Owing to a very difficult and challenging couple of months, I was unable to sit down and share my thoughts on the passing of two giants who impacted me and many others in profound ways.

Those two giants are Imam Jamil al-Amin and Imam Talib Abdul Rashid. To call them giants is an understatement. They were mountains—mountains of men—and, like mountains, they cast long shadows.

Growing up in the 1960s in what is now referred to as the “hood,” it would have been hard to miss the voice then known as H. Rap Brown.

Like Muhammad Ali, Malcolm X, Stokely Carmichael, Huey Newton, Bobby Seale, George Jackson, Angela Davis, and a long litany of female freedom fighters whose names we did not know then, Imam Jamil had absorbed the heat of the era, processed the mechanisms of oppression fueling it, and emitted a laser-like fire that would prove too much for the security apparatus of the state.

That fire has been captured for posterity in his riveting book, “Die Nigger Die!”

Owing to his strident, unyielding, and uncompromising advocacy for Black Power, he became a marked man, hounded by J. Edgar Hoover’s FBI. Hoover himself was motivated by a personal vendetta that endured long after his death. This led to Imam Jamil being framed twice for murder, the second time successfully.

I will never accept that Imam Jamil killed the police officer for which he was convicted. He was not a liar; had he committed the crime, he would not have claimed innocence. He was not a coward; had he committed the crime, he would not have been afraid to face the consequences.

His case powerfully demonstrates how easily our criminal justice system can be manipulated in favor of powerful individuals and institutions.

To illustrate, the policeman who survived the encounter near Imam Jamil’s masjid insisted that he had shot the assailant. A trail of blood was found at the scene, but it did not match Imam Jamil’s. He had no wounds, punctures, or lacerations at the time of his arrest.

Despite these facts, they were ruled inadmissible at trial, as was the subsequent confession of Otis Jackson, who admitted he was the gunman.

On a lighter personal note, I recall attending the Muslim Olympics and the Riyada sporting events with Imam Jamil in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

Imam Jamil was a mainstay in the basketball tournament. Unlike his Atlanta-based basketball team, our Connecticut team never made the finals. Imam Jamil’s squad actually eliminated us one year, if my memory serves me correctly.

A gifted high school athlete, Imam Jamil loved basketball, frequently playing at the public court a couple of minutes’ walk from his masjid. I recall playing there myself, along with other family members, during one of our family’s Atlanta reunions.

In early 1993, I joined Imam Jamil and Dr. Betty Shabazz (Malcolm X’s widow) for a program at Manhattan’s 96th Street Masjid. Imam Jamil had to leave early, so he spoke before me. I did, however, have a private meeting afterward with Dr. Shabazz.

She advised that Sunni Muslims need to claim Malcolm X, because everyone else has—socialists, nationalists, and others. History will judge how well we have done in that regard.

As it relates to Imam Jamil, if we failed him in life by not building the type of movement needed to effect his release, we cannot fail him after his passing by letting his memory and teachings die. We need his fearlessness, truth-telling, and dedication to his people, dīn, and community now more than ever.

Later that year, I spent over a week with Imam Jamil at Dar al-Islam in Abiquiú, New Mexico, at the Muslim Pow Wow. This event, organized by Shaykh Hamza Yusuf, was a spiritual and networking retreat at the then-expansive Dar al-Islam property, bringing together Muslim leaders, organizers, and activists from across the country.

Many might find it unusual that Imam Jamil would be at such a gathering. However, anyone familiar with him knew of his deep spiritual presence and intensely contemplative nature. He was not merely an attendee; he was an active participant.

I will never forget one of the stories he told:

“In a jungle village in India, there was a story of how the villagers would occasionally be threatened by a tiger. In the story, the villagers would always track down and kill the tiger. A young boy observed that sometimes the tiger would kill a villager. Perplexed, he said to his father, ‘Baba, sometimes the tiger kills a villager. Why is that never mentioned when people tell the story?’ His father looked at the boy and calmly replied, ‘Son, you’ll hear about dead villagers when the tiger starts telling the story.’”

