The late TV star’s memoir of life in Brooklyn, Baltimore, and the depths of addiction.
Williams (1966-2021), who died from a drug overdose, was best known for playing Omar Little, the scar-faced antihero of The Wire, one of the most memorable TV characters of the past few decades. Omar, he writes, was informed by his upbringing in Brooklyn’s projects and his own experience as an addict and gay Black man. Much of this memoir hits all the more poignantly with his death: He repeatedly notes how a recovering addict is only “one choice away” from falling off the wagon. Despite his tough exterior, Williams describes his early life as defined by vulnerability. He was the product of a broken home, often shy, and insecure about his sexuality. New York’s club scene and an early career dancing in music videos gave him an escape hatch and a career path but also introduced him to a yearslong, off-and-on struggle with cocaine and crack addiction. He recalls coming off a three-day bender when he first met Barack Obama, a fan of The Wire, and his fame as Omar was psychically brutalizing: “I meditate on painful things all day long for a scene and when it’s over, it’s little wonder I’m tempted to go off and smoke crack.” The prose is rarely more than workmanlike—co-author Sternfeld says the book was near completion when Williams died—but he projects an engaging humility and candor throughout. Those qualities are especially stark in the final pages, as Williams relates his growing awareness of politics, social justice, and the school-to-prison pipeline that undermines the lives of young Black boys. The author describes himself as having gotten closer to reconciling his art with his activism and conquering his demons, which makes his loss feel especially tragic.
A bittersweet memento of a generational talent gone too soon.