**They REFUSED To Attend John Witherspoon’s Funeral—Here’s Why**

When beloved comedian John Witherspoon passed away in 2019, Hollywood’s response was shockingly muted. Despite his legendary status—iconic for roles in *Friday*, *The Boondocks*, and *The Wayans Bros*—many of the industry’s biggest names, including Chris Tucker, refused to attend his funeral. The reasons reveal deep issues in the entertainment world and a history of exploitation and neglect.

John Witherspoon’s career spanned decades, but from the start, he faced rejection rooted not in his talent, but in Hollywood’s discomfort with authentic Black voices. In 1993, the Wayans brothers insisted on casting Witherspoon as their father for their sitcom pilot.

NBC executives balked, calling him “too ghetto,” “too country,” and “too Detroit”—code for “too real.” The Wayans refused to compromise, and NBC dropped the show. The WB picked it up, launching *The Wayans Bros* for five successful seasons and making Witherspoon’s “Pops” a cultural icon.

But this pattern of undervaluing Black talent persisted. When Ice Cube cast Witherspoon in *Friday*, the pay was insultingly low—just $5,000 for a starring role in what became a $300 million franchise. Studios reaped massive profits while the actors who made the magic were paid pennies.

Chris Tucker, for instance, became a $20-million star after *Friday* but refused to return for sequels, citing both money and religious convictions. Witherspoon’s pay rose for later films, but was still a tiny fraction of the revenue generated.

Witherspoon’s authenticity was his greatest asset and the industry’s biggest discomfort. Even in animation, like *The Boondocks*, networks embraced his voice but shied away from his physical presence. The show tackled issues mainstream TV avoided—racism, Black identity, and cultural politics—yet Witherspoon’s compensation as a voice actor remained modest compared to the show’s success.

The final betrayal came as studios dangled promises of one last payday—*Last Friday*—but delayed production for years, waiting for Chris Tucker to return. Warner Brothers, which acquired the franchise, prioritized profits and star power over honoring the original cast.

Witherspoon’s health declined as he waited for Hollywood to recognize his worth. He passed away from a heart attack, having achieved financial stability for his family but never receiving the industry recognition he deserved.

At his funeral, heartfelt tributes poured in from friends and fans, but the institutional response was telling. No major networks aired special programming. Streaming services and award shows offered no dedicated tributes. The industry that had profited from his work for decades chose silence over celebration.

The refusal of stars like Chris Tucker to attend Witherspoon’s funeral was not just a personal decision—it symbolized the fractured relationships and unresolved grievances left by years of exploitation. The studios’ prioritization of profit over people, and their discomfort with authentic Black voices, meant that Witherspoon’s legacy was celebrated more by fans than by the industry itself.

John Witherspoon’s story exposes everything wrong with Hollywood’s treatment of Black performers: the rejection of authenticity, the exploitation of talent, and the refusal to properly honor those who shaped culture. His life and career remain a testament to resilience—and a reminder of how much the industry still needs to change.