Brooklyn Beckham is hardly the most obvious candidate for anyone’s sympathy. Born into one of the world’s wealthiest and most well-connected families, married to a beautiful actress from an even more affluent family, and with the opportunity to try his hand at literally any profession he likes, the 26-year-old has, for all intents and purposes, lived the most gilded life possible.

And yet, when I read the now-viral statement in which Brooklyn eviscerates his “controlling” family, I found myself feeling rather sorry for the guy. Not because I think he’s had a particularly rough ride. I don’t even think it was a particularly good takedown, not least because it felt a little unfairly aimed at his mother. I just feel sad for him, because once you take away all of the money, fame, and power, it’s fundamentally a story about a young, slightly directionless man becoming estranged from his family unit – a move that will almost certainly only hurt and isolate him in the long run.

Let’s backtrack a little. On Monday evening, Brooklyn posted a story on Instagram that had been months in the making; one that finally addressed the speculation surrounding his fractious relationship with his family. “I have been silent for years and made every effort to keep these matters private,” Brooklyn told his 16 million followers in a written statement. “I do not want to reconcile with my family. I’m not being controlled, I’m standing up for myself for the first time in my life.”

Most of Brooklyn’s statement takes aim at his mother, Victoria (Getty)

He went on to make a series of brutal allegations against his family, accusing them of spreading “countless lies in the media”, as well as attempting to derail his wedding to Nicola Peltz. Most memorably, Beckham accused his mother of “hijacking” their first dance at his wedding, claiming that when he was called to the stage, “my mum was waiting to dance with me” instead of his wife and “danced very inappropriately on me in front of everyone”.

While I don’t doubt recollections will differ in the Beckham household – which I am sure is planning its response as I write – naturally, all of this has been a gift to the internet. But despite the guffawing spawned by the thousand viral memes (I see you, Lily Allen), this whole affair also points to a much bleaker truth.

The tone of Brooklyn’s statement – raw, aggravated, and clearly written without any kind of PR approval – illustrates the depth of this family wound. It reads as if he sat down one evening after a few overpriced martinis, possibly served by a personal butler, furiously typed some thoughts into his Notes app, and thought, “Yeah, f*** it.”

While no family should ever be turned into the butt of the internet’s joke, the reason this story is generating so much glee is because we’ve had Brand Beckham shoved down our throats for decades. And if we feel like that, imagine how Brooklyn feels. This has been his entire existence since he was born.

As his statement put it: “My family values public promotion and endorsements above all else. Brand Beckham comes first. Family ‘love’ is decided by how much you post on social media, or how quickly you drop everything to show up and pose for a family photo op…” We’ll never know how true or false that claim is. Either way, few can deny that Brooklyn has been forced to maintain a certain facade by dint of who his parents are.

What if Brooklyn didn’t want to be famous? Was he ever given that choice? Growing up with paparazzi and media attention is one thing when it revolves around your parents. But if they’re not actively protecting you from that limelight – and instead pushing you into it to uphold their own image – is it any wonder you might one day want to make choices of your own?

From his point of view, he has grown up being traded like a commodity – and if his claims are true that his parents tried to get him to sign over the rights to his name, you can understand his resentment.

For the Beckhams, who arguably know their worth, it has always been about finding new ways to maximise the family’s exposure and project a carefully constructed brand image – whether through meticulously curated Netflix documentaries, fashion collaborations, or those endless photographs of the family supporting Victoria from the front row of her fashion shows.

It’s clear that being part of Brand Beckham has put Brooklyn under immense pressure. I think he is aware of his privilege and has tried – and failed – to find purpose through various ventures, such as cooking and photography, all of which have turned him into a laughing stock. He has been trapped in a lose-lose situation: whatever he succeeded at would be attributed to his parents’ name, while doing nothing would see him branded a lazy, over-privileged brat.

The family pictured at Netflix’s ‘Beckham’ UK Premiere (Gareth Cattermole/Getty)

Perhaps it wasn’t until his relationship with Nicola that he truly felt able to be himself, or at least, found a sense of belonging. If so, it makes sense that he would prioritise that relationship above all else. In other words, maybe Nicola is the person who has helped him feel just a little less lost.

But Brooklyn is still only 26. And twenty-somethings need support networks outside of their romantic relationships. Celebrity relationships, after all, have a famously short shelf life – and if they were to split up, who would show up for him? Even with his new, chosen family, he seems very alone.

Now that he has taken a scorched-earth approach to his birth family, I’m not so sure there will ever be a way back. Living a life totally siloed from your parents and siblings will inevitably lead to anger and other issues, which I suspect will only become more complicated when Brooklyn has children of his own.

So yes, I feel sorry for Brooklyn. Because children should be allowed to grow up away from the cameras, and their family traumas should never become sport for social media, where people are encouraged to take sides. Whether you’re Team Brooklyn or Team Beckham, none of this is normal – nor does it set a healthy precedent for making informed choices in adult life.

You could argue that, in posting his statement on social media while pleading for peace and privacy, Brooklyn scored an own goal and became part of his own problem. But how sad it is that he felt this was the only way to communicate? He posted that statement because it is the only thing that makes sense within the culture he was raised in – one where everything is available for public consumption, even family trauma.

Honestly, I feel sorry for all of them. There are no winners in this sorry tale – apart from the crisis comms teams, perhaps, who will be making hay while the Beckham son shines.