Alex Scott: I’ve Never Told The FULL Truth About My Past
嘉宾：Alex
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§01Transcript — part 1
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I'm in a room listening to everything go on and just hoping she's alive. That was the hardest night, that one.
Without further ado, I'm Stephen Bartlett, and this is The Diary of a CEO. I hope nobody's listening, but if you are, then please keep this to yourself.
Alex, we sit here in East London today. Your story starts in East London as well. Take me right back to East London when you grew up in 1984.
Instantly, even when you say East London, I'm smiling because I have so many happy memories. The feeling that it gave me—a sense of community, everyone looking after you—even though it was surrounded by struggle and hardship. It makes me smile. Instantly, I can go to playing in the football cage. That football cage was freedom. For me, it was an out; it was an escape. That football cage allowed me to start dreaming of a world that I never thought I'd be able to see or imagine.
When was the first time you'd watched a football match? How did football come into your life?
I don't even remember sitting down to watch a football game on TV because both my mom and dad weren't athletes. It's not a thing that we'd sit down and watch. But in that area that I grew up in, that football cage was everything. It was the community; it was where people came together. I think that's how I got into football and that's what I liked. It gave me that connection to other people. For me, it wasn't dreaming that I wanted to be a professional footballer; it was a sense of a safe space in that cage and feeling at one with everyone else in the neighborhood.
Escapism. A safe space. Why was it a safe space?
A safe space from my home environment. The football cage was fun. I could smile; you felt free. And at home, it was like I was locked in. It was an environment where it was very much controlled.
Controlled by your father?
Yeah.
Tell me about your mother and father.
My mom is an incredible person. Full of love, full of softness, and just a light around her. She wants to do everything for everyone before herself. She doesn't even think about herself. No, she doesn't even see the person that she is because ultimately that was taken away from her. My dad—even though I see the love in my dad, and I wanted to love him so much, I was a daddy's little girl—he had this dark side. That's the side that we saw a lot of growing up.
When was the first time you recall seeing your father's dark side?
I can't put an age to it, to be honest. But it was there mostly from what I can always remember. You saw this loving side—and I always say "the drink"—but obviously the drink helps it come out a lot more. But you could see him turn. It was like his thoughts saw what he was going through in his mind, and that's how he took it out on, I'd say, all of us, but more so my mom. It was just sad for me because I could see this good in my dad that was there when he smiled or when he was listening to music. That's the side I just always wanted to see and was begging to stay there, but it wasn't.
In that home was you, your brother, and your mom?
Yeah.
These memories—how old were you when you started having these memories about this other side of your father?
Well, he left when I was seven. So from the moment I was a baby—from two, three—I could see and feel the environment that we're in. That you're not allowed to do something, because if you do step out of line, you know what's going to happen, and you don't want that to happen.
What’s going to happen?
What my mom would go through. The terror. The helplessness that you can't do anything. Just, yeah. So you're living in fear. You're living in fear every single moment. Hence why then the football cage becomes your escape.
Did you want to go home after school?
Yeah. I wanted to go home to protect my mom. I wanted to go home to put a shield around her, to be strong for her, even though she was doing the same for me and my brother. But it's like you wanted to protect someone, but how can I? I can't. So my protection was to try and love my dad all I can, to keep trying to bring that side out of him. If he has the love, then maybe he'll start loving us in that way and all those darkness and the demons will go.
Did that work?
No. It's weird because I sit here with you and say it is dark. It's hard for me to talk about because I suppose I've hidden it for all this time. It's easy not to talk about it. But even though there's so much darkness, I remember the good times with my dad. I remember going to the record shops and buying vinyl and coming back and dancing. My dad loved his music. I love my music because of that. So there are so many things that, yeah, even though those dark times, I know because of everything that I've gone through, I am the person I am now. You have to take the good bits and the bad bits, and it's what makes me "me."
You said earlier that your mother had had her personality or the goodness taken from her. What do you mean by that?
Because every single day, you see my mom walking on eggshells. She's scared to have a voice, to say something, because she knows what she's going to go through. So that light that is around her and the woman that she has been—that outgoing personality that everyone loves—she doesn't see that because it's been stripped. She views herself as a coward. As much as I try and tell her, she doesn't see herself like that. She's a coward for staying with my dad for those years, for not leaving earlier for her kids. So as much as we see her as an amazing woman, she doesn't see herself like that one bit.
Still today?
Still today. She's scared of my book coming out because I've finally told that story. She's scared that her friends are going to look at her in a certain way. Like I said, she calls herself a coward, where I just see the woman that's so full of courage and the strength and the vulnerability that she's shown her whole life for us—for me and my brother.
In the book, you talk about two vivid memories you have of that time. One of them being the day your mother did speak back to your dad at a joint birthday party. Do you still remember that day?
Yeah. Stephen, we had the most amazing birthday party. It's hard because there's not many things that we've celebrated or those moments. I don't even know how this party came about—whether it was for me and my brother or if it was my dad throwing a party because he was a big character. Everyone loved Tony Scott. He had this way about him. But we ended up having a birthday party in the local community, me and my brother. The music, everyone was dancing, and that's where I could see my mom. She was the life and soul of the party; her energy was so infectious.
And then the party ended in the community center. We went back to the flat where I grew up. And then it was just exactly a tone that I know all too well, that no one else knows apart from me, my brother, and my mom. When he asked her to go and get some lemonade, she was in the middle of a conversation, so a natural "No Tony, you get your lemonade." And then it was that icy tone when he repeated it, and she said no again.
It's hard because I'm looking at you, but I can see her. So yeah, then straight away I know what's coming. As soon as everybody leaves that night, he doesn't forget. So then we all know what's going to happen. My mom might have been brave enough and forgotten in that moment because she's having fun, she's having a conversation with her friend. And yeah... that was the hardest night, that one.
You know, the thing about the book is we've never had the conversations. So my mom is trying to survive for her kids, and then I'm in a room listening to everything go on and just hoping she's alive. But she doesn't know what me and my brother are doing or feeling until I've written the book.
In those moments, did you speak to your brother about it?
No.
You talk about being awake at night hearing what your father is doing to your mother and never knowing if your brother was laid there thinking and feeling and hearing the same things. You never looked over at him, never spoke to him about it?
No. He was in the next room. I had a little box room, that was everything. And then there's a silence the next day. You're not allowed to speak until you're spoken to. That's the environment we've grown up in. So all you have is a look or trying to catch a feeling. And our feeling is: mom's alive. That we've still got our mom for the moment.
When you woke up the day after that party incident and you saw your mom, what did you see?
Just empty sadness. What can you do? Someone's so hurt that every time she moves, it hurts. I heard everything. I heard her trying to run. And then so, as a five or six-year-old, I just want to hug my mom. But we can't.
You can't hug her?
No.
Why?
We weren't allowed to show love. I suppose that's why... I suppose a word like "control" is easy to say, isn't it? Until you break it down and understand that's the control. Like we're not even allowed to show love or hug or speak, really.
So the day after that incident, you're not allowed to go over to her and hug her?
No. My dad has told us you're not allowed to go and hug her.
What's the consequences if you hugged her?
That something would happen to me and my brother. And did that happen to us? Yeah. If we spoke back, if we didn't obey orders. If you show love or emotion, you're not being strong. You're not showing that you're strong, right? You just get on with things. Last night happened, you just get on with things.
When you look back—and you've talked about this in your book as well—about how in many respects that served you becoming a football player and it made you a little bit more resilient. But when you look back at those early years and you see how emotion was disallowed or squeezed out of you, were there words spoken that told you emotion was not a useful thing, or was it just actions and behavior? Where did you lose that sense of emotion and love and affection?
For me, I always had it. I know from a kid I just wanted to give love or see the light in someone. I wasn't getting it from my dad, or my mom was showing me in a different way. I know I wanted it; I was craving it. I remember my best friend Regan going round to her house and they're huggers. Everything's so affectionate. Stephen, I would like freeze like this. She'd hug me and I'd just stand there like, oh my gosh, I don't even know what to do, what happens in this moment. And she laughs about it to this day.
