The day before Easter, Angela Hongo brought her son Boaz Flemister’s ashes home. Inscribed on a green teardrop-shaped urn were the words: “We Will Always Love You” and “My Forever Legend” along with the young dancer’s age: “17”.
That’s when it hit Hongo that her youngest son “Bo” was gone.
“It’s like you’re really in this jar, you’re not gonna walk through the door,” said Hongo, 56, who lives in the Pill Hill neighborhood on Chicago’s South Side.
After Flemister’s death in a Bishop Ford Freeway crash earlier this year, Hongo started a foundation in her son’s name to support Chicago dance communities, which have been reeling from a slew of recent deaths.
The Flemister Foundation aims to help urban dance communities specializing in styles such as hip-hop and majorette overcome their grief through mental health counseling and dance competitions in Chicago and beyond.
“Kids in this particular art choice of, not hip-hop, but urbanized music — that group of people have been forgotten,” said Hongo.
Young dancers struggling to balance the responsibilities of school and a social life might turn to dance as an outlet, said Hongo, who aims to provide mental health support to people of all ages through her foundation.
In the past few years, Hongo said she knows of several young people in the South Side dance community who have died tragically.
In 2021, Verndell “Vee” Smith, 32, a beloved dance coach and artistic director at Ultimate Threat Dance, was shot and killed outside a Dunkin’ on King Drive. In January, Troy Hollingsworth, 37, a photographer involved in the dance community, was fatally shot in West Pullman. And in February, Hongo’s son and dancer Flemister, along with fellow dancer, Lazarus Gonzalez, 23, died when the vehicle they were in rolled over on the Bishop Ford.
The foundation would provide mental health resources so that community members don’t rely on drugs or alcohol to cope.
“People don’t know how to deal with the trauma and the grief, they internalize it,” Hongo said, which may prompt them to pick up a bottle or “crash out.”
By providing spaces for group counseling, Hongo hopes that the dance community can “open up” to therapy. Attending the foundation’s upcoming mental health gathering is Flemister’s own counselor that Hongo believes can inspire others to join.
Early on Feb. 19, Hongo said she received a call from Flemister’s dance coach: Her son “Bo” had been involved in a car crash with four other dance community members.
Flemister and Gonzalez were killed in the single-vehicle rollover crash on the Bishop Ford Freeway around 1:15 a.m. Feb. 19, Illinois State Police said. Three others were transported to a local hospital with injuries.
The cause of the crash remains unknown and state police said they could not provide further information.
Hongo rushed to the scene along with others in the dance space who stayed with her until about 4 a.m., she said.
A junior at Art in Motion high school in the South Shore neighborhood, Flemister should have been preparing to dance at Disneyland California with Empiire Dance Company later this month. In light of the two deaths, Empiire decided to pause its Disneyland dance.
They instead plan to perform at Mayhem dance competition, which they are hosting in South Chicago later this month in honor of the two deceased dancers, said Anthony Calahan, Geek Skquad Dance Company president, who works closely with Empiire.
“It’s a double loss,” said Calahan, 40, about the dance duo known as “Bollywood.” Their nicknames were: “Bo” (Flemister) and “Hollywood” (Gonzalez).
“To not see them on the floor … it’s an empty space,” Calahan said. He thinks the foundation’s mental health resources are a “brilliant idea.”
“A lot of these kids, they don’t really understand this … it’s hard,” he said. “But we’re getting through it, and we will get through it.”
For Shamar Moore, a footwork instructor who was close friends with Flemister and Gonzalez, the foundation’s focus on mental health is a blessing for the Black community in particular.
“When something happens in our community, especially if you’re a Black man, you have to be strong. … At the end of the day I’m a man but I’m still human,” said Moore, 23, who lives in West Pullman and is the CEO of Demolition Squad dance company.
Moore said he still keeps some of Flemister’s clothes as a reminder of him. “It’s definitely been hard,” he said.
Known for his sense of style and quiet demure, Flemister started dancing at age 5, first at Valley Kingdom Ministries International, a nondenominational church in Oak Forest, and then moving onto hip-hop at age 8 with Final Phaze and then Empiire Dance Company.
“He had a swiftness and a flow and he was serious with his moves. It’s like he was always practicing in his mind,” said Hongo.
Calahan was a dance instructor for Empiire when he first met Flemister, coaching him on marches and drills for the annual Bud Billiken Parade.
“Whenever he stepped foot on the floor the crowd went up for him,” said Calahan.
Flemister danced every Bud Billiken parade since 2015, his mother said.
“He loved the crowds … and he loved the outfits,” she said.
Yet attending the Billiken parade costs each dancer about $1,000, said Hongo, which can create a financial strain. The foundation aims to help dancers with these expenses and will be initially partnering with dance companies Flemister was connected to, including Empiire, Ultimate Threat and Final Phaze, which have also offered Hongo support after her son’s death, she said.
Another goal for the foundation is to help with the funeral expenses of those in the dance community who may die unexpectedly, like her own son.
Hongo said her son’s funeral that took place last month cost around $25,000, including the venue reservations, funeral home costs, and casket, which total up quickly and are typically paid within days after a loved one dies.
The balloon release alone — a lively, dance-filled goodbye held outside the South Side elementary school Flemister attended — was about $500, Hongo said.
The foundation is in the process of registering as a not-for-profit and aims to raise about $10,000 as an initial goal by August through organization grants and community fundraisers.
Hongo said she created the foundation to “to show the greatness in our youth but also to help the downfall” that she sees in the community.
“They are all trying to understand and comprehend: why them, why now, and how are we going to move forward when we had plans?” Hongo said.
