Why do we grieve celebrities?

I investigated why The Queen's death has had such an impact on so many (can I call her a celebrity... maybe not... but it works as a title)

I’m only one click away from a close up shot of someone crying. Tear-soaked cheeks, shuddering hands, grasping flowers. They can be found somewhere along the god-knows-what-it’s-at-now mile long slowly shuffling queue, that I can visit in a second, without ever having to join it myself. The BBC have rolling coverage of it, TikTok is full of ‘come with me to join the queue’ videos and Twitter is full of queue based memes and jokes.

It's also being asked: why? “Why are so many people mourning someone they didn’t know?” It’s made some really angry – the cancelling of hospital appointments, the extortionate cost to the tax-payer, how Charles won’t pay inheritance tax. There’s no way to control that - that’s impossible - but it’s easy to take that rage out on the outpouring of grief across our television screens, to scorn those who feel her loss deeply.

This is understandable. I’m angry at those things too, but I think they need separated: it’s perfectly possible to fume at the unfairness and stupidity of these decisions, while being sad that The Queen has died. I also think it’s important to keep your rants to yourself, or inside your own home. Don’t publicly make fun of someone who is in pain. (But, equally, don’t brand someone as ‘heartless’ if they don’t find something as upsetting as you do.) As when I began to research and think about why so many are feeling grief over The Queen, someone who they’ve probably never met or met only briefly, I’ve learned that it’s a lot more complex than a few tears on your television screen. This type of grief, while it might seem ridiculous to some, should be treated with care.

“[It’s known as] parasocial grief,” writes Mary-Frances O Connor, PhD in her book, The Grieving Brain. Mary is the associate professor of psychology, at the University of Arizona and conducts various studies to discover what happens to our brains when we grieve. I spoke to her this week, to discuss her findings (newsletter on that interview coming soon) and while our conversation didn’t dwell on The Queen’s death (perhaps this makes me a terrible journalist, there was just so much more I wanted to speak to her about) we did discuss attachment bonds. These are the “invisible tethers that motivate us to seek out our loved ones, to derive comfort from their presence,” she writes. Our brain and body’s neurochemistry stimulates these when we fall in love – which, of course, doesn’t just mean traditional romantic love but it, as Mary writes, “the process of overlapping our identities. Including the other in the self, we become overlapping circles.” Grief develops as a result of these bonds not being broken as such (as the connection remains) but severed, as the brain can’t understand why we can no longer connect, physically, to the person we’ve bonded to.

I’ve been thinking about these a lot this week, as, admittedly, I’ve never really understood why the death of a celebrity impacts people so much. I feel sad for the friends and family of that person, but I don’t personally feel any pain, or loss. But reading Mary-Frances’ book, in which she has a section on this very topic, slots a few things into place for me. Especially when I think of how many of us define ourselves by the celebrities we like, and admire.

“We have a surprising amount of access to what famous personalities portray as their lifestyles and beliefs, their likes and dislikes,” she writes. “This kind of information is not necessarily sufficient for forming an attachment bond however, if we think about what the prerequisites for attachment are, our relationships with [famous people] may still meet the criteria to some degree. First, the person must meet our attachment needs. This means that the person is available when we need someone to turn to in our darkest hour.”

Attachment also requires another aspect, according to O Connor. “The person also has to seem special, different from other people,” she writes.

They also have to feel like they speak directly to you, whether that’s through lyrics that helped you understand yourself better or, I suspect in The Queen’s case, in her speeches – the times she (to some) offered comfort during tough times. I can see how she was the public figure many turned to, or thought about, when they were struggling. Especially if the person in grief doesn’t have their own friends or family who they feel close enough to share those grey, terrifying moments with.

But I also think there’s something else going on. I think The Queen dying has, for many, reminded them of their own grief. It’s brought it back, whizzed it to the forefront of their minds and – whether it’s conscious or not – infused them with a sense of sadness. It could be that The Queen reminded them of their person. Or that the sight of Meghan gripping Harry’s hand as he walked behind his grandma’s coffin, brought them back to the immediate aftermath of loss, into that deep fog.

They might not even realise it, they might think they’re “just sad because The Queen died” or they could be using that as an excuse to let everything out. They might feel ashamed of their personal grief and want to use a public grief as an outlet. We don’t know what’s going on in anyone else’s mind.

And it’s this I think is the most important thing to remember. A lot of emotions are being felt keenly right now. Whether it’s sadness over a death, or anger and fear as someone is terrified that they might not be able to heat their home this winter, they’re all flying around the air, clashing with one another and… no one is winning. Because no one wins when we enter into a one-upmanship of who’s in more pain.

It only serves for us to feel dismissed and bury those things down, which, in turn, leads to that sadness or anger spiralling into something much more dangerous.

So I’d say (and I’m aware this sounds simplistic, and all of this is a lot more complex than I could ever sum up in a sentence, or a conclusion to a newsletter) that however you’re feeling (scared/sad/angry) and whatever that’s based on (Queen’s death/government decisions/both) try to talk to someone about it. Preferably in person, rather than online. And if you’re on the receiving end of those emotions? You don’t necessarily have to understand them, but it’s important to listen.  

How are you feeling right now? Let me know in the comments! I hope you’re OK. Sending love. And, please do check out Mary’s book, it’s incredible and I’m so excited to share our conversation soon, if you haven’t already sign up for it to land directly in your inbox. Oh, and as I’ve released this newsletter a little early, there won’t be one on Sunday as I need to spend some time on other work! Hope you understand.