I flagged down the black Cadillac approaching my house and opened the door. The driver, an elderly Muslim man with a bushy beard and thick glasses, sprung out of the car with surprising energy and volunteered to help with my bags. As we pulled away from my house, my kind-hearted driver launched into spirited conversation, recanting his interaction with his previous passenger that morning, who had left him an unfairly negative review. I was heading into what would be a frustrating, unpleasant morning and even though I wasn’t in a great mood, I nonetheless must have indicated I was a sympathetic spirit, because he continued on, saying he has always been known for his friendly attitude. Why, he said, even back in his professional bodybuilder days, Arnold used to always say “My friend Ali Malla, he has such a friendly attitude!”
My ears perked up now. I pulled out my phone and searched the internet as my driver went on. By the time we hit the freeway, I deduced my driver was a former competitive bodybuilder named Ali Malla. “So, wait,” I said. “You mean Arnold Schwarzenegger? Take me back to your bodybuilding days.”
The car lurched to a halt in traffic. And Ali Malla told me his life story.
Ali was born in Syria in 1952, shortly before his family moved to Lebanon. His family is of Kurdish descent. The people of Kurdistan are from a region that shares territory with Turkey, Iraq, Iran, and Syria. In many parts of the world, they are an oppressed minority, with a significant population in diaspora around the globe. Their plight is similar to that of the Armenians. I interjected, here, to add I am of part-Armenian descent, which delighted him. From that point on he referred to me as “my brother!” (Ali insisted I listen to the music of famed Syrian-Armenian singer Aram Tigran, who recorded hundreds of popular songs in Kurdish. I am working my way through the Tigran discography as I write this.)
Growing up as a Kurdish child in Beirut, Lebanon, Ali was denied access to education, so he was unable to read, write, or learn to drive. He began working for a local supermarket as a delivery boy at eight years old. As a teenager, in 1969, he was mesmerized by an athletic magazine cover featuring Arnold Schwarzenegger and immediately knew he wanted to become a world champion bodybuilder and move to America! The next day, Ali started training, and within three intense years, he won the Mr. Beirut Competition, in 1972. The more prestigious Mr. Lebanon competition denied him entry due to his Kurdish ancestry. When the Lebanese Civil War erupted in 1975, Ali’s father scraped together enough money to buy him a plane ticket to Europe. He fled the only home he had ever known to pursue his dreams.
Ali made his way to East Berlin and, after dramatically hiding on a train, emerged in West Berlin. There, the owner of a local gym let him train for free if he would represent the gym in competitions. Speaking barely a single word of German, Ali won the title of “Mr. Berlin” only three months after arriving in the city. Over the next two years, after many events and local television appearances, he became a local celebrity, frequently greeted by admirers as he walked down city’s idyllic streets, speaking with them in his functional German that he had picked up in his time there.
Still, America eluded him: Ali was not able to get the necessary paperwork to emigrate. Instead, he moved to Stockholm, Sweden where, in just two short months, he won his first “Mr. Sweden” title. In Sweden, he applied for paperwork that would allow him to emigrate to the United States, a process that required a further three years. The day he got his paperwork, he knocked on the door of the American embassy. The following day, he was crossing the Atlantic.
Ali finally arrived in Los Angeles in 1980, drawn by the allure of the bodybuilding community’s burgeoning influence on popular culture. He stepped into the renowned World Gym in Venice, California and met his hero, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Ali quickly became a regular member of Venice’s “Muscle Beach” scene, working out every morning at the famed Venice Boardwalk. As Arnold and Ali became friends, Arnold eventually asked the newly emigrated Kurdish athlete to take part in a competition he ran. Before the end of 1980, Ali placed second place in the IFBB (International Fitness and Bodybuilding Federation) Mr. International Competition. A year later, in 1981, he placed first, becoming the light heavyweight class winner. Fulfilling his boyhood dream first envisioned on the streets of Beirut, Ali Malla had finally become World Champion, a professional bodybuilder.
Even as his career took off, racial prejudice followed him from the war-torn streets of Lebanon to the new world.
In 1985, Ali competed in the prestigious IFBB Night of Champions at New York City’s famed Madison Square Garden, in which he placed seventh out of ten. After the first round of competition, nine of the competitors were invited back to the stage for recognition. However, Ali was stopped abruptly backstage by one of the competition’s managers, who refused to let him join his peers. Ali pressed the man for an explanation and was refused. As their discussion heated into an argument, the crowd noticed Ali’s absence and began chanting his name. Backstage, as Ali stared into the manager’s cold eyes, he heard the echoes of three thousand fans chanting his name louder and louder: “Ali! Ali! Ali!” He asked the man blocking his path if the only reason he was not on stage was because of his race. The manager snapped at him, telling him to shut up and leave the premises. Ali felt his blood boil, but knew nothing would be gained by fighting with this man. He savored one last glare in the man’s eyes, took a deep breath, then turned his back and left Madison Square Garden.
In that moment, Ali Malla literally and metaphorically walked away from his career as a bodybuilder. He has no regrets. He says his goal was to become the world champion, and he accomplished that goal. From there, he had no interest in navigating the prejudice and politics he had unearthed in the profession.
He married in 1985, but suffered through a bitter divorce in 1992, in which he became estranged from his wife and five-year-old daughter. He still struggles to make peace with the fact that he has only spoken with his daughter once in the past thirty years, when she contacted him briefly after her twentieth birthday. He eventually remarried, to a woman he met while he was training members of the royal family in Saudi Arabia, and had three children.
Now, at the age of 72, Ali still has fond memories of hanging out with Arnold at Muscle Beach. He drives for a living, and does his best to keep in shape, training every morning, though he must avoid heavy weights now. Though he left his home, friends and family behind on the other side of the world a half century ago, Ali still visits his family back in Lebanon once a year. Whether he is facing off against a racist competition manager, or a surly Uber passenger, Ali always remembers his self-worth. He is always eager to share his story with anyone who will listen.
Traffic finally lightened, and Ali Malla dropped me off beneath the shadow of a towering office building downtown. I leaned forward and asked if we could grab a selfie together. He shot a thumbs-up and grinned for the camera, as I placed my hand on his shoulder.
Thank you, Ali, for brightening my dark morning. Meeting you was a good omen, because I faced my conflicts that afternoon inspired by your energy and, like you, emerged victorious. You’re a champion in my book!
-Bear
DISCLAIMER: I am not a biographer, and this piece was written twelve hours after our chat, based on what I could remember. I took a few dramatic liberties based on how his exciting story made me feel, and I filled in additional details from this short film.
