Mourning the death of a complicated celebrity like Liam Payne
Every time I’m asked to share a fun fact about myself, I proudly proclaim that I can name any One Direction song within the first three seconds. People assume this is a talent I practiced to perfection, driven by a misplaced desire for online virality. In all honesty, it’s just the result of growing up with the British-Irish boyband that took my entire generation by storm.
I was the kind of (insufferable) girl that classmates would turn to if our teacher said the word “direction” mid-lecture, the kind who would forcefully convert her friends into fans then fight with them for choosing her favorite member. I had every album in every version, every piece of merchandise. Entering Stan Twitter because of them exposed me to political issues, gave me my very broken sense of humor, and connected me to friends around the world—some of whom I still hang out with today. I truly would not be who I am if I hadn’t.
When you center your life around someone with such intensity and at such a young age, they feel untouchable and immortal to you. It’s precisely why I can’t wrap my head around the news that Liam Payne is dead. Citing authorities, several media outlets reported this morning, Oct. 17 that the former One Direction member fell to his death from the third floor of a Buenos Aires hotel. He was 31.
Liam was a rather troubled character, hence the strange mix of emotions that accompany my grief. Growing up, his strong and clear voice not only started most of the band’s songs but also spoke for the group, bearing the fan-made moniker Daddy Direction with pride. He was level-headed and confident, as he took the microphone on behalf of 1D during media appearances and playfully disciplined his naughty bandmates and teenage fanbase. It was painful to see him in the aftermath of One Direction’s “indefinite hiatus” as he struggled to move past their collective legacy. While all his other bandmates launched successful solo careers, Liam was stuck searching for his own sound.
Through the years, Liam’s carefully crafted public persona would crumble under the weight of all his wrongdoings. Victims have bravely come forward to reveal his history of physical, emotional, and financial abuse, further bolstered by the influence of drugs and alcohol. Last year, his ex-fiancee Maya Henry released Looking Forward, a semi-autobiographical book heavily inspired by her time with Liam, where she recounts being chased around their house with an axe and forced to have an abortion at home to avoid press scrutiny.
Yet in spite of the harm he caused, and the deafening silence on his end that basically confirmed the allegations, I can’t help but be heartbroken over the news. A friend’s message from earlier today reads: “Am I even allowed to cry?” and it’s true. Just a few days ago, I was publicly (and rightfully) criticizing Liam’s behavior on X, so why exactly are there tears streaming down my face? How am I expected to reconcile the fact that someone who undeniably shaped who I am has morphed into a dangerous man and suffered an untimely and gruesome death?
It can be argued that a celebrity’s passing shouldn’t warrant such strong emotions, when they only ever existed as a concept. But One Direction rose to fame during a turning point in culture, with the advent of social media reinforcing the strength of parasocial relationships. “With the help of social media nowadays, the constant interaction between figures and their fans and the connection that they build is strengthened exponentially,” psychologist Lordy Santos a.k.a. Tito Mong Psychologist told PhilSTAR L!fe. True enough, the more we tuned in to their late-night broadcasts or voted incessantly to help them secure awards, the more the boys paid us back with unfettered access to their lives.
These feelings are further complicated by the jarring realization that our idol was never who he presented himself to be. When stars act in a way that violates the standards we hold them to, it can shake our version of reality and even our sense of self. “One’s personal values, ideals, or aspirations may be reexamined so they can evaluate the nature of their relationship with these said celebrities,” Santos said.
I think this is why deep inside of me, I was expecting that Liam would redeem himself somehow. The comeback arc wouldn’t exactly be welcomed with open arms, but then again, Hollywood has been known to forgive its fair share of problematic personalities. Maybe after facing the consequences of everything he’s done and seeking out the psychological support he so desperately needed, he would finally find peace for himself. I once imagined him away from the limelight, raising his son, and returning to music to reflect on the turbulent trajectory he has taken.
Right now, Santos suggested that former and current fans “acknowledge their grief as real.” He said, “We can assist them by allowing them to mourn in their own way and letting them reflect about the nature of their relationship or the impact that this celebrity has brought to their lives.” Perhaps, this is a chance to reconnect with those also navigating this exact dilemma. This morning, I found myself reaching out to people I haven’t caught up with in a decade. Their current realities couldn’t be further away from mine and yet, we realized that no other words need be said. We mutually understood that what we shared alongside One Direction is something we’ve carried our entire lives.
Regardless of the black-and-white rhetoric that often seeps into online platforms, real-life situations can accommodate several emotions at once. We can feel sorry that Liam died a visibly broken man, while taking into account that he was a deeply flawed human being who inflicted real harm on others. We can admit that the entertainment industry fails to prepare child stars for monumental fame and instead capitalizes on their fall from grace, rather than place blame on the women who deserve justice. We can mourn what Liam meant to us and the people he left behind, while acknowledging that we might have never known who he really was.