Mel C reveals real reason for Spice Girls split

Melanie Chisholm, also known as Mel C or ‘Sporty Spice’, reveals what life was really like as part of the Spice Girls, and how one incident at the start of their careers nearly tore them apart.

Her journey from small-town teen to one-fifth of the world’s most popular girl band may read like a fairy tale, but behind the stadium tours and glitzy afterparties, Melanie Chisholm – better known as Mel C or “Sporty Spice”– was grappling with frosty group politics and dwindling mental health. In this exclusive extract from her upcoming memoir Who I Am, Chisholm reveals what life was really like during the early days of the Spice Girls – and how it almost destroyed her.

The BRIT [Awards] ’96 was a line in the sand. It was the last point where things were still just about normal, yet we all knew that we were on the edge of something special.

We had complete confidence that something huge was about to happen, although we had no idea how big, how exciting, or how terrifying it would be.

We were signed to Virgin [Records], we had a bit of cash in our pockets, and some amazing songs under our belt.

That year at the BRITs, we all started to imagine how next year, or the year after, might look. Maybe we’d be on that stage next time, who knows. No big deal; I didn’t think anything more of it.

It was one of those when-your-head-hits-the-pillow-you’re-out-cold moments, and I woke up early the next day a bit hungover.

Desperate for a glass of water, I headed to the kitchen and realised Mel B [Melanie Brown] and Geri [Halliwell] were already up. I could hear them talking in the living room.

As I stood at the living room door, I knew something was going on. Mel B had a face like thunder and Geri was looking equally stern.

“What’s wrong, what’s happened?” I asked, wondering if we’d had bad news.

“We need to talk to you, Melanie,” said Geri pompously, shuffling about on the sofa to make herself look taller.

“We need to talk about last night and what happened, especially between you and Victoria [Beckham].”

“Me and Victoria? What [are] you on about? What happened?”

“To be honest, I’m disgusted with the way you spoke to her,” said Mel B, as Geri nodded along in agreement.

I looked from one to the other, waiting for them to break into laughter and say they were only messing. They didn’t.

Melanie Chisholm: “As I stood at the living room door, I knew something was going on” Picture: Matt Holyoak

“Honestly, I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I insisted, racking my brains through the fog of last night’s booze.

“The way you spoke to her was just disgusting. I can’t even look at you right now,” one of them – I can’t remember who – continued.

I was shocked. I blinked back tears.

“Is this because I told her to f*ck off? Is that literally it?” I asked, flabbergasted – it had been a flicker in the night, a tiny second that I had to dredge back up from the furthest recesses of my mind.

“The way you spoke to Victoria, it’s just not on,” said Mel B. “We’re supposed to be a band, a family, a sisterhood.”

I don’t know if there’s ever been anything before, or since, that has shocked me more.

The way the other girls spoke to me (how we all spoke to each other, really, when we’d had a couple of drinks and were being a bit rowdy) was a million times worse than what I’d said under my breath, drunk, to Victoria.

They continued to tell me off as I tried to take in the words, confused about what the real problem was. Maybe my behaviour was worse than I’d remembered, but surely I’d have had some recollection?

I tuned back in when they told me I could expect a call from [our manager] Simon [Fuller] any minute.

“This can’t happen again, Melanie,” Simon told me as I fought back more tears on the phone a few minutes later.

“If it does, you’ll be out. This band must be built on trust and respect and if you’re not delivering that, it puts the whole group at risk. Do you understand?”

An awful lot changed that day. For one, I was devastated because I saw that this dream I’d had since I was a kid could be taken from me in the blink of an eye. For something I barely remembered doing.

I became hyper-aware that there must be no outbursts, no arguments, no fighting back.

The girl who stood up to the bullies at school, that girl started to fade into the background. She disappeared into thin air following that night at the BRITs.

The Spice Girls at the Billboard Music Awards. Picture: © Alamy

I might have been the quietest of the girls, but I would stand up for myself when push came to shove, and I was confident when it came to performing.

I knew I was one of the strongest dancers and singers. I felt totally comfortable and at ease in the studio and onstage.

Maybe some of the others didn’t like that. Perhaps there was an element of keeping me in my place. It was subtle at first, but soon I was being told what to say, or rather what not to say.

“Better yet, Melanie,” I was told, “maybe don’t speak at all.”

On top of that, Simon Fuller’s management style appeared to be divide and rule. He seemed to communicate different rules to different people. And it began to widen the cracks that were starting to appear.

A circle of isolation formed around me, and a coldness spread inside me. I started to consciously make myself smaller. Fly under the radar. Avoid detection.

I thought, if I don’t speak, I won’t get in trouble. If I don’t get in trouble, I won’t risk losing the thing that means the most to me: the band. Don’t fight, don’t argue, don’t stand up or stand out.

This small yet devastating event crystallised within me this need for control. I was about to lose the thing that meant the most to me. I wouldn’t jeopardise this ever again.

I was seized by a gripping, overwhelming need to rule everything in my power: my weight, what I said, what I drank, how I behaved. I quickly learnt to stay quiet and not rock the boat. I became very hard on myself.

The BRITs ’96 is such a pivotal moment in my personal psyche, my emotional journey, my wellbeing, because from that moment, I couldn’t let go.

I had to control, I had to be controlled. I couldn’t mess anything up.

I turned into a robot. A robot who would stop at nothing to deliver excellence and embody perfection. A robot who no longer expressed emotions, thoughts or ideas.

I just went along with it – all of it, pretty much – and focused solely on making myself the best dancer, singer, performer and pop star that I could possibly be.

I returned to that 11-year-old girl obsessively practising choreography in my mum’s living room, shutting out everyone and everything in my determination to succeed.

If the girls were going to be hard on me, then I’d be harder on myself than they could ever dream of. I would be the best I could possibly be in every way. It would nearly kill me.

Melanie C’s book extract features exclusively in this Sunday’s Stellar. Picture: Daniel Nadel for Stellar.

This is an edited extract from Who I Am: My Story by Melanie C (Welbeck, $32.99), out this Tuesday.

Originally published as Mel C reveals real reason for Spice Girls split