And still to this day, it's hard. I don't hug my mom. Like I want to. The other day it was her birthday. I was like, "Alright mom, little hug and pat on the back, love you." And then like she feels awkward, I'm kind of awkward, because that's how we've grown up. We don't know how to do that. I find it easier now because I've gone through the process of learning that and that it's okay. But then when I go back into the environment, to this day, I don't think I've ever hugged my brother. Because that's still that environment.
It's hard because for me, I feel so lucky. I have this career, football, now in broadcasting. I've traveled the world. I've educated myself in such a different way, surround myself with people that are affectionate. I love giving love to other people. And then I go back into that environment and straight away I'm like this again. It's like that frozen state. And it's hard because I've been on the journey; it doesn't mean you're ready for it. That I can try and bring it out of you or I can... baby steps, but yeah.
And I guess that environment is still a trigger?
Yeah. You know what's so, for me, it's kind of happy, what's so interesting also, is my niece lives with us. We've had her since she was two living with my mom and my brother at home in East End. She gets it all. And I see that through my mom, through my brother. For all the love that they didn't have or the hugs, they give it to her. Which is beautiful to see, but they still can't do it amongst themselves.
The other moment you talk about in the book is the day that your mom told your dad to leave.
Yeah. She said she found it in her strength. My Nan had recently passed away, sudden. And it was hard for my Nan, this story from my mom, because she knew what was going on, even though it wasn't spoken about. And then yeah, as soon as she passed away—sudden heart attack—my mom found her strength to say, "No, that's enough's enough." And she finally told him that was it. She said to me she was finding ways—she'd gone to someone like a homeless shelter or something to see if she did run, would she be safe? And then would they be able to then collect us afterwards? So she was trying to find ways to leave the environment, but she then always couldn't because it came back to me and my brother. And then yeah, that day she finally—enough was enough. She said she just didn't care. She didn't care what would happen to her or whatever, but she knew that this couldn't go on anymore for the sake of me and my brother.
Did she tell you what she said to him?
No. I just remember getting the shout to come down the hallway. Me and my brother marching down and then waiting for an order or something. And then him saying that we had to choose. That he was leaving and we have to choose there and then, right then, whether we live with mom or live with dad. And me just looking at my brother like, "What?" and he's making us choose like right then. And I knew something had gone on because mom's got her back to us, so obviously something had happened on her face or because she couldn't look at us.
It's a pretty disgusting situation to put children in, isn't it? To get them to pick a parent. Because regardless of the abuse, you still love both parents, right?
Yeah. There's my dad. Like I say, I see the light, the smile, or how he is, and I feel just sad. Like even to this day when I'm thinking about him, I'm just like, I suppose he's just sad. I don't want anyone to feel sadness, you know? So I remember in that moment—it was always my mom; I was always going to pick my mom—but it's the thought that my dad would be lonely as well. How do I... why do I have to choose? In that moment, would I have chosen for things to stay how they were? No. So I would have chosen to just go with my mom. But it was just trying to process as a seven-year-old that my dad might feel lonely and what happens to my dad? But no, I need to protect my mom, I need to be strong for my mom, I need to look after her.
And then your dad leaves.
He's gone. He just leaves with everything. Furniture, everything. Not that we even had a lot to take, but it's still just, you know, you make do, you get by. But yeah, he took everything. Mom let him take everything too, because then he didn't have a hold over her anymore.
And you stayed in the house?
We stayed in the house, yeah.
What was life like beyond that point?
I think that's why I'm so lucky, Stephen. I had football. I had that out, I had something to focus on. So I'd escape into a different environment that gave me structure. Where I think for my mom and my brother, it was a lot harder. You're still processing. My brother—and I suppose this is where it hurts my mom because she puts a lot of blame on herself—we went from a controlled environment (which very much I was still in a controlled but disciplined environment with football) and then my brother totally went the opposite way. For someone that had been controlled in that environment, he then had a freedom, but he didn't know what to do with that freedom. My mom didn't know what to do with it. So I think it was harder, it's been a lot harder for my brother.
When you say it's been harder for your brother, what does that look like in reality?
That I'd say even to this day he doesn't know himself or what to do, his purpose, carrying guilt. You know, we talk about strength and stuff—I know it's very different for men—him feeling that he should have been that protector maybe, you know? When he looks at his baby sister, I've managed to make a career or do something, and he looks at his life and what has he done?
Do you have these conversations with him as adults?
No. We can't. We've not had a conversation about anything. As a family, we can't sit down. We don't know how to. There's not been a conversation about anything.
Are you close?
Close in a different way. You know when you hear stories of brothers and sisters—that love we have for each other is so strong, but in a different way. It's protecting from afar. We'll do anything for each other and be there, but it's not a "pick up the phone, how are you sis, what's happened, what's going on in your life." But no matter what, you'll just always be there for each other.
Why do you think that is? Why do you think there's such a distance?
Because you don't know how to communicate. We don't know how to talk when all of your life from all those ages—that age gap when my dad was in the house—we didn't learn anything. I've gone away from that and taught and educated myself differently, but my mom and my brother have still been in that.
I felt a bit guilty actually because I remember going to therapy, learning all of this, learning my behaviors, learning then to deal with my emotions and talk and like, "Great! Go and do this with my mom and my brother, we'll start opening the conversation." But then actually it took my mom back to a place that hurts her. And I did that because I was ready. It's bringing up all the stuff that's still so raw that she's never dealt with. You just got on with life. It's what you do, right? Just put a plaster over it, you get on with stuff. The mentality: get your head down and get through things. But actually, you're not dealing with it, are you? It's still there, it's still raw. And it will show up. It'll rear its head in very ugly ways at times if it's unaddressed. Because it's still controlling you, it's just controlling you from the back room somewhere.
That's what I almost think in terms of domestic violence and what goes on. I think we deal with a lot of stuff until when the person has left the environment, right? But then a lot of the work needs to start afterwards also. Like those conversations, actually dealing with those emotions. What next? Instead of "Oh, they've gone, I can get on with life." Actually, you can't because it's still all there; it's inside.
Were you ever jealous of other families?
No. Never jealous, no. Because I feel I'm lucky. I've had everything from my mom. I've had the love, the care, her doing everything she can. So I've never looked at other families. And I feel lucky; I've been invited into families that have shown me love or taken me away and had that. But ultimately, for me, my mom is absolutely everything. She's done everything she can. I wouldn't be here, this person right now, if it wasn't for everything that my mom has done for me in my life.
Comparison can sometimes make us feel sad, though, because what comparison does is it gives us these kind of false expectations of how our life is supposed to be going. So we look at another family—"Oh, look at Christmas, they're all sat there and they're all dancing around the table and they've all got their little crowns on their head"—and then we look at our lives and go, "Maybe I wish I had all my family here and we could have these moments." You ever felt those kinds of things? I know I have. I spent quite a few Christmases on my own even in the last couple of years. People don't really know that, but because my family's quite dysfunctional. So getting them all to be happy in the same place is not such a simple task. So sometimes it's just easier—I think I just flew to Portugal on Christmas last year.
Do you know, it's so interesting you say that? Because I find myself removing myself from those situations that I feel uncomfortable with. So same thing—Christmas—I want to escape. Because for me, it reminds me of sadness. So it's not comparing to other people's families and the happiness and everything. For me, it reminds me of sadness. So then I'd rather remove myself, travel away, be away in my own thoughts, than sit through it and see my mom's sadness. Something that I can't change in her. It's like as if I'm still failing to make her happy in those moments. And that's hard for me. So it's never comparing to other families; it's just the—I feel helpless in trying to help my mom. That hurts.
Have you always seen that as your responsibility to cheer your mom up, to keep her happy? Because you talked about rushing home from school to try and protect her, and now you feel like you're failing her.
I don't know if I've ever thought about it as a responsibility. I don't know, I think it's just something that's me—that I've always... I'm a helper. I want to help people. I want them to be happy. I want to do everything I can for someone to bring joy to them. I don't know. Maybe it's because the upbringing I didn't have much of that or something. I don't know. So I've not seen it as a responsibility, but I just want her to have a life that maybe she's missed and bring her that light back.
