The thing about death is that, even when it is the only assured thing in life, we never seem to expect it. It is more difficult to accept when it hits close to home. In some cases, home doesn’t even have to be close. I had left my phone charging for about an hour or so. I was watching TV with my family in the living room. It is important to leave your cellphone rest for a while, especially when most of us have been using it so much during these times. I left social media a while ago, around March when the pandemic was beginning to rise in the New Continent. Although my mind is a little at ease because of it, one thing I really miss is the fact that I was always up to date with what was happening around the world. Social media has that quickness. Nevertheless, now I rely on news apps; various of them (never trust news from one source only). It’s great, but it is slow and impersonal.
These past few days, I wished I was back on the beautiful mess that is Film Twitter. Its obnoxiousness, although too much at times, to the point of being too heavy for me to carry emotionally and mentally, was always balanced with the almost nonexistent moments of agreement. Those moments were fewer, but always felt greater and it reminded me that people, no matter what, always unite in times of great adversity and pain. Everyone has felt pain at some point. Just like I did when I finally took my phone last night and the breaking news notifications of three very different apps were in unfortunate agreement: Actor Chadwick Boseman had passed away.
I didn’t cry, but I was shocked, and numbed, and empty. How? In my mind, I couldn’t grasp the idea of what I’d just learned. He wasn’t close. Hell, he didn’t even know who I was. Then, why did it hurt? I really don’t know, but I haven’t stopped thinking about him since. I was in awe of his bravery, of how he decided to fight this big fight in silence, with those that were really close to him. Four years where he became an icon, not only because he decided to dress as a wild cat who happens to be a king and a superhero. He also used his career to bring attention to some of the real heroes our community has ever given to this world. Look at his brief career carefully: he knew what he was doing with his talent, with the responsibility he had because of it. He knew he was being seen and he didn’t waste any decision. He brought the spotlight to us, to the people that to this day still need to remind the privileged how lucky they are that a family member of them isn’t being shot in the back seven times.
He used his talent to bring to life talented people that we see as aspirations, as reminders that we can become the best at what we do, whether it’s baseball, soul, justice, or heroism. He reminded us that even when they are trying to suffocate us, we can persist. His best role wasn’t even watched on the big screen. His biggest role was the one he had to play whenever the cameras turned off. He was a survivor. His fight might be over, but like many before him, he now becomes an inspiration to those who seek the strength of opening their eyes for another day.
I believe he left us too soon. I also believe he did plenty with his life and never took for granted the opportunity of sharing his air with us. I will always remember him. Thank you for being you and for letting us be witnesses of how you decided to help the world. That the fight is not over until we achieve real equality, but at least you and the other angels that have left us abruptly these past few months (and years) will give us the energy to achieve our dreams. Rest in power, Chadwick.
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