7:11 AM PT — In a recent video, Quavo can be heard asking, “What does she need to do?” while on the phone with what is likely a 911 operator. A passerby who identified herself as a nurse and offered to assist Takeoff.
Quavo and Offset both offered heartfelt messages on Takeoff’s passing over the past three days. The two spoke about what he meant to them and how challenging it has been to move forward since he was shot and killed on November 1 on Instagram to share their feelings.
“This whole time I’ve been trying to figure what you really are to me because nephew wasn’t it…we always knew we were way closer than that and it made me feel old too. But I knew you weren’t my brother cuz you are my sister’s son, so I couldn’t say brother. Now I finally get it…you are OUR angel,” Quavo wrote over the weekend.
Offset tweeted pictures and videos of the trio along with a shorter but no less heartfelt statement a few nights ago.
“The pain you left me with is unbearable. My heart is shattered and I have so many things to say, but I can’t find the words…I know someone with a soul like yours is in heaven now. I hope you can see how much we love you and miss you.”
Offset went solo earlier this year after Quavo and Takeoff left Migos to form a duo. Just before Takeoff passed away, Quavo made an appearance on the Big Facts podcast in October. He claimed the group was going through a family issue unrelated to business or music but insisted they would always be family.
“Family always going to be family. We always family. Ain’t nothing gonna change,” he said.
Being estranged from someone before they pass away is an incredibly difficult thing to handle, so I can only imagine how it has made this loss more painful for him and probably left him with an unavoidable sense of regret. Nevertheless, it’s heartening to see Quavo and Offset make statements that not only reveal a side of Takeoff that the public might not have realized existed but also a side of them that we don’t frequently witness. The presence of anguish, sorrow, and a sense of loss are all indicators of profound grief, and it is crucial that people feel free to express their feelings.
But why wouldn’t they feel comfortable sharing their sorrow? It’s a valid query with a complex response. All sorrow is challenging and complicated. However, sorrow in Black communities is more complex and has its own unique historical background. The point is simply to acknowledge the historical context surrounding it, to draw attention to the disparities in how frequently Black people experience grief, and to the lack of the privilege necessary to truly sit in bereavement. This is not to say that Black grief matters more than other types of grief.
The current understanding of grief, which is defined as “the extreme agony that accompanies the loss of a loved one,” may be overly limited in breadth, according to a study that looked into Black mourning earlier this year. According to the study’s authors, society’s present conception of sorrow does not take into consideration the different ways it manifests in Black people, and how being racially marginalized throughout history has made grieving an especially distinctive feeling of loss and bereavement.
According to the study, many of the deaths Black people encounter are not necessarily the deaths of our friends and close family members. It also makes a distinction between personal sorrow and collective loss. However, individuals like George Floyd, who might have been our sibling, or Sandra Bland and Breonna Taylor, who might have been our sisters.
“Personal loss is a domain where the loss is more of an individual experience, like losing a loved one, whereas collective loss is more of an experience that happens communally,” said Da’Mere Wilson, a doctoral student in psychology.
Think about how George Floyd, who most of us didn’t know personally, felt linked to the world. Imagine the suffering we experience when someone like Takeoff passes away. Takeoff was a beloved and respected celebrity in our community who many of us watched develop and change over time. He might have been our sibling or cousin. Because we can identify with him and see so much of ourselves in him, the loss is deeply felt. Now think about Chadwick Boseman’s passing, a man so admired not just by Black people but also by a global audience. With Black Panther, he gave us one of the greatest Black heroes ever.
I recall that it debuted in 2018. Discussions about what we would wear to see it erupted on black Twitter. It was the first time we witnessed a predominately Black cast in a Marvel film, as well as the first movie in the series about a Black superhero and starring a Black man. It was the first time many of us had heard African names or seen African clothing on a large screen.
It was an occasion to honor Black art. And it disproved the notion that high-budget Black films didn’t provide a good return on investment. It amassed more than a billion dollars in revenue globally, making it the first Marvel film to receive an Oscar nomination for Best Picture. Those costumes, too? Along with a golden trophy, they also received honors for the best production design and original score. It was upsetting to see someone as well-known as Chadwick Boseman succumb to cancer.
I can’t help but wonder if Black Panther: Wakanda Forever is triggering or healing for viewers as loss and grief take center stage, or maybe a little of both. Anyone entering a theater to watch it is aware that while they will undoubtedly watch a movie, they will also indirectly experience and witness loss and sadness. And it can be cathartic after all the devastation we’ve had over the past two years.
It’s critical that Black people are freed from the need to maintain composure and strength in the face of sadness, grief, and other difficult emotions. Whether the loss is one we experience personally or collectively, we should be able to take the time necessary for our souls and selves to sit with the complicated emotions that accompany it. And the conversation must continue.
“We must expand our definition of grief to account for the pain that occurs within the Black community after the loss of a loved one, the loss of land, the loss of a sense of safety, and the loss of members of the community due to direct and indirect acts of racist violence,” the study suggests.
This is why the study also calls for more research to be done to better understand grieving among communities that have gone through comparable things, such as Indigenous peoples who have also experienced great losses in terms of their land, identity, history, culture, language, and customs.
There have been a few studies that only look at Black loss, but the majority concentrate on homicide-related loss, which is what Takeoff’s death is classified as. Statistics show that Black people are more likely to experience a loved one’s murder, but because of the research’s limited reach, there isn’t much information available for the numerous other losses we endure, such as illness or suicide, which also disproportionately affect Black and Indigenous people.
“Those who experience traumatic bereavement typically experience more intense and severe grief and trauma related symptomology when compared to those who experience a natural death of a loved one,” the study suggests, before pointing to increased rates of PTSD in Black people who have been affected by homicide. It’s referred to as “complicated grief”, and a lack of access to psychosocial services can exacerbate the symptoms and experience of it.
Of course, Offset and Quavo won’t have any trouble paying for counseling. However, just because they can afford it doesn’t guarantee they’ll go, especially if they, like so many other colored people, view requiring therapy as a sign of weakness. I sincerely hope that Quavo and Offset find the most profound form of healing possible and receive support from people who recognize and validate the trauma of what they’ve gone through, not just in the past month but throughout their entire lives as Black men in America who have probably experienced a lot of sadness and conflict.