In order to do that, she's going to have to confront some of the things that bring the pain back as well, though, right? We see it so many times in our friends and people that you know they've been through something. You know it's holding them back from living the fullest life they could live today. But in order to unlock that fullest life, they have to go back through some stuff and bring it out into the open. I see it sometimes in my friends where I know they don't want to go back there. But if they don't, then they're going to... there's a risk that, in my view—and who the fuck am I to tell them about their lives—but they're going to end up missing out on the fullness of life. It's a battle—do you want to keep on keeping on and just keep it in the back room and live a less complete life, or do you want to go back there and do the hard work to try and unlock your... and it’s a battle.
It's like a, yeah, what is it? "Face the fear, see the fear and face it and do it anyway." I'm of that mindset. Like, it might be scary, but I'm still going to do it; I'm still going to give it a try. But then I suppose everyone doesn't have that mindset today. In order to move forward or see into the future, you can't if you're still driving looking in the rearview mirror—not dealing with all the past stuff behind. And then so for me, I think I've got to a stage... like why am I talking about this in a book? It's been hard for all this time; I've hidden it.
How long?
Up until now. I have never spoken about my upbringing or what's gone on in my life until this book, until this moment.
Why was now the right time?
Because I think I've learned a lot about myself. I'm older, I'm wiser, and I don't want the heaviness of it anymore. And I actually ultimately wrote it hoping that my mom—it frees my mom. It's part "me," but hoping that this finally frees my mom and she can move forward from it all. That I'm okay. Ronnie's done okay for himself. You don't have to protect us anymore. Let us look after you. You're an amazing woman.
When you write this book and your mom knows that you're going to be sharing this with the world, what are those conversations like? I guess at some point you might have had to read this book to her or tell her about certain parts.
She read it. She loved it. But she found it super interesting because once again, I've gone through a lot of stuff that I've not spoken to her about. That she didn't know about me because once again, I've always been trying to protect her. So when I've gone through stuff, my first thing is: I can't tell my mom because I don't want her to panic about me. She's already been through enough, so I can look after myself. So her reading stuff, she's actually learned a lot about me, my emotions, how I deal with things that have come up. And then ultimately, like I said, that when she was going through all of that stuff with my dad, she didn't know what I was in the room doing—that I didn't sleep once because I'm listening just to make sure that I can hear her move in the morning.
Heaviness. You used the word "heaviness." You didn't want the heaviness anymore. What was the heaviness?
Carrying all of this. Not speaking about what went on. Hiding it. Every time I'm asked about my mom or my dad in interviews—because I think if you look back at everything that I've done, as soon as this topic is brought up about my mom, I get emotional. Because straight away, someone doesn't know, just talking about my mom and me saying, "Oh, she's amazing," straight away I'm picturing everything that went on, why I think she's amazing. But I can't tell you that. You just hear me get emotional and then I'd change the subject. But like I said, I suppose through learning how to communicate better and understand my emotions, I just want to be free. I want to be light. I want to move forward in my life, not having any of it anymore. I'm at a stage in this point in my life where I'm ready to enjoy this stage, this next season, you know?
You used the word earlier on, "patterns." What were the symptoms of that heaviness? How did you start to see it manifesting in your behavior?
Shutting off from life. Shutting off from dealing with emotions, pushing them down. Not letting anyone in to help me when I need help. Not talking to anyone. Just, I'm always "okay." Just carry on. What's next? What happens next? "Yeah, I can do that, I can do that." Doing everything for everyone else around me, but actually I just need someone to do something for me. Being like, "Okay, you're offering help? I'm going to say okay." Instead of saying no to everything because I can deal with everything.
Which ultimately, that's where people talk about me and the trolling. And you know, "the trolls pushed me into therapy." No, they didn't. You know, it was just that stage on top of every single other thing that I finally was like, "I need to talk to someone. This is all too heavy for me to deal with. Like I'm in a dark place. And I can either carry on in that dark place or actually I can do something about it."
This is post-footballing career?
Yeah. Went into broadcasting. It was a lot—a lot of events had happened in my life that I didn't even know until I wrote them down in a book, like a timeline, and I'm like, "Shit, no wonder why I bloody ended up in therapy!" because I hadn't dealt with any of it. I just kept going. That's been a mentality and a trait. That's the pattern.
One of the things we didn't talk much about yet is—which I think would be a surprise to a lot of people—is that you couldn't speak for many years growing up because of a speech impediment.
Yeah. It's mad I sit here talking to you, chatting away.
It's crazy. And then working in broadcasting. But when, you know, speech impediment is something, you know, you've gotten over the speech impediment and you went to speech therapy from what I understand for a while. The thing that's probably, you know, I assume would stay with you for life is how that makes you feel about yourself. You know what I mean? Because you've overcome it, but the thoughts of struggle or maybe like not fitting in socially or being a bit insecure about things can linger long after the solution has been found. When you look back in your adult years, how did that impact your life?
How other people viewed me. I didn't feel like my voice was important or I wouldn't be able to get across what was going on in my head. It's mad you say I'm over it; I'm not. Like it's just I can hide it a lot better. Or I know that, okay, I have to reword things or I memorize scripts, for instance. Or I'm practicing them so when I get on camera, I know that word that's coming up I can't say, I've practiced and practiced, but then I go to say it and it still doesn't work because I just can't articulate where the words come from. Even earlier today, before I was having a juice and I asked if there was... I can't even say the word "cinnamon" or something, whatever the spice is in it. There's certain things I just can't say. But it's almost I found a habit of just laughing at myself before everyone else laughs at me. Or then just not finding my voice, not speaking out, because I'm scared that it won't come out the way that's in my head. I know my brain works so fast—I'm always thinking ten steps ahead of everyone else—but I can't get it out.
How bad was it for people that might not understand what it's like to have a speech impediment when you're younger?
It's hard because you go back to the environment that I grew up in. It was actually then easier for it not to, because you don't speak until you're spoken to. So it's easy not to speak. Which actually then full circle, then my mom didn't detect it till later on, because then I just wasn't speaking because we was in that environment where I wasn't really playful or speaking out anyway. So it's not until then and then having to re-correct it. But then I'm in an environment with someone who I'm sitting with and I can feel like the love or they're caring for me. So then I think it's just a game, right? That I can feel something from you that you're invested in me, which is totally different to that what I'm feeling of my dad.
So then you go back to those patterns. I feel like that's the pattern then I then craved with everyone. I then just want my first coach to see something in me. "I'll do everything for you, just believe in me." Like I want to feel that from you. Relationships, the same thing. It's like I'm always seeking that from what I wanted from my dad, I suppose, in my childhood.
Difficult to have relationships when the first model of love you've ever witnessed was deeply toxic.
Yeah, that, the speech impediment—so not knowing how to communicate or speak properly in scared of what I'm trying to say doesn't come out right. So from the speech impediment, it's just easier not to speak a lot in my circumstances. That's how the speech impediment for me works. Which is crazy because like you said...
You do that for a living now!
Yeah! How does that work out? Because the thing is, on TV, I suppose I don't think about the millions of people watching me or that. For me, it's just always I'm so interested in the person sitting opposite me because I'm learning. You know, the area of East London that I grew up in, I didn't think I'd be surrounded by people that view the world or have seen something in a certain way, and I'm just... sometimes I'm not speaking! Like you ask a question and you're wanting me to speak. So the same thing—I can ask you something and you're telling me this amazing story and I'm just sitting there, even though I'm presenting, I'm just amazed because I'm just like, "Wow, I'm learning something here." So ultimately, yeah, I do it for a living, but no, I'm just sitting there learning and only speaking sometimes, really, even though it's on TV.
But like you said, in relationships, yeah. I know that pattern of not speaking or when something's tough, I would run away from it. Like just push it down, push the emotions down. The next day everything will be fine, I'll carry on like nothing ever happened. Which for my partner has always been the super hardest thing, because they want to talk about it and get it out and all the feelings. But then I was always scared how those feelings or if you got to that angry state, what would happen? Because I grew up seeing that in my dad. So then I just want everything to be great. "Light, fine. Everything's fine, tomorrow everything will be great."
But that's the thing in relationships: you've got to battle it out to resolve a problem. And if you don't, it ends up being deposited in the relationship as resentment or contempt, and it just stays there as an issue unaddressed and then it'll pop up some other day.
