“I don’t know why you girls are so upset”, my father said as my sisters and I gathered around the table with our phones grasped in hands, “it’s not like you knew him”. We had just learned that Chadwick Boseman, our favorite actor since 42 hit the screen way back in 2013, had passed away. My heart raced when I heard the news in a way that it typically would have been had it be a family member. That is, that he died on the same day my grandmother had died two years prior, of the same type of colon cancer. Despite what my father said, it felt personal.
To young black boys and girls, Chadwick was their hero and their king. During a summer where it seemed like every time they turned on the news another innocent person who looked just like them was killed by the police, it meant something to see black people portrayed in a positive light. Chadwick was unapologetically black and made sure his roles reflected his pride. Through his filmography, they showed they can be anything they want to be: a rockstar, a baseball player, a superhero, and a Supreme Court justice.
In Marshall, Chadwick played Thurgood Marshall, the first African American to be elected to the Supreme Court. The first Jewish Women, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, died later this year of pancreatic cancer.
It was Rosh Hashanah, one of the most sacred days in Judaism, where families come together and celebrate the New Year when she died. Suddenly, what was meant to be a joyous occasion became one of mourning and sorrow. In Jewish tradition, it is said only the most righteous die on New Year, as they were needed until the very end – and oh, how we all needed her.
Ruth Bader Ginsburg meant so much to women everywhere, as an unapologetic and unafraid voice that stood up for what’s right, but she especially meant a lot to the Jewish Community. Once again, it felt personal.
Grieving for someone you’ve never met is a weird phenomenon because of course, it doesn’t come anywhere in comparison to how their families and friends feel. However, in a way, that’s how they felt to us. They were more than just celebrities, but representation for those who don’t often see it. We saw ourselves in them and then in ourselves. To lose that representation and glimmer of hope in this dark time is devastating and don’t let anyone tell you it’s not worth crying over.