on liam payne
the intersection of life, death, and middle school fandom
i never thought i’d ever think about one direction this deeply in my twenties, but things changed on october 17 when i awoke to the news of liam payne’s passing.
he was only 31.
i was a harry girl; in fact, liam had always been my least favorite of the five boys—but there was something so soothing about the way he sang little things that i’ve embraced him in my pre-pubescent middle school arms ever since.
the king, the thrill(er), the beginning
we were in los angeles on the day michael jackson died. i was 8, knowing nothing about the man besides his fame, when the news broke on the tv. in our kitchen, ma’s face turned pale, matching the whites in her eyes; mj wasn’t her favorite, but he was a huge part of her childhood.
without knowing much about death or even celebrity at the time (zac efron’s troy bolton was eye-catching but very much alive) i decided to follow ma on her drive to mj’s bel air residence, because coming along felt like an important part of history… plus, it was nice to feel included, to feel like an adult before you become one.
ma and i were among the many people that laid flowers at his home. it was a surreal memory: the house’s white colonial exterior against his backyard’s green plains. people came and wept; i didn’t—i felt a sense of doom while my little hand was laced in ma’s, accompanied with an important lesson that even great people will one day succumb to death.
the “directioner” direction
my morbid fascination with mj’s death led to a pop music rabbit hole—facilitated by mj’s infamous thriller, a fuschia iPod, and, when i was a little older, glee soundtracks, which helped me find and appreciate icons from other eras: elvis, prince, madonna, queen.
then, one direction’s what makes you beautiful leapt into the world’s pop consciousness. though i loathed the song (still do), i took interest the band when they released take me home (2012), just before i rode the wave of pre-puberty, boy-craziness, and the internet.
in the mid 2010s, fandom gave teenagers like me a community on tumblr and twitter. it was my first encounter with social media, and i was lucky to do so when everybody was actively figuring it out: a time when tiktok was vine, challenges involved cinnamon & marshmallows, and troye sivan was only making youtube videos.
the internet became a place where i could experiment with different voices, views, and aesthetics. that time of my life—filled with blog-of-the-month challenges and starbucks frappuccinos and studded forever 21 denim—taught me how to 1) effectively run & market an internet product, 2) upkeep an anonymous online persona, 3) respectfully navigate conflict and hate, 4) carry conversation with strangers, and 5) practice unconditional kindness.
* i am not endorsing teenage social media use. the internet is a different beast today; the safety net i personally had as a teen in the 2010s was already an anomaly, even back then, so it likely won’t apply in today’s social media landscape.
it was a crucial time of my youth; one that i look back on often, and honestly one that didn’t seem too long ago. i’ve made peace with the fact that enough time has passed for the celebrities i’d fallen in love with back then to become nostalgia figures that gen-alpha can barely recognize. but for one of them to die so soon, albeit suddenly, was a big punch in the gut.
why are we talking about liam payne months after his passing?
time seems to pass quicker as i get older. i write this during my lunch break on a wednesday and suddenly that day was last week. last issue i complained about jakarta’s hot and humid and polluted summer; suddenly it’s monsoon season and the thunderclouds can’t catch a break.
a few wednesdays ago liam payne was taking photos with his argentine fans. the next day his drug-infested body lie cold on a hotel balcony.
TMZ’s photos of that day still haunt me: plastic draped over liam’s tattooed corpse, glass shards and white powder peppered across his hotel room floor. how could tabloid journalism publicize somebody’s last breaths of life? how could someone who infused so much joy in my youth (and many others’) be so sad?
perhaps most importantly—how dare i make this about me, when at the end of the day liam and i are inherently strangers?
december always brings a layer doom and gloom to the new year: the feeling of growing older, of needing to make wiser choices, of holding onto resolutions that i’ve been too lazy or afraid to start. i am yet to roll out my yoga mat for a 10-minute pilates routine in the mornings, even though last year (and the year before that) i said, “it is something i’m going to start in the new year.”
liam’s tragic passing on october 17th became a time marker in my life—a reminder that i am now closer to 30 than 13, that very soon my frontal lobe will be fully developed and i’ll be too old to ever be leo dicaprio’s girlfriend. it’s a reminder of how change is inevitable, how quickly change happens, and how life can easily go south if we neglect our mental health.
the takeaway of the year
whether it means making the most out of life or taking it day by day, i hope this issue serves as a reminder to make time for your loved ones in 2025, and to hug your people often.
happy new year from mine to yours 🎊 may God’s peace be with the payne family as they navigate the crazy press storm that no human being should ever have to go through in their grief.
thank you for stopping by in 2024—look forward to more ☕️ tea spilling ☕️ in 2025,
<3 tasha
thank you for the story and for bravely sharing your tumblr posts with us
I still believe you can be Leonardo DiCaprio’s girlfriend