Farrah Fawcett was a name and face (and body) that graced the homes of millions in her prime. Girls wanted to be like her, imitate her hairstyle; boys wanted her… or at least a poster of her. It’s no surprise that her battle with cancer has captivated so many.

More than 9 million people watched “Farrah’s Story” on May 15. What is it about seeing this former pop culture idol in this truly pathetic condition for so many Americans?

For women especially there is something particularly moving about Farrah’s story. Seeing a seemingly perfect woman transform into a frail, sickly shadow of her former self humanizes the “angel” and makes her the friend, relative, and co-worker we walked through tough times with. She’s no longer an idol; she’s just like us. If we were to be completely honest, that is a major factor in the way we view any celebrity facing the harsh realities with which we, our family members, and our friends struggle throughout our lives. There’s something strangely comforting, in a “misery loves company” way, about seeing celebrities and public figures fight the kind of fights we see in our not-so-glamorous lives. It’s a morbid way of leveling the playing field.

The disconnect goes both ways and was on display in “Farrah’s Story”. The New York Post‘s Maureen Callahan made a poignant observation about the well-intentioned Farrah:

“Fawcett herself, as she has throughout her career, comes off as extremely likeable and well-intentioned, if — like most celebrities of her era — a bit unhooked from the actual world. She rails against the lack of funding for research into cancers such as hers, and bemoans the lack of experimental treatments in the US. Yet it does not register with her that her wealth and fame, which afford her private jets to Germany and an international team of doctors, are unavailable to the vast majority of cancer sufferers, and that, if not for her station in life, she would not have had extra time.”

Though perhaps working with a blind spot, Farrah nevertheless revealed her desire to make a difference even when she could barely speak. While some may debate the use of the reality TV format, there’s no debate that this woman, who could easily have stayed in hiding in the process, has remained on a mission with a passion to somehow let her story help others. It’s as though she had Andrew Young in mind, “It is a blessing to die for a cause, because you can so easily die for nothing.” Time will tell whether televising her misery at the cost of her dignity will make a difference. But there’s no doubt that she has been determined throughout.

As she suffers through her final days, her fortune and her fame don’t register with us. She is a woman in agony. She took her story to television because she believes it matters, and because she could. To be honest, I was not one of those 9 million who watched the program that Friday night. For me, just seeing the preview of the program was a little too close to home. I watched my father wither away from both cancer and chemotherapy. Because he passed away only two years ago, I couldn’t even watch the preview, much less the program itself. I can relate to the loss of the strength, joy, and hope that used to characterize someone now simply counting the days to end the pain. Perhaps it’s fitting that the woman who started her best days in our homes is saying goodbye to us back in our homes.

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(Original photo by adrisbow, used under Creative Commons license.)