BLACK PANTHER: The Compassionate King and Humble Hero
It’s hard to process death on Twitter.
Undoubtedly, there’s some strong catharsis and community whenever people can mourn and sing the praises of a fallen king together on the internet - especially in a time like this, when we can’t even get together and hug. And yet, I’ve been trying to grieve the loss of Chadwick Boseman for the last 48 hours, and I still don’t feel like social media has given me the space to let it out. Tweeting is one way to vent - even positively vent - but I always end up feeling guilty that there’s still part of my subconscious brain curious to see what the number of likes and retweets will be. That part of me needs to die.
I wasn’t initially going to write anything lengthy about this tragedy - not when there are so many people of color who undoubtedly feel the pain for more than I ever could, and who could write things more eloquent and insightful than I could ever write. My heart is so heavy for every young person of color who has lost a hero and a role-model this weekend; their grief is far greater than mine.
Somehow, though, I don’t think I’m going to be able to write anything else until I get all the melancholy onto the page. At the end of this article - or review, or journal entry, or whatever it is - there will be links to a variety of essays and videos by people of color, who will able to delve far deeper into the greatness of Chadwick Boseman and Black Panther than I ever could.
It’s always particularly strange to lose someone known primarily for their performances on a movie screen, because your external relationship with that person rarely changes in any observable way. When you lose someone you’ve really known and loved in real life, their physical presence disappears instantaneously, undeniably changing your day-to-day experience for all the years to come. When you lose someone you’ve only ever watched through movie screens, their presence in the only way you’ve ever “known them” continues to exist in the same way it always has. I can still watch Black Panther and Infinity War and see Chadwick Boseman living and breathing just like he’s always been. It’s hard to comprehend that things have changed outside the frame. That’s probably why, up until now, I’ve never been particularly crippled by the deaths of celebrities I didn’t know personally.
Somehow, though, this one feels different. The harsh juxtaposition between the triumph of Chadwick Boseman’s onscreen roles and the tragedy of his death at 43 makes it all feel more unreal and melancholic.
And man, there’s so much triumph.
If there’s a blockbuster more celebratory and joyful than Black Panther, I’ve certainly never seen it. I remember seeing the movie 3 times in the first 3 days, and on all 3 occasions, there were endless lines of kids and adults at the theater dressed in expressive African clothes and panther costumes, excited to be there. But the cultural enthusiasm wasn’t just felt within the audience - it was felt within every fiber and frame of the movie itself, too. When Black Panther was nearing its Academy Award campaign, I had the privilege of interviewing Ruth E. Carter - the designer who went on to receive the Oscar win for Best Costume Design on the film. At the time, I’d never talked to anyone else in the “Hollywood machine” who was so energetic and joyful about their job - and particularly with this project, it was clear that the opportunity to design these afrofuturistic costumes was like turning her every fantasy into reality. This enthusiasm and dedication was so clearly present in every other aspect of production, from Ludwig Goransson’s unmatched musical score (holy cow, it’s so good) to Ryan Coogler’s rousing and relevant screenplay.
Man, that screenplay is astounding. It’s no wonder that it feels so personal, given Coogler’s background in Oakland and passion for stories about police brutality and black heroism. Just rewatching the film on TV last night, I was struck by how prophetic everything in the narrative feels in relation to what’s going on right now, both politically and culturally. The way the script wrestles with how we make sense of the sins of our fathers, even when they brought us to where we are today? The duality of using Wakanda as a way to celebrate African culture and as a broader allegory to critique white American culture? It’s brilliant. And somehow, the images in the third act of a nation on the brink of civil war, torn between isolationist nationalism and all-out imperialism, feel more timely than ever before.
It’s always been strange to me that some people seemed to assess Black Panther as “just another Marvel movie” when there was so much thoughtful and subversive soul baked into almost every frame, both behind the camera and in front of it. The most notable of these elements - especially now - is the essential kindness and sensitivity of Chadwick Boseman as T’Challa himself.
Make no mistake, T’Challa in Black Panther is a total badass - and more than that, he’s a strong leader and fighter with the skills to defend a nation. Man, sometimes I forget how dope many of these action scenes are, especially the ones where Boseman gets the chance to showcase his physicality and presence in the spectacle. But balancing the action and explosions, Chadwick Boseman’s T’Challa is also empathetic and compassionate and thoughtful in a way I’ve never seen from any other superhero onscreen to this day.
