I didn’t know Jayden Adams.
I could tell you nothing about his match statistics or anything relating to his football career.
But when the news of his death broke a week ago, I was saddened by it, for the simple reason that the death of a young person who is at his prime is always sad.
But it was when I followed up on what had allegedly happened to him that the sadness evolved into something deeper — a pain and sorrow that I am yet to process.
It does not come from being familiar with him, but from the realisation that possibly a 25-year-old arrived at a point where taking his life was more bearable than living.
Frequent readers of my column know I am a huge proponent of the right to die.
I have made arguments in favour of the legalisation of assisted suicide and have consistently stated that the right to die is the ultimate measure of bodily autonomy and should not be reduced to a moral or religious issue.
But something about Jayden’s death [which his family have not confirmed of denied was by suicide, while police are conducting an inquest] gave me pause.
I have a younger brother, Lumumba, who just turned 23 in June.
I have raised him since we lost our single mother to cancer in 2017, and have watched him navigate different stages in his life.
Even now, as the law might deem him an adult, and I have created conditions for his growing independence, I still see him as a child.
This is not only because he is my dependent and I remain responsible for him as he navigates university, but because he is yet to fully develop intellectually and emotionally.
I know, from the experience of raising a young man, that even at the age of 23, which is only two years younger than the age that Jayden died, a young man has not fully developed their reasoning.
It is not a personal weakness, but a function of biology.
The human brain continues to grow and reorganise well into adulthood, with the prefrontal cortex — the area responsible for planning and impulse control — typically reaching maturity in the mid-20s.
However, recent extensive neuroscience research suggests that overarching structural brain architecture does not completely stabilise until the early 30s.
And so, in his early 20s, a young man’s brain has not fully learnt impulse control.
A lack of impulse control expresses itself in the inability to pause, think of consequences, and stop oneself from engaging in harmful or disruptive behaviours.
It often involves building internal tension, acting on an urge for immediate gratification, and feeling subsequent regret.
Jayden’s suicide, arising from an argument with his romantic partner, per reports and statements from his family, is a clear indication of this limited impulse control.
Older people know that relationships are difficult.
We have been betrayed, angered and heartbroken enough to have developed the ability to navigate such circumstances.
We have also experienced difficulties in life — loss, financial challenges, health problems, career stagnation, and so on — that age and maturity have equipped us with handling.
We know that tough times may endure, but they do eventually end.
This is not something a young person can easily comprehend, because their life experiences and cognitive abilities have not yet fully processed it.
Jayden’s death has made me rethink my position on the right to die — a right I initially argued should be universally applied.
And yet, as I sit here now thinking about him, I cannot help but question the validity of my logic.
With the understanding of the science of neurological development, I cannot reasonably stand on the argument that everyone should have the right to die.
I do not want my own brother to have the right to die because he is not fully developed enough to make this decision with the rationality it demands.
Jayden was not fully developed enough to have that right.
Society often treats talented and successful young people as mature.
We see someone like Jayden and expect them to have life figured out.
It is especially the case when such young people are the breadwinners in families — and this too is something I know on a deeply personal level.
But young people, even successful ones, even the ones who hold down jobs and live on their own, still require psychological, emotional, social and mental support.
They still require us to check up on them, guide them, and be patient with them as they navigate the vicissitudes of life.
We owe it to them, so that they don’t make the decision to die so easily.
Follow The Herald WhatsApp channel today and stay connected to the stories shaping our world.
The Herald
