‘Wakanda Forever’ characters aren’t alone in mourning King T’Challa

Everybody knows that T’Challa, the Black Panther, created by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby in 1966 in Fantastic Four #52, was the first Black superhero to appear in a comic book. But how many people know about the first Black female superhero to appear?

The Butterfly first appeared in Hell-Rider #1 in 1971. A cabaret singer by night, Marian Michaels fought crime using her light-powered costume and jetpack in the deserts of Las Vegas. As T’Challa, the Black Panther, has grown into an iconic status, his pioneering counterpart, the Butterfly, isn’t even mentioned when we talk about the history of African American representation in popular culture.

That’s why “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever,” which is being released Friday as the sequel to 2018’s blockbuster “Black Panther,” is such a historical moment. As much as it will be a love letter to the acting tour-de-force that was Chadwick Boseman, who played T’Challa in the 2018 film and died of cancer two years later, it will also be the long overdue breaking of a glass ceiling by Black women who’ve never been the focus of a classic superhero story. 

There’ll be Princess Shuri (Letitia Wright), the beautiful, talented heir to Wakanda’s throne, coming into her own and the regal Queen Mother Ramonda (Angela Bassett) likely commanding every scene as she grieves T’Challa’s death (like so Black mothers who’ve had to mourn their sons who died at the hands of police or through other violent means). We’ll see the introduction of the supergenius technologist Riri, also known as Ironheart (Dominique Thorne) and witness the return of the powerful, awe-inspiring Dora Milaje warriors, the epitome of strong Black womanhood. This movie should be all we’ve been waiting for, the epitome of sheer, unadulterated #BlackGirlMagic on the big screen and the representation that Black women deserve.

And a big part of me is screaming, “It’s about time!”

However, because Boseman died at 43, it’s clear that “Wakanda Forever” is the story that director Ryan Coogler and Marvel Studios had to tell, not the story they wanted to tell. Had it not been for Boseman’s untimely death, then we would be watching a completely different movie. It’s a shame it took the death of an acting icon for Black women to be pushed into the lead of a major superhero franchise.

For Black women to be thrust into the limelight as replacements, and not because a major movie studio had confidence that the world’s moviegoing audience was eager to see Black superheroines, blunts some of the excitement of this moment.

These characters, and the Black women who play them, deserve better. 

But as we celebrate Shuri and Ironheart and the Dora Milaje and what they mean for Black girls and women, we need to remember what T’Challa meant for Black boys and men who finally saw themselves as heroes when “Black Panther” was released in 2018 and urge Marvel to recast T’Challa as the Black Panther.

Some of Boseman’s fans pushed for Marvel to immediately swear that they would never recast T’Challa in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and remove the character from future movies as a tribute to Boseman's acting prowess. And they were successful, with Marvel Studio head Kevin Feige immediately agreeing not to recast T'Challa for this film.

“It just felt like it was much too soon to recast,” he told Empire magazine. 

At first, I understood. Who else but Boseman could have convincingly played James Brown, Jackie Robinson, Thurgood Marshall and T’Challa in less than 10 years?  And any actor who stepped into T’Challa’s costume now would be compared unfavorably to Boseman. (The underrated acting of Brandon Routh as Superman and Andrew Garfield as Spider-Man are examples of what I mean).

But T’Challa, the Black Panther, is important culturally. Just like multiple actors have played Superman, Batman, Spider-Man, Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Who and even Shaft, another person should play T’Challa. The Black Panther is too important to shelve. I don’t think anyone will ever portray the Joker with the deeply frightening and strangely endearing skill of the late Heath Ledger, but that shouldn’t mean we never see the Joker again. “And we did with Joaquin Phoenix’s turn in “The Joker” movie.

The Black Panther has much more cultural relevance than Batman’s archenemy. For many, T’Challa represented one of the few beautiful images of a Black man on screen with physical, moral and intellectual strength at a time when so much of what we see on our screens is Black pain (e.g., videos of Black men being murdered, often by police).

The Black Panther wasn’t a sidekick or a stereotype. He wasn’t the first person to die at the hand of the monster or a replacement hero. He was the king, T’Challa, the Black Panther. And moviegoers from around the world, especially Black men and boys, cheered his every move.

As a writer of Black Panther prose stories in “Black Panther: Who Is the Black Panther?” and as the creator and editor of the prose anthology “Black Panther: Tales of Wakanda,” I’ve traveled the world in discussing, debating and celebrating the cultural zeitgeist that is Wakanda. But the images that resonate with me most are the young Black boys who are always mesmerized to see a superhero on screen with skin, hair and eyes like theirs.

They could dress up like Batman, Superman or Spider-Man but could never have wavy hair, pale skin or the pale eyes of a Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent or Peter Parker.

I’d hate to see their excitement over looking like a superhero extinguished. I know Boseman would hate it, too. I’m not saying that future Black Panthers shouldn’t be women. Shuri should not be forgotten like the Butterfly was. I am saying that in a world of make-believe, we should be able to create movies set in Wakanda that Black boys and Black girls walk away from feeling indomitable.