When I rewatch Black Panther now, it’s not the action sequences that feel most captivating; instead, it’s the sequences where T’Challa authentically wrestles with his conscience and what it means to be a wise king. The way he really grieves the tragedy of Killmonger’s past, the expressive sorrow and guilt he feels upon finding out what his father has done, the rage he displays at the injustice of a child left behind with no home; it’s rare that we see these emotions displayed from an action hero, and Boseman portrays it all with so much tenderness and penitence. On the brink of death, he shouts “all of you were wrong!” with his every fiber of his being. He sheds real tears, like a real man. And for all the talk of Killmonger not being the real “villain” of the story, T’Challa would probably agree. This is one of the very few Marvel movies where the antagonist’s sympathetic philosophy genuinely changes the hero, not just by causing opposition, but by awakening them to the truth. Okoye says to Erik, “your heart is so full of hate that you’re not fit to be king” - and she’s right. But T’Challa, in all his grace and humility and earnest openness, manages to sympathize with everything Erik was truly fighting for and work to make change by the end of the film. And it’s not just that Wakanda opens their borders and shares their resources with the world; these things are external. The true change in the film comes from T’Challa opening his own heart to listen to his enemies and gain new perspective as a leader. And what a leader Chadwick Boseman portrayed.
In a time right now where it feels like we’re all cynical and distrustful of our political figureheads - for good reason - King T’Challa embodies the most desperate hunger of our hearts for someone who is truly Good and Humble and Righteous in equal measure. It’s clear now that these virtues weren’t just a performance.
On the day I found out about his passing, my mind couldn’t stop cycling through all the images of Black Panther in every Marvel movie that suddenly took on new meaning. Hearing Shuri say “wake up, T’Challa” suddenly brings tears to my eyes. Seeing Chadwick Boseman standing among the wreckage and loudly proclaiming, “as you can see, I am not dead!” feels triumphant and crushing at the same time. Even the chants of “T’Challa! T’Challa!” that cover the closing credits feel like a eulogy and a celebration of an incredible man.
Of course, the most potent image for me now is the one of Black Panther walking through that portal in Avengers: Endgame, drenched in golden light and triumphantly returning from the grave to fight another day. Since the beginning, the portals scene in Endgame already felt like imagery of the second coming in Revelation. The raw satisfaction of that moment - and the audience’s overwhelming and ecstatic response in the theater - struck me on opening night as representative of our deepest desires and yearnings; the joy of being reunited with the ones we love, and the hope of seeing dry bones rise from dust.
If you’re a person of faith like Chadwick Boseman was - and like I am - the spiritual catharsis and subtext of that moment has now increased tenfold. It’s not that this character, or even this actor, is a god to worship and idolize and fetishize. It’s not that you have to believe in God to see the beauty in this moment. It’s not that a fictional movie has somehow made his death less tragic. Instead, it’s that movies can point us to the deeper yearnings baked into our souls: we all want him back. We all want everyone back. We all know human life is not supposed to end so soon. We all desire to see justice and goodness and heroism prevail. And once more, we all just want to be able to proclaim: “the Black Panther lives.”
Rest in Power, Chad.
Articles and videos to read/watch (written by much smarter people) about Black Panther, Chadwick Boseman, and their impact on the African American community and the world at large:
“Nakia Was Right: Black Panther and the Difference Between Rage and Revolution” by Brandon O’Brien
“How ‘Black Panther’ Dissects Tension Between Africans & African-Americans” by Jessica Bennett
“The Most Important Moment in ‘Black Panther’ That No One is Talking About” by Benjamin Dixon
“What ‘Black Panther’ Means for Christians” by Esau Mccaulley
“‘Black Panther’, black women, and the politics of black hair” by Mary-Jean Nleya
“I Took 7th Graders to See ‘Black Panther.’ Here’s What They Said.” by Kevin Noble Maillard
“Beyond 'Black Panther': A brief history of Afrofuturism” by Siddhant Adlakha
“‘Black Panther’ and the Invention of ‘Africa’” by Jelani Cobb
“The Defiant Career of Chadwick Boseman, a Hollywood King” by Robert Daniels