“To be absent from the body…” —2 Corinthians 5:8
Grief Made Visible
Beneath the surface of “T” (2019), Keisha Rae Witherspoon’s acclaimed 13-minute short film reveals a powerful artistic intention: to carve out space for unmuted Black grief—not pathologized, but honored. It doesn’t simply tell a story; it holds up a mirror to a community that mourns loudly, beautifully, and on its terms. Sparked by memory and sustained through ritual, “T” invites viewers into a Miami subculture where loss is not an ending but a call to gather, create, and remember with purpose.
Embedded in Miami’s Spiritual Terrain
Witherspoon exudes a quiet, lingering authority. Born and raised in Miami, she draws deeply from the Magic City’s rhythm, language, and layered spiritual terrain. Her work centers on sacred, often overlooked Black rituals, illuminating the intersections of identity, memory, and communal healing. “T,” which premiered to rapt attention at the Pérez Art Museum Miami (PAMM), continues that mission. For Witherspoon, mourning is neither private nor passive—it’s rebellious, creative, and shared.
The Ritual of the T-Ball
The film centers on Miami’s annual T-ball, an event where community members design custom shirts and outfits to honor loved ones who’ve passed. It’s part tribute, fashion show, and spiritual offering to the Egungun. Like the Mardi Gras Black Indians of New Orleans, participants spend weeks preparing elaborate garments adorned with sequins, feathers, halos, and airbrushed portraits. “It’s not just a shirt,” Witherspoon says. “It’s a story, a life, a legacy stitched into fabric.”
Originating as a grassroots response to neighborhood loss, the T-ball arose from a city shaped by joy and grief. It transforms mourning into performance—second-line loud, proud, and unapologetically public. In a society that routinely denies formal outlets for Black grief, this event turns absence into presence, ritual into resistance.
Visual Lyricism Over Voiceover
Shot across sunlit Miami streets and layered with pulsating, atmospheric sound, “T” captures this cultural practice with lyricism and intimacy. The line between documentary and dreamscape dissolves. There is no narration or exposition. Witherspoon trusts her audience—and her images.
A mother adjusts her son’s shirt, bearing the image of his slain father. Neighbors debate rhinestone placements. A child walks the runway; chin lifted, body weighted with pride and sorrow. These wordless moments offer spaciousness for reflection. “T-ball isn’t about displaying grief,” Witherspoon notes. “It’s about creating space where grief can breathe—effusively, defiantly, and beautifully.”
Refusing Exploitation, Choosing Ceremony
Where mainstream media often exploits Black death, “T” offers a counter-narrative. Witherspoon doesn’t sensationalize grief—she ritualizes it. Her filmmaking reframes loss as sacred, embodied, and alive. “The T-shirt becomes a canvas,” she explains, “not just for mourning, but for reclaiming joy and asserting presence. It’s how we say, ‘We remember—and we refuse to forget.’”
A Filmmaker Immersed in Community
Her process is rooted in deep community immersion—listening before filming, guiding from within, and allowing the subjects to shape the narrative. As co-founder of Third Horizon, a Miami-based Caribbean film collective, Witherspoon has created a platform for visionary Black cinema. She first garnered critical attention with “Papa Machete”, and her genre-fluid, experimental style—iconoclastic like the works of Octavia Butler—has taken her to Berlinale, BlackStar, and Sundance.
“T” is no exception: intimate yet expansive, grounded yet otherworldly. Its resonance stretches well beyond its brief runtime. It insists that ceremony is necessary in a country that often erases or criminalizes Black mourning. In “T,” despair becomes design, music, and movement. Each garment is a shrine. Each strut down the runway is a sacred procession.
The Strength of Witherspoon’s Restraint
Witherspoon’s restraint only sharpens her impact. She avoids moralizing, choosing instead to observe hands, silences, and gestures. In one haunting moment, a man quietly shares that he has lost multiple relatives to violence. His words are sparse, but his face speaks volumes—grief etched into every line.
Memory, City, and Cinematic Legacy
Though “T” has received international accolades, its soul remains rooted in Miami. “Miami is my lens,” Witherspoon says. “It’s where I return for truth. It’s where our stories begin.”
She doesn’t measure success by awards alone. “If someone watches “T” and sees their brother, their cousin, their neighborhood,” she says, “then I’ve done my job.”
A Living Archive of Black Grief and Joy
In an era saturated with images of Black trauma, “T” offers something different—more intimate, more transcendent. It reminds us that grief can be an act of love, a form of protest, and a narrative tradition. “T” becomes more than a film by framing loss through memory, music, and visual legacy. It becomes a living archive—a cinematic altar where the living and the dead convene, wrapped in bejeweled legacies stitched by hand and spirit. In every radiant frame, “T”resists erasure. It declares: We were here. We remember.
