by Charles Kirkland Jr.
In the most shocking news of quite some time, it was announced that Malcolm-Jamal Warner passed away at age 54 from a drowning accident.
Warner was born on August 18, 1970, in Jersey City, New Jersey. Named after radical political activist Malcolm X and acclaimed jazz pianist Ahmad Jamal, Warner was given big shoes to fill. He ended up leaving his legacy on the world of acting. In a career that started at the age of nine, he has starred in various sitcoms like Malcolm & Eddie and Reed Between the Lines, and took on dramatic turns in The Resident, Sons of Anarchy, and 911.
Off camera, he directed not just sitcoms, but music videos and documentaries, pushing past his comfort zone into new creative territories. He further expanded his storytelling abilities into the world of music as the frontman of Miles Long, a jazz-funk band, and as a spoken-word poet whose words found a Grammy Award and new audiences yearning for authenticity.
Warner’s older audiences will most remember him for his characterization of Theodore Huxtable, a young Black boy growing up on The Cosby Show, one of TV’s most celebrated sitcoms. Theo was not just a character; he was a cultural moment. As he grew up in front of millions across the globe, I grew up with him. Every step he took, being the only male child in a house full of women, I took with him. Every lesson he learned (and eventually taught) spoke to my existence in a world that reflected mine more than any other I had witnessed. I found it hard to relate to the world of Boyz In The Hood and other hip-hop-driven movies and television shows. It wasn’t my reality. The Cosby Show was.Â
Even though the role was loosely fashioned after Bill Cosby’s only son Ennis (who was brutally murdered almost thirty years ago), I could have sworn that Cosby was looking at my life and bringing my story to the television screen. For that reason, Theo Huxtable and the man who played him were the brothers I never had. When The Cosby Show faded into the ether. I followed every movement of Warner. I watched his shows. I read some of his poems. I grew prouder of him as he overcame the controversies that embroiled his TV dad, kept his head down, and kept moving forward. He was my family, and his success was mine too.
Even though his work shall live long past him and I will be able to rewatch and re-experience every move that he made, his passing is my passing. A part of me has gone on with him. We lose people in this business every week, it seems, but this one hurts.
Rest in peace, brother Malcolm. Rest in peace.
