Last week, we got a peek into the chambers of the Beckham family palace as the oldest son, Brooklyn (I love this name, by the way), announced over Instagram that he wanted no contact with his celebrity parents. I intentionally use the word “peek” here because we have no real understanding of the intricacies of what went down on Brooklyn’s wedding day, his relationship with his wife, Nicola, or the amorphous shape of his childhood.
Nevertheless, I unfollowed David, a tiny act of principle from me of not wanting to follow an abusive parent or an enabler, someone (generally the other parent) who enables the abusive behavior of another. Because, as most psychologists explain and as validated by personal experience as someone who has considered estrangement to protect my mental well-being, no child opts for no contact with their parents unless there are no other non-self-sacrificial paths. So, I have enough reason to believe something psychologically unhealthy did go down in those stylish inner chambers.
Celebrity news that manages to penetrate me like this either triggers me or conveys a message I need to hear. This one triggered me because I had been in Nicola’s place (more or less, although I have no claim to wealth as she does). When I was married, my ex-in-laws, especially my ex’s mother, had feared that I would control my ex. At first, she worried that I would convert him into my religion, Islam, a request my parents had made but I had refused on principle. Then, after she met me, she decided that I spoke too much and had no respect for elders.
Either way, she decided not to talk to me or acknowledge my presence in her son’s life for the whole four years I was married. When I casually mentioned this to one of my white male co-workers one day, he looked at me with concern and said, “Sabrina, I’m really sorry you went through that.” I nodded awkwardly and breathed through the tears that threatened to spill out in the corporate corridor. Perhaps he has been exposed to healthier family dynamics because everyone in my circle up until that point had been desensitized to our dysfunctional family systems. We have all seen a mother-in-law competing with her daughter-in-law. The intensity of the competition varied based on how happy and secure the mother-in-law is with her own life and choices.
So, I’m well-versed in being part of an enmeshed family that doesn’t trust or respect the outsider. I used to think this mother-son dynamic was specific to collectivist cultures, where mothers were trapped in unhappy marriages and made pseudo-husbands of their doting sons, but the Beckhams proved me wrong.
But what is different between Brooklyn and my ex is that Brooklyn is taking an unwavering stand and stepping out of the enmeshed web of his family. Maybe his genes, individualistic culture, and value system have come to his and Nicola’s aid. This is why I love the West and won’t ever go back.
