John Singleton died today. He was, at 23, the director of Boyz N’ The Hood, a seminal 90’s tale of urban Los Angeles, violence, and early death. He was nominated for a Best Director Oscar award in 1994, but did not win.
There are several things I remember about Boyz N’ The Hood. First, I was a high school junior, and I saw the movie during the summer with several of my “boys.” We all liked it a lot.
This was at at time when New Jack City had recently been released in March, and there was a focus on gritty inner city black crime dramas.
On their own, purely as cinema, New Jack City and Boyz N’ The Hood stand out as two of the greatest American films of all time. But the fact that they came out within four months of each other signals either a high water-mark for black cinema or a massive coincidence of color.
The worst part of all, though, is that John Singleton was a filmmaker, a pioneer, a genius, a revolutionary, and a stroke victim at age 51.
And there’s the rub. I’m 44, I’ll be 45 in July, and I can’t fathom dying of a heart attack or stroke in the next few years.
But John Singleton was black. And the facts are, black Americans die at much higher rates, and at much younger ages, than white Americans. 40% of African-American men have hypertension, 56% of African-American women are obese, and whites live nearly four years longer on average.
So we lost another great African-American creative artist and director at 51, way before his time, due to structural racism.
Screw you capitalism.
I hate you.
