Thank you, Mister Boseman

It’s been a while and I haven’t written anything about this, because it almost seems redundant. I processed it and am still shaken and saddened, and it didn’t seem like any words I might toss on the pile would mean much. We’re all on the same page here. Chadwick Boseman was nothing less than an inspiration, an icon of the early 21st Century. He deserves remembrance. He deserved better.

Kathryn H. Ross, a fellow writer I am happy to call a friend since we randomly and virtually bumped into each other at a Zoom party in the summer, has put it to words – and since the impact to her and her community was so very acute, I can do no better than to boost her signal here.

Guest Opinion: It Matters | Kathryn H. Ross: The Black Death

Obviously my own personal response to Mister Boseman’s death is less to do with his colour than it is to do with the monster that took him from us. Again and again I am reminded how very lucky I was to survive and bounce back as well as I have. Bowel cancer is one of the “better, more survivable” cancers and if you hear that enough, you sort of forget that it’s still fucking cancer. And it’s appalling.

I can’t begin to imagine the struggle of Stage Four, while continuing to work and smile and be this amazing beacon in the lives of so many people. The strength of this man. My God.

I can say nothing more, except thank you, Mister Boseman. What you gave us, and what you went through to continue giving it right to the end, is … you were an inspiration in life, and you will continue to be an inspiration for as long as your family, friends, and countless admirers live. Rest in power, sir.

Kathryn has written a collection of essays on the black experience and I highly recommend it. I’m still reading and digesting it myself because it’s very challenging, but I will do my best to review it when I’m done.

About Hatboy

I’m not often driven to introspection or reflection, but the question does come up sometimes. The big question. So big, there’s just no containing it within the puny boundaries of a single set of punctuationary bookends. Who are these mysterious and unsung heroes of obscurity and shadow? What is their origin story? Do they have a prequel trilogy? What are their secret identities? What are their public identities, for that matter? What are their powers? Their abilities? Their haunted pasts and troubled futures? Their modus operandi? Where do they live anyway, and when? What do they do for a living? Do they really have these fantastical adventures, or is it a dazzlingly intellectual and overwrought metaphor? Or is it perhaps a smug and post-modern sort of metaphor? Is it a plain stupid metaphor, hedged around with thick wads of plausible deniability, a soap bubble of illusory plot dependent upon readers who don’t dare question it for fear of looking foolish? A flight of fancy, having dozed off in front of the television during an episode of something suitably spaceship-oriented? Do they have a quest, a handler, a mission statement, a department-level development objective in five stages? I am Hatboy.
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5 Responses to Thank you, Mister Boseman

  1. Beer Rot says:

    i didn’t feel like finding an appropriate place to put this.

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