As the former senior royals of the British monarchy continue to try and embed themselves in American culture, I cannot, as a Scottish immigrant in California, unsee the fundamental problems with Harry and Meghan’s endeavors.
When Meghan Markle and Prince Harry (or, as they seemingly like to be known in public, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex), announced their engagement in 2017, I clearly remember my mother’s reaction over the phone as I caught up with her whilst sitting in my apartment in New York. “Don’t they seem so in love?” She enthused. “Meghan seems so lovely. And she’s so educated! She has a career! She’s a full person in her own right.”
It was a moment that the British public, whether we care to admit it or not, was glad to see. How could we not have celebrated the upcoming marriage of a prince who had lived out his grief for his late mother, Princess Diana, so publicly? I stand firm in my argument that the vast majority of the British public were moved by Harry’s clear love for Meghan and hers for him. Thousands of people lined the streets to get a glimpse of the bride on their wedding day: Who can forget the cheers from outside the church when Harry said, “I do?”
The rest of Harry and Meghan’s story is largely known and, paradoxically, largely unknown. Despite a Netflix “documentary,” Meghan’s podcast, Harry’s memoir, and the Oprah interview, I’m not sure anyone really knows what happened – or why exactly – Harry and Meghan decided to not only leave Britain permanently, but proceed to (how do I put this?) demonize their British family and the British public.
Before you stop reading, please know I have tried to be fair on Harry and Meghan. Truly, I have.
I listened to Meghan during the Oprah interview in earnest. I felt huge compassion as she described her suicidal ideations. I sympathized with the cultural shock she felt not only as an immigrant in a new country, but in a new job where she had to operate in the most intense of family businesses. I listened to her podcast and empathized with the sexism she felt subjected to in various facets of her life. I watched her on Netflix and appreciated the deep sorrow and panic she must feel when reading racist and sexist – and sometimes genuinely threatening – media commentary. I did not, and do not, envy those experiences.
I listened to Harry. I felt heartbroken when he told Stephen Colbert that he was convinced his mother was “hiding” in the years after her death. I was sorry to learn, as I read his memoir, that he felt victimized in a toxic sibling relationship. I felt compassion as he reflected on the mental challenges of being, as he described, the Royal family’s “spare” (in the off chance that Prince William could not ascend the throne).
However, three years after Meghan and Harry departed Britain, my compassion has now dried up for the following reasons.
Firstly, Harry and Meghan seem incapable of presenting evidence for many of the accusations and gripes they make against the Royal family. Most notably in their interview with Oprah, they accused a member of their family of expressing “concerns and conversations” about how dark their son’s skin might be. It isn’t clear, because the couple refused to elaborate on the actual details of the conversation, who made those comments and what exactly was said. As a result, I regard these accusations birthed in bad faith. When I’m teaching college freshmen critical thinking (my “day job”), I harp on about the importance of creating debate in good faith: Listen, I tell them, if you’re going to make an accusation, give the alleged abuser not only the chance to respond, but be precise in your wording and stand fully in your argument. Own your words.
In my opinion, Harry and Meghan did not do this. They knew the Royal family are bound, to an extent, by protocol meaning that for them to respond publicly (which I assume is the game Harry and Meghan want them to play given that 50 million people watched the Oprah interview), would be highly unlikely.
Today, in 2023, Harry and Meghan’s accusations have been more or less extinguished by Harry himself who, while promoting his memoir during a television interview with journalist Tom Bradby, bluntly denied that the “concerns and conversations” expressed by the unknown Royal family member were racist.
Overall, Meghan and Harry made numerous untrue statements during the Oprah interview, as well as more accusations of familial neglect and abuse (too many to list here) without evidence to back up their claims. As a college instructor, I also find this unsettling. I try desperately to teach the importance of pairing one’s claims with concrete evidence. I am not convinced that Harry and Meghan have done so – at least not as I write this blog post in February 2023.
The constant “performances” by Meghan and Harry that are seemingly either charitable endeavors or brave stances on “today’s issues” are also beginning to irk me. Now, I know what you’re going to say: isn’t that what the Royal family does? Don’t they stand around cutting ribbons in public while the press takes photos? To that I would say, yes. That is what they do. But what I don’t like about Meghan and Harry’s version is the brash and often sickly sweet way in which they parade themselves and their relationship, sorry, their philanthropic passions, across the covers of Variety (remember the headline, “The Meghan Moment”?), the Spotify trailers, the appearance on Colbert, the “Freedom Flight” home video… and all the other home videos featured in the Netflix show.
On one hand Meghan and Harry claim to want to change the world, to spotlight the disempowered and underprivileged. On the other hand, they seem intensely committed to recounting their love story and making sure their voices are heard. Which is it folks? And how many damn times are we going to hear your story? What about the stories of everyday people fighting to survive? Isn’t that “your thing”, telling those stories? Surely Meghan and Harry must know that the more they talk about themselves, the less chance the underprivileged will be heard.
Finally, Meghan and Harry’s utter disdain for Britain is something that never ceases to amaze me. As a country with a long and torrid history, we are well aware that we are not without deep flaws. (If one is able to show a country without any sort of history partially comprised of violence and oppression, I applaud you.)
But like all nations, Britain has so much to offer. It is rich in culture, diversity, art, music, language, literature, religion, sport and so many slices of history. We are comprised of not one, but four countries: Scotland, England, Wales and Northern Ireland. We are not, as Meghan snidely stated on her Netflix show with a smirk, a place where “everything is… smaller.”
In my opinion, Meghan’s disdain for the UK peaked when she decided to mock the act of curtseying the late Queen during the Netflix debacle. As I watched her awkwardly bending with her arms dramatically outstretched, I was shocked. Not because I’m a die hard Royalist who reveres the curtsy, but because I wondered how a woman who was so quick to say her own heritage and culture had been disrespected for years, could sit and mock a ritual so deeply symbolic to another heritage and culture. This move struck me as problematic.
While Meghan and Harry’s hatred of Britain is increasingly apparent, they seem to conveniently forget that they parade (quite publicly) the very titles (Duke and Duchess of Sussex amongst others) they claim to abhor. These titles are aristocratic labels gifted solely on the basis of nepotism and require no qualifications or demonstration of skill. Need I also remind them, as a Scot, that they also hold the titles of Earl and Countess of Dumbarton (my home county in Scotland). If Meghan and Harry want continue to claim they are committed to equality, democracy and “acknowledging the pains of history” in regard to the past British Empire, why are they willing to hold unearned titles in my country which was brutally colonized by England?
The saga of Meghan and Harry has become a joke. I am no longer willing to listen and be told how move in the world, particularly as a Scottish person, by two people who seem incapable of responsibly navigating the unending power, status and wealth they have been gifted. I wish they would listen to the criticism, much of it valid, that the media sends their way uninvited. While their dislike for the press seems to be another institution they wish to destroy (who needs journalists?), perhaps they could learn something by reading the occasional fair commentary on the “social justice” circus they’ve created in exchange for tremendous profit.