Why our grief is loud when Black heroes die
No one’s saying Chadwick Boseman was a (panther) god.
He wasn’t the Second Coming of Christ. He wasn’t the preeminent civil rights leader of our era. He wasn’t the be-all and end-all of Black excellence.
But, he was a symbol. He was an icon. He was a hero.
That’s why his death has rippled across the Black community with punctuated pangs of grief, frustration and despair.
To their credit, Chadwick’s network of family, friends and supporters kept his colon cancer diagnosis under wraps for four years, even this past May, when Internet trolls hounded him for his gaunt appearance in a social media post. We didn’t realize at the time that he was in the final stages of battling the illness that would take his life on Aug. 28, the same day Major League Baseball celebrated Jackie Robinson Day after moving it from April because of the coronavirus. In 2013, Boseman portrayed the trailblazing baseball player in “42.”
Chadwick’s death shocked a lot of us, but I argue, aside from his family, friends and colleagues, his loss is particularly devastating for Black people.
That’s because our heroes always seem to die.
For those who haven’t been paying attention, existing while Black has never been easy. From the collectively shared…
