The year was 2010, and the seventh season of The X Factor was underway. Millions tuned in, including a young me, as five aspiring singers – Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik, and Liam Payne – were given a second chance at stardom. Initially destined for solo careers, they were, much to Harry’s dismay and Niall’s delight, thrown together as a group by judge Nicole Scherzinger. Thus, One Direction was born.
Their journey began with awkward Natalia Imbruglia covers and shaky dance moves, but their charm was undeniable. They finished third in the competition, a seemingly insignificant result that would launch them into becoming the show’s most successful product ever. As a pre-teen, I, like many others, initially resisted their appeal. Their debut single, “What Makes You Beautiful,” was too catchy for my liking, and their floppy hair seemed absurd. But as they churned out hit after hit, I found myself drawn in. Their staircase video diaries, Zayn’s weekly “Vas Happenin!”, and Liam’s thick Black Country accent – all contributed to an illusion of authenticity that Simon Cowell had carefully manufactured.
Compared to today’s hyper-controlled celebrity landscape, they were surprisingly accessible. In their early days, they engaged with fans on Twitter, hosted lengthy live streams, and even met fans outside hotels. This fostered a global community, feeding the obsession of tweens across the globe. Looking back, it’s hard to comprehend the intensity of that fangirl culture, especially as a 25-year-old with a nine-to-five. I would spend hours tweeting at them, hoping for a reply or even a follow. I’d beg my mom for concert tickets and read absurd fanfiction just to feel a part of their world. When Zayn left the band in 2015, I had to take the morning off school. I even fought another girl to catch Harry’s water bottle at a concert (I won!). We loved them unconditionally, and they seemed to love us back.
Among the five, Liam was always the most ambitious. His second attempt at The X Factor, after reaching judges’ houses at 14, showcased his desire for success. Dubbed “Daddy Direction” by fans and the media for his confidence and perceived maturity, he was the first to answer questions in interviews, offering more polished and considered responses. While the other lads exuded natural charisma, Liam seemed to crave a certain level of seriousness. This ambition extended to his musical contributions. His songwriting abilities shone on their later albums, particularly their last, Made in the AM, where he had multiple writing credits. His vocals, too, were often the backbone of the band, especially in the early days when he and Harry anchored most songs. As the years passed, the other members showcased their own vocal strengths, but Zayn’s exit created a space for Liam to step into the spotlight once more.
Liam’s death has sparked a complex range of emotions for fans like me. It’s impossible to ignore the controversies that marked his post-One Direction life. He became a father, but his relationship with Cheryl Cole, a mentor on The X Factor, was questioned by some fans. Subsequent reports of substance abuse, rehab, relationship turmoil, and criticisms of his former bandmates surfaced, followed by serious allegations of abuse from his ex-girlfriend Maya Henry.
Confronting these realities alongside the memory of the young, energetic Liam we saw in those early 1D videos is deeply unsettling. It’s okay to grieve for the loss of a part of our formative years, to realize that a 5/5 reunion will never happen, and to feel sorrow when hearing his voice on a forgotten 1D track. It’s also okay to feel a mix of nostalgia, pain, and anger. Moreover, it’s crucial to support Maya Henry as a victim of alleged abuse and commend her for speaking out.
Mourning a member of One Direction felt unimaginable until now. We’ve all experienced celebrity deaths that felt personal – the Corey Monteiths, the Amy Winehouses, the Kobe Bryants. This one feels like a bizarre fever dream, a surreal event that leaves us struggling to process our emotions. But one thing is clear: I am not alone in this. As I rode the Tube this morning, listening to old One Direction hits – one of countless fans doing the same – I realized that the 11-year-old fangirl within me will never truly disappear, no matter how grown up I think I am. Liam Payne’s legacy is a bittersweet reminder that even the brightest stars have complex stories, and their absence leaves an enduring impact.
