No one’s sure exactly what’s up with the Beckhams. So why does everyone think the women are to blame?

I don’t know what happened behind closed doors in the Beckham family. None of us do. And honestly, I don’t care enough about the details to speculate.

But I did know exactly what would happen next.

The moment Brooklyn’s statement about his parents came out - a six page Instagram post in which the eldest son lambasted his mum and dad’s controlling behaviour - I knew that within hours one or both of the women in this story would be dragged. And I wasn’t wrong.

It took less than a day for social media to fill with parody videos mocking Victoria Beckham’s dancing. Comments calling her a “bitch”, a “mean girl”, “controlling”, “embarrassing”. At the same time, Nicola Peltz was instantly cast as the puppet-master – the wife behind the statement, the villain pulling the strings.

Once again, the men in the story, including the man who posted on his own social media account the statement that started the whole thing, faded into the background while the women took the hits.

We’ve seen this pattern so many times it should be impossible to miss by now. Meghan Markle. Amber Heard. Monica Lewinsky. Britney Spears. Angelina Jolie. And countless others. Different stories, same outcome: when there’s drama, women become the punchbag. Women’s behaviour is moralised. Men’s behaviour is explained.

And before anyone says it – no, this isn’t about defending Victoria or Nicola. I don’t know them. Everything Brooklyn said in his statement could be completely true. That’s not the point.

The point is how fast we turn on women. How easily we mock them. How much joy people seem to take in watching women fall. And also: how much damage it causes for all of us.

With Amber Heard, people felt entitled to their cruelty because they didn’t believe her. As if not believing women is anything new.

But here’s what gets lost in that argument: the public didn’t just reject her story – they mocked her testimony about violence. They turned alleged sexual and domestic abuse into memes, jokes, TikTok sounds, and parody clips. And they went to town with it. 

And what they perhaps didn’t realise is that that mockery didn’t stay contained to Amber Heard as a person. It spilled out. It gave permission. Permission to laugh at survivors. Permission to treat accusations of violence as entertainment.

Whether Amber Heard was telling the truth or not is irrelevant. The cultural impact was much bigger than her individual case. It taught people that it’s acceptable, even fun, to ridicule women who speak about harm.

The same thing is happening here.

When people mock Victoria Beckham for being the evil mother-in-law, it doesn’t just land on her. It keeps that narrative alive for all of us. And when people justify it by saying “well, she’s done bad things in the past” or “I don’t like her anyway”, they miss the point entirely.

Because the standard isn’t applied equally. Men are rarely mocked with the same enthusiasm. Their behaviour is contextualised. Explained away. Softened. “Boys will be boys.” “He was manipulated.” “He didn’t mean it like that.”

And, somehow, a grown man with wealth, power and agency is still framed as passive while a woman nearby becomes the problem.

Why is it so easy to assume Brooklyn was pressured by his wife, rather than accepting that he’s an adult man making his own choices? Why isn’t David Beckham being picked apart with the same glee? Why do we always reach for the story where a woman is controlling, toxic, inappropriate, difficult?

Because tearing women down is familiar. It’s culturally sanctioned. And, for a lot of people, it’s strangely satisfying.

And here’s the part that really doesn’t sit right with me: when words like “inappropriate” are used to describe women – how they dance, how they speak, how emotional they are, how visible they are – it’s almost always about control.

You almost never hear that word used about men in the same way. Women are expected to behave “appropriately” according to standards we didn’t create. And when we laugh along, pile on, or share the jokes – even casually – we help reinforce a double standard that keeps all women in check.

Every time we excuse men and scrutinise women, we damage all of us. Even when the individual woman isn’t likeable. Even when the story is messy. Even when we think we’re “just joking”.

So no, this isn’t about picking sides in a family story none of us actually know. It’s about noticing how quickly women are blamed, ridiculed, and reduced – and asking ourselves why we’re so comfortable participating in that.

For me, that’s the part worth talking about. 

Tova Leigh’s book Good Girls Gossip: Find Your Female Power is published by Watkins Publishing, £18.99