we were brought here as slaves.'' World Acceptance Indeed, to talk about black history without addressing Islam is a ``serious injustice,'' says Abdul Ali, 55, of St. Petersburg, a distributor for health and beauty products. The former Matthew Savage converted in 1975, attracted by Islam's message of black independence and its healthy dietary laws, which include no drinking, no smoking and no pork. As he delved into the religion's history, he learned about its connection to his African ancestors and how many slaves were forced to abandon their Muslim beliefs and adopt their owners' Christian theology. For modern-day African- American Muslims, he says, Islam is like returning home. ``We still suffer a lack of true identity,'' he says of blacks in this country. ``The institution of slavery has ended, but the effects of it still remain in our psyche. Islam has done a tremendous job of returning our self-esteem and self-worth.'' Ali acknowledges ``somewhat of a historic separation'' between blacks and immigrants in the U.S. Muslim community. He says the perception among Muslims from other countries was that converts from ``evil and wicked America'' couldn't possibly be true followers of the faith. That division has eased since W. Deen Mohammed redirected American Muslims to mainstream doctrine and began representing the religion at interfaith conferences all over the world. Ali believes the work and example of black Muslim leaders over the last 30 years has made it easier for immigrants to practice their Islamic faith in this country. ``We laid the foundation here,'' he says. ``This isn't something that happened overnight.'' For Aquil, the memories of the young man who fought for change and challenged the law in a time of unrest are faded but not forgotten. His first and middle adopted names - Askia Muhammad - come from an African leader who unified warring groups during the 15th century. His last name is Arabic for wise and intelligent. In his incarnation as a Muslim, he strives to live up to his name. It's a struggle, but this struggle doesn't make him angry or frustrated. In fact, it's made easier by praying five times a day, a requirement of his faith. ``I've found peace with Islam.'' |