When the results of my spinal tumor biopsy results came back as benign, I sobbed out of relief. It was a grade II tumor, and the fact that it wasn’t malignant meant it wasn’t cancerous. Still, while not quite cancer, my life took a harsh, crippling turn, and I’ve been using a cane to help me regain my mobility.
But instead of just being a mobility aid, it’s an unwanted attention grabber. When you become visibly ill, society tends to treat you like an eyesore, a charity case or a stereotype. The 2025 Met Gala theme Black dandyism celebrates resistance to social conformity and expectations. Historically, the Black dandy referred to 18th-20th century men who defied stereotypical race and class barriers through elegant personal fashion.
“Whether conforming to tradition, subverting expectations or creating something entirely new, this theme is a celebration of the freedom to dress – and be – on your own terms.” – Jo Adetunji
However, the essence of dandyism has never been limited to men. The theme continues to make statements and blur lines across gender identity, sexuality, and disability.
With the Met Gala trending, many remembered the late Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman – a MET carpet legend in his own right, and the face behind many on screen Black dandies like Jackie Robinson, James Brown, Thurgood Marshall, and of course, the MCU’S King T’Challa. He rightfully cemented himself as a hero to Black people worldwide: a symbol of our pride, a champion of our history, and a reminder of our power.
His unexpected passing from colorectal cancer in 2020 brought the world to a chilling standstill. Questions went flying, and speculation took root in the stillness:
“How could someone so powerful have lived with such a debilitating illness without anyone knowing?”
“How was he fighting such a scary battle while embodying so much strength?”
“And why didn’t he tell us?”
The first day I walked outside with a mobility aid, I could give a theory as to why. The staring alone made me want to lock myself away forever.
A built-in shame, rage and grief seemed to come packaged with illness or disability. Being socially undesirable – or at least being treated as such – takes such an immense toll on oneself, that being silent about health can feel like the safest option for many. Whether in response to self preservation or ableist shame, we make ourselves smaller, quieter and as invisible as possible. I can only imagine the kind of strength Boseman conjured in his final years – not just as someone fighting disabling illness, but as a Black man who was also learning how to exist in the contradictions in the public imagination’s eye.
After graduating from Howard University’s Department of Fine Arts, Chadwick Boseman continued to hone the art of performance: using it to tell stories, change minds and touch hearts. The spirit that fueled his protests as a student bled over into his acting career.
Chadwick Boseman (Howard University, ‘00) pictured in The Hilltop (Howard student newspaper) protests the decision to consolidate College of Fine Arts
In the roles he played, he proved that it is possible to perform roles that align with our truest selves. But in the performance of his life, he proved that the pursuit of integrity, fulfillment and purpose is worthwhile.
“Purpose crosses disciplines. Purpose is an essential element of you. It is the reason you are on the planet at this particular time in history. Your very existence is wrapped up in the things you are here to fulfill.” – Chadwick Boseman, Howard University’s 150th commencement speech (2018)
The valor and vulnerability of Boseman’s transition symbolized a final parting gift – a reminder to honor our contradictions, and calling until your very last breath.
A few months after his passing, in my sophomore year at Howard University, I enrolled in the newly re-established College of Fine Arts as a playwriting minor. In answering Boseman’s symbolic call, I made one of the best decisions of my life. Like him, I traversed those hallways finding my voice, discovering its power and daring to use it. In the college that he fought to save, I learned that the theater is but a microcosm of society.
Now, as a graduate of the college now named in his honor, I feel responsible to curate performances that uplift and celebrate the underrepresented communities around me. As I work to regain my mobility, I still struggle with self consciousness about my walk – the unorthodox rhythm of my steps, the uneven drop of my hips, the stiffness of my movements. But lately, I’ve realized just how much energy I waste on trying to look “normal,” when that doesn’t even exist.
It never has.
Trevonae Williams, Howard University ‘23
And even if some may insist that it is – I really don’t even want to be that. The good thing about forgetting how to walk is that I can learn how to do it from scratch. Like the Black dandy, I might take a whole new walk: take a chunk from here, a little piece from over there, then make it completely my own. I may choose to emulate the power of Gladys Bentley, the prowess of Pat Parker, or the persistence of Boseman himself.
Like Black dandies throughout history, I’m curating my life as an expression of pride in my complexity, intersectionality and freedom. To take up space where others would prefer I shrink. To be loud, joyous and unapologetic in my Blackness, womanness, queerness, and crippleness: with my boundaries, and on my terms.
