To Count is to Matter
To say Black Lives Matter is to say that Black people count, that when one of us is hurt or unjustly executed, it is felt and it reverberates through families, communities, institutions, and the world at large. It is to say that there is a void that is left, people affected and a real, tangible pain experienced when a Black life is taken. Today we still cry for Sandra Bland, for Trayvon Martin, Philando Castille & George Floyd because they were people. Full, complex, beautiful people who had firm places in the world and took up definite space in their homes, workplaces, and humankind. We say Black Lives Matter simply because they do- they are not frivolous nor vacuous, they are not dispensable nor insignificant and to extinguish one has detrimental repercussions that long last in the hearts and psyches of the Black community.
Black like me, Black for me
Chadwick Boseman understood what it meant to be a Black man in a world (and more importantly in a country) that does not behold the intrinsic value and personhood of Black people (at least not in the same light as their White counterparts). He exemplified our mattering by pursuing roles that depicted Black men as men of integrity and character. Taking up the burden of responsibility to represent us honestly and boldly.
Chadwick Boseman advocated for Black Lives in the most subtle yet purest way. He fought for our stories to be told from a hopeful and realistic lens. He fought for our truth, resisting all oppressive and racist stereotypes and seeking to portray us as human, conscientious, compassionate, and vulnerable. Showing the world that we too can be honourable, humble, and teachable, that we can uphold familial bonds and build legacies, that we too are people- intricate, nuanced, individual, and spectacular. Because of his commitment to us and our community, my nieces and nephews get to grow up imagining futures as brave and extra-ordinary men & women, living wide-open lives and taking up space, unconfined by their pigmentation or hair texture.
Black & Christian
Chadwick Boseman died at the age of 43. My oldest brother is 43- it would be no reach for me to say when I looked at him, I saw my big brother. Like many, when I looked at Chadwick I saw myself, and to lose him feels deeply personal. Today I remember him as if I were grieving my own.
I can never forget the day I received the call about my brother's illness. At the time, my mother was unaware of the prognosis but he had been hospitalised for severe migraines and long-standing ear & nose bleeds. I still can feel the chill and numbness in my body when I got the follow-up call from my sister, informing me that he had been diagnosed with Stage 4 Leukemia and it wasn't looking good.
How does one process the fact that one of their people is dying? Or the fact that someone you had always envisioned in your future most likely won't feature in it at all. My 19-year-old self could not deal and instead, picked up a drink which I didn't quite put down for some years to follow. My brother's struggle with cancer is by far the most trying thing my family has ever had to grapple with. The pain, the fear, the overwhelming sense of helplessness are feelings I would not wish on anybody. To this day, it is not an experience I can bring myself to openly share and will swiftly bring this part of my story to a close.
Over the past week, I have tried to wrap my head around HOW Chadwick Boseman could produce such powerful films whilst fighting for his health and life. I can so vividly recall the fragility that took over my brothers' body and cannot make sense of the inner strength and resolution he must have garnered within himself daily to deliver such excellent work. The only explanation I can find is the same one I give people when they ask HOW my brother survived after the doctors' told us to begin making funeral arrangements.
My faith in Jesus Christ began with my brother's full recovery. Despite having been raised in the church, my beliefs became my own when I witnessed my mother's prayers being answered and medical doctors bewilderment. To be Black & Christian today is an unfavourable and difficult life choice. Not only is our faith continuously critiqued but it is also continually under attack. How can you love Black people and believe in a religion that has harmed Black folk for centuries? For me- to be Black & Christian is not to have Faith in white-supremacist agenda's or have faith in a white-washed image of a hippie Jesus. To be Black & Christian is to believe in a God who is Creator and Sustainer of my soul, to love a Saviour who gave up His life so that I might have it to the fullest, to believe in a redemption story that has written me in and to live with full confidence that I am seen, loved and treasured.
It is out of our deep hope in Jesus, the promises and realities of abundant life now and to come, that I choose to serve Him rather than to be served. I have seen him heal and deliver and change, and I believe it is that same hope and grace that infused a spirit of intention, excellence, and purpose in Chadwick Boseman. I see the image of Jesus ever so brightly in his life, a life lived so deliberately and with great endurance. A self-less life that made visible and full contributions to society, pointing towards a bigger picture of freedom and prosperity.
To live is Christ, To die is Gain
Much like Jesus, Chadwick picked up his cross and ran his race. He cared enough about the presentation of Black people to make difficult decisions and major sacrifices. Even in suffering, he fulfilled his calling and finished strong. His life and death have reminded me of why Jesus came in the first place, to give me life and life abundantly- not to drift through my time on earth aimlessly, but to impact and touch and fight and love and BE. To use my voice and my gifts for others and to bear much fruit.
I find great solace in the knowledge that as a believer, Chadwick Boseman's life did not end in pain and suffering. But that in this very moment, he is in full glory, amidst our Creator, having spent his time on earth purposefully and not accidentally. I imagine him leaping with joy as the Father whispers "Well done Good and Faithful Servant."
Our Dearest T'Challa, we remember you. Forever.
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