Last week I outlined the claim to fame of a young world -class football player, Justin Fashanu (1961-1997). He lived his short life in the glare of public inspection. Commented upon, praised, criticised, applauded and denigrated. All part and parcel of being ‘owned’ by the public who not only contributed to the stardom and monetary value of Justin, but also demanded recompense, dues from such recognition. Stardom, success, has a price.
In Justin’s case the price was loss of privacy, apparent lack of anyone close enough that he recognised loved him enough, that he could confide in, trust, be himself with. He was lonely judging from the scant personal, intimate information gleaned about him from the public record. In spite of the unrelenting public gaze, we never knew Justin. He tried so hard to share himself, tell those around him who he was, who he was trying to be, how he wanted to live his life, but that was not recognised. That was not what was acceptable. Justin was not conforming to his allocated position. He broke the rules. He paid the price.
Justin started his life discarded by his mother and absent father. He finished his life, alone, by hanging himself in a disused garage in a run down area- at that time, in London (UK). During his life he struggled to not only identify the various dimensions of himself that together make us the special, unique, complicated, wonderful individuals we all are, but he wanted to express those, live those elements. Own them. We know we change continuously as we journey through life, buffeted by circumstances, people we meet, events that involve us, times we live in. He wished to be open to that. Not constricted. Not confined. That takes huge amounts of courage when you are in a gold fish bowl and all your movements are viewed by the onlooker, whether you wish it, invite it, or not.
Justin in my opinion found the parts of his life that made up his identity and it was the struggle to express some of those in his life, alone with no support that eventually killed him. It was too much for him. The dues demanded by his public success defeated him ultimately. What can we learn from Justin?
He was a beautiful man, physically, and a great footballer. He created his own startling success based on sheer talent. He was a loving man, initially caring and looking out for his younger brother when all they had at that time was each other. Justin tried to connect with others in his more personal life. Searching for those who would recognise the parts of his life he was trying to express and act upon in a time when that was more risky, fraught with difficulty and likely if known by others, to being very damaging to ones career and indeed life itself.
Being open to others is critical. Being aware of one’s own context, our own prejudices, our own ways of thinking of what is right, wrong, normal, abnormal, and how we came to think that way. What helped us to see things in given ways? Our own backgrounds are critical. How we were brought up, where and at what times all influence us, shape us, and there are times when we need to not only identify those influences but change the impacts of them, in order to reach out to others and allow others to reach out to ourselves.
Connecting with others is a wonderful gift. Some of us have a talent for this that appears to come so effortlessly. It is priceless and I love being in the company of such individuals. They put me at ease. I feel comfortable in their presence. I can speak freely, uninhibited. Nothing is ‘off the table’. Some of us need to learn how ever how to reach out, unlearn some of the parts of us that impair connection with others. This takes courage too. Step by step.
Justin needed that connection from someone else. It never came. He was surrounded by others- and nobody connected with him. His life has taught me the importance of reaching out and allowing myself to be reached by others.