Yeah. And I think that's everything that happened to me up until I went to therapy—is that it finally all needed to come out. Everything. To deal with the emotions, the childhood, the speech impediment, hiding it all.
I've come to learn—I remember saying to one of my friends last week—I think the single most important thing in any relationship, if it is to last, especially romantic relationships, is conflict resolution. Because what I see relationships as... imagine two dots on a piece of paper, and then the relationship begins and they become these lines moving as the relationship carries its course. And then there'll be things that start to make the lines deviate from each other and go a bit wider. But conflict resolution keeps the two people close. You know, if your partner, you don't like the way he eats that thing—you can talk about it, resolve it. When things go unresolved, it seems like these two parallel lines start to deviate and you move further apart, and then you're not having sex, but you don't know how to talk about it, so they just continue to deviate. So conflict resolution seems to be the thing that keeps contentment out of a relationship—which Dr. Professor John Gottman says is the number one killer of relationships—but it also keeps us close. If you're not a master in conflict resolution, it must be quite... because you want to avoid conflict entirely, and then you don't know how to communicate in a way that's going to help you to resolve the conflict. It must be difficult.
I'd say difficult, but then I would just always find a way of—which obviously is not right, which I've now figured out about myself—I would change things. I would stop doing things to try and make my partner happy. So I'm then changing myself; I'm not being my true authentic self. Because yes, I'm avoiding the conflict and everything, but in doing so, I've stopped doing what I want to do or what I like just to then always keep everything nice and happy.
And then you'll resent. That's where the contempt shows up, because you think, "Fuck, I'm not doing this for me and I'm not doing this anymore, I'm doing it for..." But then I wouldn't even speak about that! Like that would be "me" then. So I'd just sit there, silent. Like, why am I mad? What's going on in my head? Like, why am I feeling this? What's going on? Yeah, because I've changed and I'm doing everything just to try and keep being happy.
And you've solved that?
I don't think you'd ever solve anything; you learn. I'm learning. It's interesting—what did I hear the other day about how we spend more time as people studying other people? What you wear, what you study, how you act, how you behave, than actually spending time studying ourselves. And so I'd say over the last two and a half years, since going to therapy, I'm studying myself more. So those patterns, those learning how to communicate better or what I do, which will then help me in a relationship moving forward, hopefully.
When you look back at your football career—big smile on your face—a really amazing career. You're very much considered a legend in the game. Why do you think you were successful at football when you look back? What was it about you and your character that separated you from those thousands, hundreds of thousands of other people you were competing with to play for England or to play for Arsenal?
I think it goes back to the cage, first of all. For me, football was just always an out, and it was a happy place, and I was scared to always lose that. So yeah, even though like I went on—what, 140 caps for England—and then there'd be people like, "Yeah, you're the first name on a team sheet, you're a favorite," I played every game for England kind with that fear that it could be taken away. This could be my last game. Like, what if I don't get picked next week? What am I going to do? It's all I've ever known in my life. I know I wasn't the most talented. Like, I wasn't. There were people that were supposed to be at the top and make it; they were the next best thing in women's football. No one ever spoke about me like that in terms of growing up in the Arsenal team. I was Al, I was Al that grew up in East London, you know? I loved Arsenal. That's how everyone viewed me, that I just loved the club because for me, it was a home. But no one ever spoke that I was going to make it. But I suppose that's where I just wanted people to believe in me, you know? So it was like, I will do everything to prove to you, you know? I've got something, just look at me, I've got something. I love this place. So I think it was driven by that, really. And a feeling of not wanting to let people down, even though they didn't believe in me.
How did that manifest in terms of your training and your performance and your preparation and your obsession?
Trying to be the best that I can be every day. In every training session. Like I've been given an opportunity. How dare I turn up to training and not leave it giving it my all? Or come into training and be like, "Nah, I don't fancy it today." Like I'm so lucky. Like I've come from a council estate on a concrete football pitch, and now I get to walk in at Highbury or be at the Arsenal men's training ground. It's like, who am I to be like, "Nah, I don't fancy it today"? Like I just loved what it was giving me in my life.
It's funny, we often think of highly motivated people—we say, "How do you stay motivated?"—looking in the mirror and going, "Come on, we've got this." It's more... it's more, sometimes as you've described it, like an escape from something else. And we don't think of motivation as escapism all the time, or insecurity, but it so often is.
Yeah. I just knew what football was giving me in my life. Something that I had dreams, but never dreamed that I'd be able to travel the world or... I remember in the youth age groups getting on a minibus to go to Nottingham. "Where is this place?" Didn't even know this place existed in the UK, you know? And here I am on a minibus eating a sandwich from a packed lunch, you know? I've been out the house all day. It's like, great! I didn't want to let go of that. Playing for England—I got to go on an airplane, got to go to China. "What? Oh my gosh, I didn't even know how many hours on a plane that was!" You know, all those things were just feeding more. I knew it was more than football, but football was allowing me that platform to see things and learn things about the world that I know was making me even more hungry to keep it. And to keep that, I needed to keep doing well at football.
And you end up retiring at 33, 34? You quit the international team at 33, quit Arsenal at 34. If football was giving you all that you've described there, how did it feel to come to the end of your time with Arsenal and the England team?
Because I was learning more. I was learning more about the world and from other people. And actually, then I knew towards the end of my football career, it was giving me those feelings that I didn't want—the heaviness. And actually, then of feeling... this is not enough for me anymore. Not a feeling of being trapped; "trapped" is the wrong word. But it was heavy towards the end of my career. I was taking on a lot of emotions, responsibility. I was captain, but in terms of, I don't know, I've always been this person where people can offload all their emotions on me. So I'd do that, I'd take that home, I'd try and solve a lot of problems on and off the pitch, and I just... I wasn't happy anymore in my last couple of seasons.
What I didn't know—I remember doing a documentary about mental health and the doctor, Tanya Byron is her name, she described it to me so well. I didn't know; I was like a functional depressive this whole time. And that started in those later years of my footballing career, but I didn't know, I didn't know how to describe it or what I was feeling. You know, I was just turning up, I wasn't happy, it was heavy, taking on everyone's emotions—management, players—trying to fix everything. And then I'd be home in the evening and be like, "Whoa, I don't want to talk to anyone." Like I physically couldn't talk to anyone, which are those patterns. Then I'd switch off from the world. If you try and phone me, call me, wouldn't pick up. "Mom, yeah I'm okay," don't want to have a conversation, because everything was just then heavy. No one in football knows that, because I could go to football, I'd put on a face. Like I'm Alex—"Yeah, everything's great!" Leader, captain, great.
But then I knew I couldn't do it anymore. I did a TV show, *Bear Grylls*, and that was the first time I knew I was ready to retire from football. I was surrounded by different people, different conversations about life, other than being in a football bubble where everything you're consumed by is everything—just sport going on in the world. Where I know I've always needed more. I know that's what's always been the spark in me about life. And it was the first time I started having conversations about the world, about other people's lives. I'd sit under the stars—it sounds like some Hollywood movie—but every night for survival we had like a stint that we had to keep the fire alight on *Bear Grylls*. And I remember just sitting there, keeping the fire alight, looking up at the stars and like, "I'm ready for my next chapter. Like I know there's another chapter." And it was just being brave enough to then take it.
And how did you know that would be in media? Or did you not know then?
I didn't know, no. I think I was... I was always frustrated from being away with England or even in Boston that I'd see a teammate full of personality, life and soul, just this bubbliness about them, get asked a question or being interviewed straight after a game and go in themselves. And I'd be confused. I'd be like, "What are you doing? That's not you!" I didn't understand. So I remember just randomly asking one of the camera guys like, "Oh, let me interview her after, let me just ask some questions." And then straight away doing that and then seeing a teammate relax. And then everyone saying to me, "Alex, you know you're a natural?" And I'm like, "What's a natural? I'm just asking some questions," like I don't get it.
So you don't... same thing, when people be like, "Oh, you sit in front of a camera and talk." Same, I don't think about the millions. Maybe that's why I'm not sat there in that frozen state in fear looking at cameras, because for me, the conversation is what feeds me. I like seeing people relax and be fun. So I just started doing more of it. And then I was like, right, scared about the next chapter after football. I was like, "What am I going to do?" People were trying to push me into management, and I was like, "It's not me. I don't have a passion to be a manager. Not at this stage; I've not seen myself in that role." And I was like, "No, I need to do something that I love, that I get a passion and an energy from." And so that's why I did a media degree.
