I can feel the void left by celebrities of Sidney Poitier’s generation.
There was such community within the beauty of black culture back then — especially in the South. Despite the darkness and the battle for equality, so many people managed to present lives deeply rooted in dignity and forgiveness before the world.
That display of character seems to be largely lost to this generation. There are no big mamas in our neighborhoods today or healthy, nosey neighbors on our corners. People no longer watch children playing outside like they are their own.
There is no more getting in trouble in the neighborhood and the news making it back home before you get there.
People are more likely to ignore you today than greet you with a “good morning or good evening” when passing.
I wish the goodness and purity of those times still existed in our hearts today. I wish the dignity of the era that caused us to care was our normal. I wish we still honored our appearance, respected our elders and one-another; and united in defense of one-another.
I would give anything to see this restored in its purity – for everyone.
You, Mr. Poitier, remind me of those times. And oh what it would have been like to experience the caliber of acting – the poignancy of it – that you brought to the stage in your time.
You were a giant among giants in the industry and among people. You faced the greatest moments of your life while living through one of the most tumultuous time in history.
My Father Loved Your Contribution
Today, many people are reflecting on your pioneering achievements in television and film. Hearts are grieving your loss, as you have closed out not only an era in history — but one that has crossed many generations. (Read the tribute, “Thank You Queen Cicely Tyson”)
You were championed by my parents. They heralded your achievements and testified to your triumph and impact.
You were championed by me as well.
I sat with my daddy, who was born in 1940, on Friday nights watching your old films like A Raisin in the Sun, Buck & the Preacher, In The Heat of the Night or They Call Me Mr. Tibbs. Back then, we would rent movies (including the old ones) from local VHS stores.
I appreciated hanging out with my daddy back then.
He would get in this storytelling mood and talk about life in the South for black folks while placing the tape in the VHS player. I had to keep him focused or he would get lost in his stories and we would miss the movie.
He would talk about Lena Horne, Billie Dee Williams, Cicely Tyson, and of course you.. and countless others. Then, he would get started with the Blaxploitation movies and take pleasure in contrasting the two eras, noting the transitions.
It was a beautiful thing to watch the joy and see the pride in his eyes. It was also a wonderful place to learn.
I would capture small glimpses of his life as he stepped back in time with that gold tooth shining from his big ol’ gap-toothed smile, healing levels of brokenness in our relationship.
To hear of your passing Mr. Poitier brought so many memories forward.
Your death has hurt as deeply as it did with the news of Tyson and Nelson Mandela… as if I’d known them. Now these giants stand beholden in our hearts on the edge of our memories, stories like the one I shared about my daddy.
I found myself thinking today that the world has almost lost and entire generation from your time. (Check out the article, Learning from Mr. Boseman’s Life)
More Than A Legendary Actor
You see, you were not just an actor, but an icon and symbol of hope for who we would become.
You burst through doors and tore down walls without losing your cultural identity.
You supported civil rights and gave voice to the movement.
You represented inclusion, change and hope for achievement among black men. You new what is was like to move past being good enough to being extraordinary.
And you used your influence to impact our rapidly-changing world not only financially, but through participation. It could not have been easy representing the hope of a people to be and do more than they were.
Your achievement became the change and contrast resting over a nation straining to see equality have its way.
Your Presence Was Powerful
The same presence you brought to the stage, you seemed to bring to real life. Listening to your televisions interviews, snippets from documentaries in your later years, we could hear and see the fire of history in your voice and eyes. (Check out this clip from the controversial film, “The Defiant Ones,” 1958)
Will we ever experience the kind of self-respect, honor, concern and dignity many from your generation (regardless of their difficulty) embodied despite the battles? Will we ever apprehend the importance of legacy? Will we ever apprehend privacy over ego and pride? Will we recognize the price so many paid for our right now? Will we learn to fight with what is in our hands like you did?
I honestly do not know the answer to those questions beyond my own. But, I have hope.
But for those who understand this conversation from a far, let us choose to be the best example of humanity we can — in private first. Then before our families and loved ones. And finally, may it shine before others.
In a quote you once said, “I’ve learned that I must find positive outlets for anger or it will destroy me. There is a certain anger: it reaches such intensity that to express it fully would require homicidal rage–self destructive, destroy the world rage -and its flame burns because the world is so unjust. I have to try to find a way to channel that anger to the positive, and the highest positive is forgiveness.”
May we learn to turn the pain and rage of injustice into hope for a better world.
May we all learn to cultivate those flames in use into places of forgiveness.
May we remember what matters.
And may we always remember you, and those who have gone before us Mr. Portier.
Thank you SIR, with love!
