I would hope people would stop looking at closely cropped videos without context and spreading deliberate disinformation. Drudge is the guy doing this the most.
In 1995, Barack Obama was doing a reading of his just released autobiography. This passage is related to a discussion of Malcolm X and the Nation of Islam. He is reading the passage and is using a “black voice” because the speaker is another black man, which Obama clearly thinks is stupid.
And, too: If Malcolm’s discovery toward the end of his life, that some whites might live beside him as brothers in Islam, seemed to offer some hope of eventual reconciliation, that hope appeared in a distant future, in a far-off land. In the meantime, I looked to see where the people would come from who were willing to work toward this future and populate this new world. After a basketball game at the university gym one day, Ray and I happened to strike up a conversation with a tall, gaunt man named Malik who played with us now and again. Malik mentioned that he was a follower of the Nation of Islam but that since Malcolm had died and he had moved to Hawaii he no longer went to mosque or political meetings, although he still sought comfort in solitary prayer. One of the guys sitting nearby must have overheard us, for he leaned over with a sagacious expression on his face.
“You all talking about Malcolm, huh? Malcolm tells it like it is, no doubt about it.”
“Yeah,” another guy said. “But I tell you what-you won’t see me moving to no African jungle anytime soon. Or some goddamned desert somewhere, sitting on a carpet with a bunch of Arabs. No sir. And you won’t see me stop eating no ribs.” “Gotta have them ribs.”
“And pussy, too. Don’t Malcolm talk about no pussy? Now you know that ain’t gonna work.”
I noticed Ray laughing and looked at him sternly. “What are you laughing at?” I said to him. “You’ve never read Malcolm. You don’t even know what he says.”
Ray grabbed the basketball out of my hand and headed for the opposite rim. “I don’t need no books to tell me how to be black,” he shouted over his head. I started to answer, then turned to Malik, expecting some words of support. But the Muslim said nothing, his bony face set in a faraway smile.