I was like, right, if I'm going to do this, I know that I'm going to be judged, you know? And I don't like the feeling of anything just being given to you. So I'm like, "No, I'm going to work for it. Just like I had to do in my football career, I'll work for it, I'll do a media degree." So I went and did that whilst I was still playing for Arsenal. And then yeah, decided that in 2018 I was ready. It felt ready. I had a two-year contract on the table from Arsenal to sign. That's the comfort zone, the comfort blanket that I could have easily taken that. I'm still trying to pay my mortgage. I suppose most of my life is that: the fear of not having money to pay my bills and the debt man knocking on the door, like I grew up seeing him come round every Thursday. You know, that fear. But I was like, "No, I can't sign that contract. I know how unhappy I will be."
Did you have an alternative at that point? Did you have a contract from...?
No. Nothing there.
So what is that gap? I think about it like monkeys swinging through a jungle—you gotta let go of the last branch and just have faith that you're going to grab the next one. What was that period like in your life where you don't sign the contract and then you're looking for your next thing?
Because I suppose I've always had the fear or a lot of people: "What if it doesn't work out?" Where actually, I suppose I've always been the opposite: "What if it does work out?" I don't want to be held back in fear of "No, just in case." So it's more like I knew the head space that I was in, I couldn't sign that two-year contract. It'd be unfair. It'd be unfair to myself; it'd be unfair to my teammates, because I'd just be turning up to collect, you know, my monthly salary at the end—which isn't a lot! Nothing like the men or whatever, but it was enough to be secure and pay my mortgage monthly. But I know I couldn't do it. It was unfair.
When did your first broadcasting job emerge then, after that?
It's weird because I was doing random stuff for BBC like appearing on *Women's Football Show* or something. And it's when I announced my retirement, that's when it just went—okay, it's like I was free and then people were like, "Well, she's free to do more, she's got more hours in her day, like she can actually start doing some work." And then from BBC, yeah, they started offering me more. I was appearing on some of their flagship shows, *Football Focus* or kind of those ones. And then yeah, I suppose 2018 for me was that year when—whoosh—because then I went off to the World Cup 2018, the first female pundit for the BBC. And I suppose from there then it continued.
You talk about coming home one day through that period—and this is the part where you start talking about this functional or functioning depression. You talk about looking at yourself in the mirror and then taking a... walking past it, then taking a couple of steps back and looking at yourself in the mirror. Tell me about that day, that evening, what happened and you end up collapsing and you know, having a bit of a moment.
Do you know, I remember that like it was yesterday. Yeah, I keep going back to the word "heavy," I think, because straight away I feel it. I didn't know—well, no I did—that I was carrying a lot. I'd carried a lot through my football career, which I didn't really know; I was just doing it all, trying to solve everything. Straight away I took that into my broadcasting career. And like all these great things that "Yes, I'm the first this, I'm the first that"—I never set out to be that, I was just following something that I love, that I had a passion for. And then so all the stuff and I suppose the pressure that came with that—I didn't know I wasn't putting it on myself, but the expectation for me... the expectation I was putting on myself was not to let anyone down. Like I'd been given a chance. Like I can't let my BBC boss down. Like I've got this person that's finally believing in me, he's given me an opportunity to go to a men's World Cup. Like this is big.
So I was working so much, doing so much not to let anyone down. And then ultimately, on top of that, as you're becoming the first, as I'm the first female, all the negative stuff that come with that. All the trolling, all the online abuse, all of that. Like it just got to a stage where I just... I couldn't take it anymore. Like I'd been numbing everything, just carrying on. "I can't show I'm weak. If I show I'm not strong, if I show my weakness, then they're going to think I can't handle it. Oh, no, here she is, look, a female can't handle it. It's too much for her." So all of this I'd just been bottling and just carrying on, putting on this face, like everything's okay.
And then that night was when it all got too much. I didn't want to come home. I was drinking to switch off, to sleep, to numb it all, to forget about it. And I'd just got to a stage where I'd had a dad filled with drink, an uncle passed away who was an alcoholic... it's like "drink problem" and alcohol has been huge in my life. And here I was repeating those same patterns. Drinking every night to switch off from the world.
After work?
Yeah. To switch off from it all. Switch off from just life. Switch off from not talking to someone. Don't want to speak because then I'd have to speak about emotions and the heaviness continues, right? If I don't speak about it, it's great, it's going to go away. But actually it doesn't. It just gets bigger and bigger. And I think it was... we go back to how you said about Christmas and New Year. It was that—I was on my own because it was my choice, I wanted to escape everything, the feelings, and then just being so sad. So sad. And I was like, "I can't continue like this." So it was that choice in that moment the next day to Google "therapy."
What happened that night?
I just started crying. Just could not stop crying. Drinking, then the drinking wasn't switching off what was going on in my head. Just numb. I was literally on my bed curled up, just uncontrollably crying. And I don't know why. I don't know why I was crying the way I was. And why, why should I be crying? Because from the outside, I'm okay. I've had an amazing football career, I'm now working on TV, I can still pay my bills. Like, why should I be sad from the outside world? Who am I to be sad? I've got everything going for me, right? I couldn't understand it.
You understand it now?
I understand, yeah. That for so... all my life I had locked up all these feelings that I didn't know. Like how you said, they eventually find their way out. But I've had all these... I've had all this trauma. Everyone has trauma, whether big or small. Everyone goes through trauma, and I suppose I'd put up all these protective walls around me and then now they were just flooding out. Like I needed help.
How did the trolling online exacerbate, make all of this stuff worse? And be honest, you know, we all pretend it doesn't affect us.
Oh gosh, yeah. No, that's so easy when people say "Oh, don't read it, forget about it." Like but when constantly, every day... and yes, it's my job to sit in front of a camera, but the abuse of, you know, your skin color, what you're saying, just everything, the pure hatred. And I'm like, "What have I done?" That was some of the... like, "What have I done?" Like should I just stop? Because ultimately, I was just talking about something that I love, you know? I was just someone that worked super hard to then try and go and get a degree to get into this world, to get another job, you know, to be able to pay my bills and look after myself. And here I am getting nothing but pure hate and abuse every single day. And then I got to a stage I'm like, "I can't do this anymore. But why? Like, who... why should I let them win?" So I'm fighting this battle constantly every day with myself.
Did that make it harder to like really love showing up at work every day?
No, do you know why? Because like the football cage, the actual work being on screen was an escape. It gave me like an hour and a half where I'm doing *Super Sunday*—that was an escape! I was actually... you forget about everything. It's straight away when I'm going home once again, then I'm on my own, that's when it all spirals out of control. Like I can't take it. "Functional depressive"—like at work I'm totally fine. I'm professional, I'm on the ball, I'm doing the work, enjoying it, loving it. And then straight away then I can't take it. Hence why most probably I threw myself into more work. Didn't give myself time off. Work, work, work, because I'm loving doing it. Keep it coming, keep it coming, I can take this.
It's a distraction, isn't it? It's a distraction from just sitting with oneself and confronting...
Yeah. I see this so much in so many people I know—this, "I'll just make myself so busy that I won't have to actually deal with stuff."
It's almost like... I sat here with Maisie Williams and she... she'd been through a lot when she was younger and her with her father. Maisie Williams from *Game of Thrones*, the actor. And she talked about how acting was her escape. And the interesting thing is when we're in work and in, I guess, acting, we kind of get to dissociate from our our true self and identity. Like we become this character. Like even me now. This is obviously not... I'm being as authentic as I can, but I'm also trying to be a host of a podcast here, right? So like when I go upstairs and I'm on my own, that's my truest self obviously when the cameras aren't on or whatever. But it is, it's like this our work is our escapism. We get to be... especially when you're a presenter, you are, you know, you're high pitch and you're like, "Dah dah dah, what!?" So... I've seen it in a lot of my really close friends that work is their way of distracting themselves from their life. Just getting past today.
But do you know what? Maybe for me, I suppose, maybe I didn't learn that part because actually what you see on screen is actually me. Like I didn't learn how to either be this presenter or be a different form of myself. So I've always given just... it's just me.
