Wakanda Forever

Wakanda Forever

Chadwick Boseman's death brought a level of grief I never thought I could experience for someone I didn't know. Chadwick’s portrayal of the Black Panther represented the hope, resiliency, and pride we as black people have for our community, for our gifts, for our joy, for our hope.

But then he died. Way too early, leaving a hole in the heart of black people. Wakanda represents so much to black folx and the loss of Chadwick Boseman was the unleashing for me emotions, sadness, anger, and hopelessness, black and brown people have faced and endured since we were sold and snatched from the motherland. His death meant that my nephew’s hero no longer would be on the big screen. That the man who embodied a character of power and realness was taken away by a disease that disproportionately impacts our community every day.

So Wakanda cried. We cried for Chadwick Boseman and cried for Nipsey Hussle. We cried for the loss of Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, Trayvon Martin, Philando Castille, Sandra Bland, and all the other black people taken way too soon, from a system that was never created with our well-being in mind, a system that was never meant to be equal. We grieved the loss of life, not just of Chadwick Boseman, but the life of every back person killed, martyred, and taken away too soon.

Wakanda got angry. We got angry, understanding that while our actions of looting may be wrong, people value the loss of property more than the loss of black life. We got angry seeing celebrities lying and stealing to get their kids into college get short prison sentences, but when a black mother does it to ensure her child can have a great future, she is given harsh punishment. We got angry when we saw people telling us to go back to Africa, but we don't know where in Africa we came from. We got angry seeing our images being taken for cultural appropriation, but when we celebrate black life, we are told we are not American. We are tired. We are angry.

Wakanda mourned. We mourned the ancestors whose dreams we feel like we haven't attained. The burdens we carry as we try to complete the visions they had for us, when they were told they could achieve the American dream. We mourned the fact that COVID-19 has taken our friends, our family, our community at higher rates. We mourned for the loss of black mothers and babies who are dying at disproportionate rates through childbirth. We mourned the thousands of our children, being given higher sentences for petty crimes, and being sent to adult prisons. We are in mourning not just for Chadwick Boseman but for what it means to be black in America.

But Wakanda is resilient. Virbranium is the lifeblood of Black people. Vibranium is the spirit of God, the souls of the ancestors, flowing through our hearts. It is the stepping of the Divine 9, the drums of the HBCU bands. Vibranium is the poetry of Amanda Gorman and the songs of Aretha Franklin. It's the braids, locs, and protective styles tying us together. It's the hymns of our grandparents in how they got over. The cadence of We Shall Overcome.

We as black folx don't know any other way to be, but to be resilient and push forward. Is it unfair? Of course. Why do we always have to wait for change to come, why do we always have to be the bigger person? Why must we carry the weight of the world on our shoulders? Our children taught to automatically put their hands up when pulled over. But this is America, this is what we are forced to do to survive another day.

So Wakanda will take this time, and we will grieve. What was meant to break us, we will use to rise up. Even with the loss of our mainstream superhero, even with the attempts to continue killing our sons, our daughters, our family, even through COVID-19, we will push through. Because all we have is each other, all we have is our faith, our purpose, and that means that Wakanda is Forever.