In an understudied volume, “Revolution by the Book: The Rap Is Live,” Imam Jamil shows how liberation, revolution as spiritual evolution, family dedication, and community building can be woven into a harmonious whole through Islam.

He served as chairman of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), was a key architect of the Black Power Movement, and played a brief but significant role in the Black Panther Party. At the time of his final incarceration in 2000, he headed an expanding international network of over twenty-five Muslim communities.

My interactions with Imam Talib were more frequent, owing in part to Imam Jamil’s long incarceration. I was blessed with more than just occasional encounters. I met with him for hours to strategize or discuss community issues.

I delivered khutbahs at the Mosque of Islamic Brotherhood (MIB) in his beloved Harlem and joined him afterward at one of his favorite African restaurants.

Imam Talib also had a history with Shaykh Hamza. Shortly after his conversion, Shaykh Hamza moved to New York and became a de facto member of MIB. He supported himself in part by selling perfumes and incense on the streets and subway platforms of NYC. He was present at the infamous shootout that erupted in front of MIB when local organizers of a block party refused to turn the music down so the Muslims could pray. Some brothers from the MIB security detail went down to the street and flipped over the DJ table, sending the music equipment into the street. That is when the bullets started to fly.

Having witnessed all of this firsthand, Shaykh Hamza got on the “first thing smoking” off to England.

Imam Talib was a scholar, strategist, activist, and networker. He could be found in the trenches on the picket line with striking service workers, facing arrest at JFK Airport protesting Trump’s so-called Muslim ban, refuting anti-Muslim bigots, or organizing black churches to support the campaign of New York’s mayor-elect, Zohran Mamdani.

They say you don’t truly know a man until you have traveled with him. In 2009, I had the great honor of traveling overland with Imam Talib from Bamako to Timbuktu, in the heart of the West African nation of Mali. The journey, arranged by Islamic Relief, was long and arduous. Along the way, we lost two of the four Land Cruisers we had started the journey with. Throughout the trip, Imam Talib never once complained of pain or discomfort, despite the health challenges he was facing. His insightful commentary, penetrating wisdom, and, at times, stoic silence made the journey richer for all who were blessed to share in his remarkable company for nearly two weeks.

I will never forget my final two visits with Imam Talib. The first, accompanied by my wife, was shortly after he left a New York rehabilitation facility where he had spent over a year battling diabetes. Half of one foot and several toes on the other had to be amputated. However, for whatever he lost physically, he was exponentially increased spiritually. I have never seen the likes of the light radiating from his face that day (see photo below).

The second visit was a few weeks before his death. I delivered the Friday khutbah at MIB. Imam Talib was unable to attend physically, but his spirit permeated every inch of the masjid. After Jumu’ah, I drove over to his apartment. He had prepared a delicious meal. We discussed everything from black liberation to the challenges and progress of the Ummah to the promise of Zohran Mamdani, whose mayoral candidacy he had vigorously supported. Departing, my cup was truly running over.

We like to say that great people stand on the shoulders of giants. Both Imam Jamil and Imam Talib stood on the shoulders of the giants who preceded them: Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, Shaykh Tawfiq, Shaykh Dawud Faisal, Mother Khadija, Imam Wali Akram, Dr. Izzeldin, the waves of African Muslims who preceded us in this land, back to the Companions, and back to the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah upon him).

Like Imam Jamil, Imam Talib was an effective leader. He was active on many New York City boards and commissions and served as head of the Islamic Leadership Council of Metropolitan New York (ILCMNY), as well as president of the Muslim Alliance in North America (MANA).

In conclusion, I could never repay the debt I owe to Imams Jamil al-Amin and Talib Abdul Rashid. I pray that I can do enough during my remaining years, months, weeks, or days to say that I stood on their broad shoulders and expressed my appreciation in word and deed for the shade they provided for those of us down here in the valley.

May they rest in peace.

© January 5, 2026

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