But who's the person at home?
Is the person that had dealt with all this trauma and done stuff but had... like I hadn't. That's what I'm saying. It's like so on TV there's this expectation for you to be a certain way, right? Which is you've got to be at least you can't be sad. "Hi guys!" You've got to be a little bit up and you've got to be a little bit more interested than maybe you might be feeling. But when you go home on that night in particular, that's probably actually you. Because there's no camera, there's no one watching. That's when there's no distraction. And I think that sometimes we are who we are when we're least distracted. When there's no phone, there's no nothing. Go put us in a jungle and sit there for an hour, you'll find out who you are.
So like when you are at... when you were alone and when you are alone and when there is no distraction, who are you now? Can I ask, are you in a relationship? Because this is quite...
No. I'd say I'm dating.
Okay, you're dating. Okay. You're dating. Trying to figure out...
I didn't want to put a label on it! I'm like...
Okay, here we go. Here's the trauma. You don't want to... you don't want to commit entirely.
Yeah. Oh my god.
That's a toxic trait. So you you're dating, you're not in a relationship, but you're dating. Yeah. Okay. So I'm just trying to figure out if you're going home alone.
Yes, I'd say yes I am. Yeah. Okay.
What are you like now when you when you're in that space alone? And what's the journey been like of like being alone undistracted?
I love it.
Now?
Yeah.
Have you always loved it?
I know what those moments have given me in my life, but maybe because I was clouded by a lot of stuff going on, I was scared to be in those moments. Where actually I think about the best moments that I feel now are my most quiet moments. So I have this special place in Portugal and I always escape to it. Because why? I love nothing more than getting up in the morning and going on a hike in nature. And I feel I come alive. Like the thoughts that enter my brain about life or what I want to do or where I want to go, like it feels me with so much energy. So I love those moments. I love going away. I go alone... away a lot on my own. And people can't get their head around it. "Are you going on... on vacation on your own?" I'm like, "Yeah, because I need it, I know what it gives me." So like I would say those moments are love. I need it to recharge and refocus sometimes.
Were you ever the person that didn't want the party to end or didn't want work to end?
Yeah. You were that person? I had a suspicion you might have been. I suppose it's my... my Libra trait, those scales that I love this end, I love connection, I love people, the energy that it gives me. And then I also love the other side of it—I need to be alone sometimes. Like not speak, not have the conversation, just literally be in my own thoughts.
I say this because the friends that I've got closest to me that struggle the most with unaddressed issues were always the ones that never... so say we're on a night out with a couple of drinks, one or two, I'm like, "Right, I'm done." They would always want to continue. And it was this interesting observation that... and people listening will know this friend. They do not want people to go home. They do not want the... you know, they want to have one more drink. And then they have, I think someone's referred to it before as like the fear either upon so... sobering up or having to go home alone at the end of the night. And I sat here with a with a guy that kind of explained that to me, but I was just curious if that was ever you at all.
It's not the that I would want to keep... I love nothing more than seeing people have a good time. That in those moments, I often forget that I need to have a good time. Like I'm trying to make everyone have a good time. "Do you need a drink? I'm going to go get you a drink. Let's go out for food, let's do this." I'm planning your biggest thing, and I've never planned anything to celebrate my own stuff. Because that's what I love seeing in other people. So it's not a fear of like, "I want you to keep staying out or keep giving you a drink," it's just I'm loving seeing you have a great time and that makes me so happy.
The trolling stuff. There's no... there's nothing more toxic than football Twitter. It's like the cesspool of like negativity and anonymity and everyone's display picture is some footballer from their favorite club and they just say whatever. People will just say whatever. I just don't post on Twitter anymore. I'm kind of the same. What happens on my Twitter, if you look at it, it's just the podcast clip goes out and that's it. Because you can't... I don't want to be baited into some shit. But in your job, it's almost part of the job to be on Twitter and to have a voice and to be commenting... I see it with the pundits like Gary and Jake Humphreys and all they... it's part of the job to kind of...
I would say it's part of the job for them more, but I would say to the extent that what I've gone through with it is maybe they haven't experienced that level. And I think I remember Jake Humphreys saying as well, like he hasn't, or he couldn't believe the stuff that was coming my way. And you wouldn't until you're going through it or actually see it. Like and I suppose I hid it for so long. Like I tried to hide it for so long because I was scared of being seen as being weak, not strong enough to deal with it all.
Did you have anxiety?
Yes, of the fear of what might happen to me to that extent. Like because the abuse then would turn into death threats also. To the fact is that I am going home alone. You know, what happens there? Like with seeing in the past of, you know, some presenters what's happened. Stalking, all of that stuff. So all of that anxiety goes through my head. Like I want to just be safe. Like I'm just going to work.
Did you have stalkers?
I wouldn't say stalkers, no. But in terms of the death threats and everything, that's when... and then I suppose that's when I don't tell my mom, don't tell anyone. So actually then I'm dealing with all of this on my own. It's a lot.
That day, so the day after the you're crying on your bed, you don't know why you're crying, uncontrollable. And you said the next morning you Googled "therapy."
Therapy, yeah. I laugh because people when people had spoken to therapy or had conversations about it in the past, like straight away I would screw up my face and be like, "Well, no one can tell me about myself, I know myself. Like what they going to do? They don't know about my life." Like that would be the attitude for me for therapy until that day where I Googled it. One, I didn't even know what to look for. All this long list came up of all these different therapies. I'm like, "What do I need? I just need to talk to somebody." And then yeah, then ended up Googling some place that was close to where I live. Went there, and it was everything that I thought therapy would be—that feeling of someone sitting there and just saying yes and no to me. And I was like, "No, this is not going to work for me. Like I'm that person, I need someone to be brutally honest with me. Like the saying yes or no is not going to... it's not what I need to hear."
Were you scared when you went for that first therapy session? Like you've Googled a place close to you, you haven't had a recommendation. Walking up to someone's... knocking on to a stranger's door and being like, "Are you ready?"
Yeah! Oh my god, it's so uncomfortable. So uncomfortable. And then went home, the same thing. "Is this not going to work? Am I going to stay in this dark place? Get out some wine, let's drink, let's numb it all." That experience didn't happen. But then actually then something in my brain was like, "No." And then something clicked that I'd heard about this place, Sporting Chance. Actually, I need to reach out to them, see if these people can help me. And then straight away within a day, someone had come back to me saying, "We've found this guy, go and see him." And the moment, Stephen, I walked into the room with him, I knew he was the guy. He was the person.
How did you know?
How he spoke to me. It was no bullshit. His character... and you know what? I almost felt strange is that I'd had this relationship, strange relationship with men my whole life. But then I actually tend to gravitate back to that kind of form. Like and here he was, this big man telling me and making me see myself in a way, pushing me to see myself in a way that maybe I'd been scared to before. And not allowing me to just be like, "Yeah, I don't... nah, I don't want to talk about that. No, yeah, that's okay." And just seeing me and knowing it's not okay.
This was three years ago, almost? Two and a half, three years ago.
He made me start seeing that some of it isn't my responsibility. The guilt that I'm carrying my whole life, the heaviness. Making me see it in all a different way, making me see myself and learn about myself in a different way. Why I've done things the way that I have. To understand the patterns. To understand my patterns when I need help. And that it's okay to ask for help. It's not weak; it's not a weakness. Even we talk about like the heavy stuff, but even it's the nice stuff—wanting someone to say, "No, I'm going to pay for this" instead of me. Like I always... I'm the first to try and pay for everyone. Because I just want everyone to be happy, you know? Like, "Oh, I've treated you to a meal, like it's all good." Sometimes that awkward feeling, don't like it. But actually, no, just being like, "Okay, yeah, thank you. I appreciate that you're going to buy me dinner tonight." You know, it's okay, learning that.
Why was that a struggle?
Because you just kind of... I just... one, I just hate awkwardness. Or like now I've found myself that I can pay my bills and I've, you know, earned some more, that I can take care of people also. So I'm trying to take care of you where actually I'm not earning that money when we're talking about men's football or women's football—even in TV now, like I'm earning a salary. So actually, what am I doing? I'm trying to pay for everyone. Like I'm not actually... I'm not made of money. But it's just that feeling that I can, like I can treat you like it's good.
