Classic Corner: Jam It On The One !

 

"Feel like sharing what his role meant to you?"

This question was asked after I shared my lamentations upon hearing of the death of Malcolm-Jamal Warner. I began the conversation with this acquaintance by briefly stating that the character of Theo had a profound impact on me. At the time of the show’s original airing, I wasn’t fully aware of how The Cosby Show would play such a significant role in my upbringing. It ultimately became a standard-bearer for how I would compare depictions of African Americans in all forms of media.

Moreover, the show became my nostalgic drug of choice. In recent years, the mere mention of The Cosby Show has become problematic, and this isn’t to dismiss or downplay the feelings it may stir due to the actions of its central figure. But on this day, I was focused solely on the only Huxtable son. More precisely, the evolution of his character.

Oftentimes, the Black son trope portrayed someone who shirked responsibility, found himself in legal trouble, or was constantly caught in precarious or buffoonish situations. Especially when compared to his siblings, the eldest male child was rarely depicted as the brightest bulb in the box.

Theo, however, was the antithesis of that archetype. Sure, like all teens, he engaged in hijinks suited for sitcom fodder. But he also went through a maturation process that included nuanced growth and self-discovery. Over time, his character evolved into a responsible uncle, a community advocate, and eventually a college graduate.

I remember one episode in particular when he discovered he had dyslexia, and the relief he experienced when he realized his classroom struggles weren’t from a lack of interest or effort, but from a learning disability. What was admirable and telling about this revelation is that it shed light on how some of the hurdles we face in educational settings are not due to a lack of intellectual aptitude, but rather learning differences. What I took from that moment was how Theo refused to be a victim of his diagnosis. Instead, it became a launchpad to overcome the obstacle.

This write-up may seem a bit pedestrian, but sometimes a bevy of metaphors or sharp quips isn't necessary to express the raw emotion of loss. Simply put, I am saddened, like so many others, by the loss of our brother.

Malcolm was born and raised in Jersey City, New Jersey. And though I never crossed paths with him, he walked these same unforgiving streets and sidewalks and did not become a product of his environment. Instead, through his continued work and service, he became a lifelong symbol of eclectic and abundant manhood—filled with poetry, music, thoughtfulness, sensitivity, and ultimately, legacy.

Rest in power, King. Thank you for redefining Black masculinity in a way that was not merely "safe," but deeply rooted in cultural authenticity. Thank you for all your artistic contributions, both in front of and behind the camera. Thank you for adjusting the mics for so many poets who followed in your footsteps. And thank you for being a big brother to all of us.

I'll make sure to rock a Gordon Gartrell for the both of us.

Jam it on the one!