CHADWICK BOSEMAN: A SUPER HERO GONE TOO SOON LIFE, DEATH, AFRICAN AMERICANS, AND COLON CANCER

 

The August 28 death of actor Chadwick Boseman saddened the nation and the entertainment world and conjured up images of his groundbreaking role as Black Panther in one of the highest grossing films in the United States of 2018. Boseman’s death from colon cancer at 43 also provided a useful, if grim, reminder of the impact of the disease on African Americans and the need for effective counter measures in that population.

Boseman notoriously guarded his privacy, so he never told the world he’d been diagnosed with the disease in 2016. He kept acting, enjoying his Black Panther success while undergoing treatment.

 

A Short, Spectacular Career

Boseman grew up in Anderson, South Carolina, the son of a nurse and a textile worker. He earned a fine arts degree from

Howard University in 2000 and began a career focused on writing and directing. He only started studying acting because he hoped doing so would give him a better understanding of actors in his directing work. Though he kept writing plays, Boseman soon found success as an actor in television, beginning in 2003 with appearances in Third Watch and later in Law and Order, CSI:NY, and ER.

Boseman made his real mark in movies. In 2013, he played Jackie Robinson in 42, a movie that grossed $97 million against a budget of $40 million. Ironically, Boseman died on Jackie Robinson Day, the major league baseball players wear

Robinson’s No. 42.   A year after 42 Boseman portrayed legendary soul singer James Brown in Get on Up. Boseman in 2017 played a young Thurgood Marshall trying a rape case in Connecticut, long before Marshall became the nation’s first black U.S. Supreme Court Justice.  Then came Boseman’s biggest moment.

The Cultural Phenomenon of Black Panther

It’s difficult to overestimate the impact of Boseman’s work in Black Panther. Our March 8, 2018, post recorded our reactions to the film, reactions that demonstrated our individual approaches to entertainment, cultural phenomena, and racial issues. Woodson juxtaposed the film’s “confident and competent” depiction of people of color with the harsh portrayal presented by the current President of the United States. Rob viewed the picture in the context of other action movie franchises.  Henry, a long time Super Hero fan, discovered a movie that forged a spiritual connection with a world he’d longed for, but wasn’t sure he’d ever inhabit.

In tribute to the actor, Henry wrote, “I found immensely satisfying seeing a movie, in a genre in which I’ve reveled so long, depict a world that left no question of my own humanity and celebrated the notion people of African descent can be, and are, good or bad, human or inhuman, smart or not-so-smart, wise or unwise, compassionate or cruel.”  He continued, “Black Panther brought alive my own spirit and helped maintain a faith in humanity that’s been challenged in the last few years.”

For African Americans like Henry, who have worshiped in the Super Hero movie world for years, Bozeman’s performance provided hope. Death, rebirth, and courage brought the mythical hero to the hearts of people longing for a symbol rising above the reality of past bondage and continued oppression. Boseman, in the Black Panther role and in his portrayals of famous men, important men like Robinson, Brown, and Marshall, showed America people of color who altered history. They changed whispers to roars and helped move myth to reality. In tribute, Woodson observed, “Chadwick Boseman’s life and death expressed the urgency of now – embracing life’s calling and pursuing it to the end.”

As one of Henry’s grandchildren expressed it, “Black Panther is the baddest Super Hero ever.” In spite of Boseman’s enormous achievements by age 43, one can only imagine what his contributions might have been had he lived a normal life expectancy. Perhaps the fitting thing we should say now is, “Chadwick Boseman, forever.” 

 

A Dark Side and a Reality Check

Boseman’s life has been celebrated by celebrities and ordinary people for good reason. His death, however, conjured up harsh realities the nation ignores at its peril. He died of colon cancer as a young man. That fact creates a sobering circumstance that requires closer examination.

Blacks suffer from colon cancer at significantly

higher rates than other racial groups. Black men are 24 % more likely to develop colon cancer than whites, with

black women stricken 19% more often than whites. African Americans have a 15-20% higher death rate from colon cancer than whites.

The explanations don’t differ much from the

explanations for other health disparities between the races – diet, obesity, lack of screening, lack of access to health care generally. Significantly, blacks develop the disease at younger ages than whites. Many doctors now suggest blacks get screened for colon cancer at 45, instead of 50, the age now normally recommended for such tests.

Even that might not have changed the outcome for Chadwick Boseman. He was 39 at the time of his diagnosis. A lower initial screening age might not have caught his disease early enough to have started treatment that would have extended his life beyond the 43 years he got. Outliers often exist and he apparently was one. Still, Boseman’s case, and his tragic death, remind the nation generally, and the African American population specifically, of the need for early testing and overall vigilance about a disease that can create such havoc.  

Getting an early colon cancer screening is something we whole heartedly recommend. 

 

 

Losing Friends (Appreciating Relationships)

Henry Writes of Loss

As we age it seems the impact of losing friends hits like a sledgehammer. At least this is the reality

I face. Having lost three friends in the last few weeks led me to emotional lows I have rarely visited.  Incredibly joyous memories of these friends and of their disappearance from this world take me on a roller coaster ride of thought, vision, and faith.

One is a friend from birth with whom I shared experiences growing up, in school and through adult life. His view of the world was very different from mine and served as a check on any attempt by me not to see how the world can differ for the individual. We shared joys and disappointments without judgment. He had the best memory of any of our friends and could remind us all of those moments shared at seven or nine or twelve. He seemed to remember everything about our years as kids. It was natural that when I shared a memory of our childhood he was not surprised because he too remembered the moment.

                     

The second was a neighborhood friend.  We were separated by three houses and although he was a year older, I remember much about our days as kids. He was the self-proclaimed “concrete contractor” who construct-ed small roads between our neighborhood houses on which we rolled toy cars and trucks. We also made bows and arrows with arrows that disappeared into sky before falling back to earth. There were the nightly runs around the block and the daily baseball, football, and basketball games. He managed difficult health problems as an adult and left suddenly.

The third was a colleague on the bench and one of the most fun-filled people I've ever met.  We shared stories of our very different lives and after we both retired kept in touch. He loved Mexican food and we almost always communicated on Cinco de Mayo.  

                 

Each of these friends contributed immeasurably to the quality of life I have been privileged to enjoy and thus the loss is greater.

Although my spiritual universe provides a kind of comfort, my mind searches for more explicit explanation and I move in and out of competing visions. Loss, or being without, describes a condition and feelings so it brings much of our complex existence to the front of our consciousness.  When we are no longer able to relate to the physical incarnation of our friends this feeling of absence, for me, is unavoidable. But loss seems to be much more than this absence. At the zenith of this struggle my faith collides with doubt.

I do believe that these friends remain with me because I carry memories of them in an almost tangible sense. They are with me and those memories give me solace.

I find it difficult not to ask whether friends will carry memories of me.

As I write this and experience an avalanche of emotion filled with grief, I realize it may be time to express thankfulness and celebrate the joys of friendships remaining.  This is especially true because of the opportunities presented by an upcoming reunion of all classes from my high school.  There WE will be able to share our lifelong memories and celebrate those bonds having lasted a lifetime.  Of course, we will all grieve the loss of classmates over the years but the presence of those remaining will help remove the sting of loss.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 reads, “To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:” Perhaps these times are not as separate as we envision.  This, now, may be a time to remember, grieve and celebrate.  We can embrace our losses and celebrate memories and joys of present relationships. I don’t believe we lose the past by celebrating the present.  After all, these moments are precious.