And I guess if you spend your life like trying to help everybody else and make everyone else happy, it's coming at the cost of something. Coming at the cost of your own happiness often, and that is difficult. You're what, you're two and a half years on now. When you reflect back on, you know, that... the person you were at 18 years old or in your early, you know, years playing for Arsenal and England, if you could go back and just have a chat with her, and she would believe every word you said, what would you say to her?
That you're going to be alright. That you're going to be alright. But at the same time, I almost wouldn't change any of it. Because I feel like I've been through so much that has taught me so much. And I'm so grateful for the lessons. So ultimately, I'd tell her that she's going to be alright, but you're going to go through some stuff. But it's going to make you even stronger, but in a different way.
Why would she need to hear those words about "you're going to be alright"? Because those aren't the words that most people would say to their younger self. Why would young 18-year-old Alex need to hear those words?
Because I suppose it was always just a feeling of fear and worry. So even though things might be going okay in your football career or you know, you've finally earned some money to pay for something, there's always just... you're living in a worry all the time. So it's able instead of just rushing onto the next or thinking "what next," be more present in that moment. You're going to be okay. So just take it in. I think there's a lot I've not taken in.
Yeah, how do you feel about your your career in terms of what you've achieved? Everyone looking at you must think, "Alex has unbelievable success, she's smashed everything, she must be just over the moon."
I find it hard, as suppose a lot of people do, right? To hear the good stuff. Like, yeah, like I've done alright. Like from one career, made it into this career. But I suppose I'm scared to always just sit there because it can be taken away. It can end. So I'm always thinking "No, I need to be better." My next show, I need to study my lines, I can't mess up, I need to be better. So there's always that of "I'm letting someone down." So I don't think I've ever sat and taken it all in, what... what have I done? Like great, like I've managed to play for England and now what, I sit on TV and have a conversation? I suppose I don't take it in. When people now come up to me in the street, I I'm starting to understand more, I would say. I didn't understand before, but now I'm starting to understand.
Do you feel like you're a success?
§02Transcript — part 2
It depends, how do you define success? What does success look like?
You get to define that. That's the great thing. Are you a success in your own eyes?
Yes. Not because of my work or that stuff. It goes back to your question—that, you know what, I've done okay. From the kid on that council estate that only had the concrete football cage, like you've managed to do something. When a lot of people, kids from those areas, they have an expectation that you're not amount... you're not supposed to amount to much. So in my eyes, I've been a success for those reasons.
Are you happy?
Yeah. I'm still learning to be more happy, to be honest. I think I've always been kind of happy-go-lucky person. Like I feed off positivity, want to hear the good things. If you've got an energy sapper around you, like it drains me. I'm that sort of person, so I kind of navigate to the people that see life in a certain way and want to have certain conversations. And I'm starting to, yeah, look at that and be more happy. Celebrate something. Not big milestones, maybe just little things, you know? It doesn't always have to be the big things. But taking those moments and, yeah.
If your happiness was this list of ingredients and you looked at it and thought, well maybe there's one ingredient missing for the recipe to be perfectly balanced, what would that ingredient be?
I would say it's finally accepting love. I think I've always been scared. Like I said, like I've been on a journey, not been in relationships for a while for that reason. I knew that I had to do some... a lot of work on myself. Like I've had people come into my life that want to show me love, that want to give it, but I've always had those walls up, no. Where I think finally now I'm at a stage where I'm ready to let that in. And I think that's something that's been missing from my life.
And what do you want from the next chapter of your life? What is the... as you look forward and in 10 years from now we say, "Oh god, that was a successful chapter. What happened?"
To be, I'd say, be more present in the moment. Really is. Like it's weird because I don't ever look like five years or 10 years people's in terms of like my next job or anything. People are like, "Well, what show do you want to be presenting in five years?" I think I've always been... I'm quite spiritual, but I've never... like I might have these small goals, but I'm also open to that actually I might go right a bit and I might learn some lessons here to push me in that or open to that you might have an idea of that's my presenting goal, I need to be on that show, but actually because I'm on this path, it might take me a totally different way and I'm okay with that. Same like the football decision. You know, do I sign a two-year contract in my Arsenal career, or actually do I listen to how I'm feeling and it's taking me on a totally different path?
I wonder if there's a bit of a like the survival mindset in there where like it's just a... I hear this a lot: "I'm just trying to make sure I don't lose this shit, so do my best today." So thinking about the future seems like a waste of energy because I want to make sure that, you know, because because there's sometimes a fear in us of of going back. And I think people that have come from harder times understand this a little bit more. I think maybe if you'd come from a privileged place you wouldn't have ever had a fear of like, what happens if I lose this contract? Because you can just, you know, fall back on the safety net of your parents' mansion or whatever. But there's more of a like a fight in the moment I see, which ends up as you've described it, like deferring our happiness because we're just trying to get through today. We're not enjoying it, we're just trying to fucking hold on here, you know?
I'm scared of that, yeah, like a fear of like losing that contract. But I also have a fear of standing still. Like just being okay, like being... not just average. Like I always want to be better than I was yesterday.
But you must have dreams. Big dreams. No?
Yeah, like dreams of for me like owning a house in the area that I am now because I know I love that area. So it isn't dreams of like when I went into the TV career, like there's a select group of people that I'm like, "God, if I like get into that category, like I know I've done alright." Because that's how I view them, like top class. Same like in if we're talking football terms, when you're playing for England, you're the best right back, you know? Like I want to be in a category where I see those presenters that you know they are top class. Like so I suppose I keep working towards trying to be seen at that level. Which I think for me is hard because I don't know honestly if I'd be viewed like that.
Why?
Because I already have a perception around me that I have just been given a role. Right? That I'm ticking a box. So I think that perception now for a lot of people... that's always going to stay with me, no matter how hard I work or have worked to get to where I am. That's kind of a perception.
Makes you upset, doesn't it?
Yeah. Because like I've worked so hard. People can't... they see just sometimes the end process of it or they don't see the actual the whole process and what actually it's taken you to get to that. Which like I'm fine with, but the fact that like yeah you're not respected for the work that you're doing or have been done, that's hard for me.
When you say people think you're there because you're ticking a box, what box do they think you're ticking?
Female, black, a quota... Do you carry that? Yeah. It goes back to another thing that's heavy. It's been heavy, it continues to be every time a subject's brought up because maybe I've been that first to then break through. It's like I am that spokesperson or "we'll go to Alex, she needs to speak about this." So it's just it's just always there. Always. And it's like as if it's become my story. When I'm like, "No, there's a whole lot to me going on in my life, I'm not just being trolled!" But that's how now people would either just see me or all the abuse or yeah, it's just...
I didn't see you like that. I didn't even write down "trolling" on here; it was completely irrelevant to obviously who you are. So it's interesting that you're carrying that perception in your mind, but it didn't cross my mind today. I didn't even think we were going to talk about it today. I don't consider it to be part of your story. Thank you. Not even saying that to make you happy. I just didn't think it was... it's not... it's nothing to do with you, is it? It's actually someone else's problem in every sense of the word.
I suppose it's when you're getting phone calls every day about that or straight away that's constantly every... thing that you read online, it's that. There's this interesting thing when you represent an unrepresented community that it end... it ends up becoming like your personal brand. So like as you've said, "Oh we need to talk about black issues or women issues in football, so microphone over to..." and it... and it's that's on one hand the right thing to do because other people shouldn't really be speaking on these issues. But in another way, it's kind of the wrong thing to do because it pigeonholes you. It reduces your identity, as you've said, down to just like black woman. When you are so much more. Everyone else is allowed to be so much more. But people don't really think about that; they think they're being kind or thoughtful or considerate.
Do you know what? I suppose like in terms of there's parts that I find it hard because like I said before, I also understand my responsibility more with it. Where before it was just I was just finding a job, I'm just sitting on a sofa having a conversation, "Oh this is great." Actually what I didn't understand me sitting on a BBC One show so for a flagship program for BBC is actually doing for a lot of people. I didn't understand that until maybe there was one time that I'm riding back through East London—it was actually during the pandemic—I'd rode from North London to East London to see my mom. And riding home there was two black women on a park bench and they were shouting at me, Stephen! And I was like, "What's going on here? What's going on?" and they were like...
Like family.
Yeah! Basically pure joy that they'd seen me and they just told me, "Keep going." Nothing more. And I was like, wow, it touched me. Yeah, because of all the stuff you see online. Like those two people on that park bench, I understood what I'm doing.
What’s your relationship like these days with your father?
Don't speak to him.
When’s the last time you spoke to him?
2019. And it wasn't a conversation, it was a text message. The last time I'd actually spoken to him was my Nan's funeral in 2017. I remember standing on the balcony in Wapping. He'd had some drink, but him telling me that he knows he's not been the person that he should have been and he's carried a lot of regrets and he's going to change. And I was already so distraught because my Nan was one of the closest people in my life. But I remember just feeling like I don't care. If you do, then great. I'd spent my whole life sending him Christmas presents, birthday presents, ringing him just to check in because I had this guilt that he would be lonely or... and then from that moment I was like, "Nah, I'm done. Like I didn't hear from him, so I'm not going to chase him." Like once again, it was just the... it's just all talk. Like I'm over it.
And then I was doing *Strictly* in 2019 and I got to Blackpool. *Strictly* was like this bubble of happiness that at a stage in my... I just needed it and it gave me that, *Strictly* did. And then I remember I got to Blackpool and I was on the train on the way up sitting next to Michelle Visage, who's this character who I'd never thought I'd have someone in my life like her and here I am opposite end, she's from New York but we just had this connection. She was my person on *Strictly*. And she saw my phone flash and she's like, "What the heck? What's that?" She must have seen something in my face. And it was a message from my dad asking for tickets to come to Blackpool. Hadn't heard from him the 10 weeks I was on the show and he asked for tickets. Not for him, though—for two of his friends where he lives.
And you know what? I'd seen the Elton John film and I remember crying in the movie theater because there was a part in that that I was like, "Jeez, that's how I feel." There was a part... Elton John, he was just trying to connect with his dad the whole time. And then there was one point where the dad reached out to him and was like, "Come around for dinner" or something. And when he turned up, it was literally just for him to sign autographs. So there was no love or he didn't really want him to be it was just to sign autographs for the kids he had around the house. And that's how I felt in that moment. Like you didn't care about me or ask how I was, all you want is *Strictly* tickets for your mates. But I remember I had the courage to finally write back to him, "That's wrong." And I think it must have touched him in a way because I'd never done that. Like if I was mad or felt angry about anything, I would never tell my dad because I always still had that fear. And so he must have known. And then straight away he texts back apologizing that "Oh no, it was just his way to try and connect with me to ask for tickets and they were really for him." And I was just like, "This is just bullshit." And then so I've not spoken to him since. But I'm going to have to. And I want to speak to him.
You're not finished talking.
No. It's on one hand like I've done this book to free my mom, on the other hand, I'm scared that it could ruin my dad's life. And I don't want that. So I need to pluck up some courage because, yeah, I need to tell him that I've wrote about stuff that's not going to be comfortable for him. We sit here on the 9th of September; the book comes out in 10 days from now, on the 19th of September.
Are you thinking of speaking to him before the publication or after the publication?
No, before. I think it'd be very wrong if it's just out there and I hadn't spoken to him. Like I've not wrote the book... I didn't write it to destroy his life or make him seem like this person. And I truly hope he's not that person anymore. Like people change. So I don't want him to be judged on that in the past. Like I want people to take him for who he is now. So I want him to understand that I've not wrote it from a place of being angry with him or that ultimately it's not about him. It's about wanting my mom to break free of it all.
It's a difficult conversation to have. And I've got to be honest, there's a part of me that thinks: you don't owe him that. This is just my... look, it's none of my business, but there's a part of me that thinks you just you don't owe him that. As you've said, it's your story. And it'll impact people you love, of course, and then I think you have the right to speak on your own experiences regardless of how that might make someone feel who has played that kind of role in your life. I just don't know, you know, so but that that was what I was thinking.
I think, yeah, that's gone back and forth in my mind. Like I don't need to, right? He's not been there in my life. I would say you sitting there having this conversation with me, you know me better than my dad. Like he doesn't know anything about me. Can't describe me as a person, doesn't really know what's going on in my life, doesn't know. So yeah, I don't owe him that. But it's, I don't know, something in me is telling me it's the right thing to do for him. Like he's my dad, I love him.
Did you ever understand the cycle that he's in that made him the way he is?
No. And I think that's where I always think that something... like he must feel the guilt and the sadness, you know? And that's why I've always... there's that good person in there. Like something's gone on that's made him feel like this or I don't know if it's me just making up a story in my head. But I feel like I always saw that from a kid. Like everyone has good in them, you know? I'm still trying to pluck up the courage. It's coming around soon, I've got to do it. I see, yeah... I will do it, I will do it.
You finish this book by writing a letter to your mother.
Yeah. Yeah. That was hard in the audiobook, I'm not going to lie. I spent that whole chapter crying.
Why did you want to end the book in that way?
Because I hope the book shows her that I am me because of her. That she's an incredible woman, everything that she's done has allowed me to be in the position that I am. And for her to understand that she doesn't have to be the strong one anymore. Like I'll do everything to look after her and just to enjoy her life. Like she still has this life. You don't need to be trapped by the past anymore; she's still trapped by it. That yes, like me taking her out for dinner or theater to show like to try and give her that happiness, like I can only do so much. Like I'm hoping that letter sets her free. That's why.
It's beautiful what you write about her. And it was actually difficult to read it because it's so beautiful and it's so... it comes from such an authentic place. So I can't imagine what it's like having to say it in a booth into a microphone when you're doing the audiobook. I can't imagine. Even reading the words were just so... you could feel that the words were so intentional. Every word you selected in that letter is so... so intentional. So it's moving for someone that, you know, has never met your mother. But what an amazing daughter she has raised.
Thank you. Do you know, it does actually... it does actually make me smile, going back to one of your questions about, I don't know, being proud or... like even seeing you just have that book. Like, that's my book. Like, I wrote my own book. Like I didn't even go to school. Like education, it was a struggle. Yeah, dyslexic, the speech... like they're all there, all the problems in my life. But I actually just sat down on my laptop and wrote that book. And like you just... like you've got it there. Like it, I don't know, it still doesn't feel real. But I'm just like, "Yeah, I did that."
You did that.
I did that.
Alex, we do have a closing tradition on this podcast, which is where the last guest leaves a question for the next guest and they don't know who they're writing it for. You'll also be asked to do the same, which is leave a question for the next guest and again you won't know who that guest is. But—and I don't get to read it until the very end of the podcast—so, oh okay, it's very... very easy to read.
What is your deepest fear?
Oh, that's a good one. At the very core of you, what is your deepest fear? I think my deepest fear is my mom leaving this world and not experiencing happiness. That is the fear.
It makes sense because you've explained it. You've explained it that you've seen this kind of numbness in your mom to the world and you're... it feels like you've been fighting to try and solve that. And as you've said, this book is part of the solution in your eyes to liberate her from that.
Just want her to be happy. I want her to smile more. Take in moments and just not think something's going to happen. Just for her to have some happiness.
Do you think she has to go and walk some of the same steps that you've walked in terms of therapy and going back to do that?
Yeah. Yeah. I don't know how hard that's going to be for her, because you're going to bring up the rawness, the stuff that she's tried to push to the side. But ultimately, I know it can free her. But she has to have a willingness. Hopefully. I think that's... there's a power in there, isn't there? I think this is what I hope when I keep saying about I hope the book sets her free. Because I know there's so many people that have gone through the same stuff as my mom. And I think maybe if she understands that and sees that that they're free or they've come through things, that maybe she can start to be on that journey. So there's a... there's a huge fear to the answer to the question, but ultimately I look forward, and when I look forward, I see there's a light. And I feel that's where I smile because I'm just hoping and I pray that's where she's getting, that's where she gets to.
Alex, thank you.
Thank you for having me.
Thank you. It's been an absolute pleasure. You're a wonderful person and I know this is just the start of our relationship, so yeah. Thank you.
Thank you, Stephen. Oh, someone get me a tissue!