Harry, Meghan, and the Price of Privacy
I am not obsessed with the British royal family. That is what I tell myself, anyway, as I binge-watch The Crown, sit through Oprah Winfrey’s interview with Harry and Meghan, and stream their six-part Netflix docuseries. On Instagram, I once referred to them—only half jokingly—as the Kardashians of the House of Windsor.
Lately, that comparison feels less flippant than accurate.
Lately, that comparison feels less flippant than accurate.
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| Photo by Samuel Regan-Asante on Unsplash |
Harry’s forthcoming memoir and the couple’s Netflix deal, reportedly worth more than $120 million, suggest that departure from the Firm has not meant departure from spectacle. They resigned as senior working royals, citing relentless media scrutiny as one reason for leaving. Yet a prime-time interview with Oprah, a tell-all book, and a global streaming series are not strategies typically associated with privacy.
Is it possible to reject the spotlight while simultaneously monetizing it?
The British royal family is one of the world’s oldest and most insular institutions. That it might harbor implicit bias, or something more explicit, did not shock me. Institutions built on lineage and empire rarely self-correct without friction. What unsettled me was the decision to acknowledge racism without identifying who was responsible. The allegation hovered, unresolved. Was it restraint? Strategy? Or something saved for another chapter?
The couple has criticized the media for trafficking in insinuation and partial truths. And yet, through carefully timed excerpts and selective disclosures, they have participated in the same cycle of speculation. The difference, perhaps, is authorship and compensation.
None of this negates the trauma.
Harry was twelve when Princess Diana died in a Paris car chase pursued by paparazzi. His grief unfolded under ceremonial expectations and public scrutiny. The anger he directs toward the British tabloids is understandable. When Meghan entered that same ecosystem and found herself chased, dissected, and racialized, it is reasonable to assume old wounds resurfaced.
But understanding a wound does not automatically validate every response to it.
Meghan’s experience inside the monarchy, particularly as a biracial American woman, was singular. She was not simply criticized as an actress or scrutinized as a newcomer. She was racialized. That distinction matters. No one else within the House of Windsor could fully inhabit that vantage point. The isolation she described feels credible. The indifference she perceived feels plausible.
Still, there is a difference between exposing harm and continually narrating it for public consumption.
Her comment that her early understanding of royal formality came from something like a Medieval Times dinner show did not read as charming self-deprecation. It felt performative, a line calibrated for reaction rather than illumination.
As for Meghan’s father, I hesitate. Parental betrayal is rarely simple. It can be clumsy rather than malicious, inattentive rather than cruel. That does not soften the pain.
This is, ultimately, a family fracture unfolding as global entertainment. There is no clear team to cheer for. The House of Windsor is not innocent. Harry and Meghan are not uncomplicated. What remains is a tableau of power, privilege, trauma, race, commerce, and ego, rendered episodic for our consumption.
What lingers is not outrage or loyalty, but discomfort.
We are watching a family unravel, and it is being sold back to us as entertainment.
Is it possible to reject the spotlight while simultaneously monetizing it?
The British royal family is one of the world’s oldest and most insular institutions. That it might harbor implicit bias, or something more explicit, did not shock me. Institutions built on lineage and empire rarely self-correct without friction. What unsettled me was the decision to acknowledge racism without identifying who was responsible. The allegation hovered, unresolved. Was it restraint? Strategy? Or something saved for another chapter?
The couple has criticized the media for trafficking in insinuation and partial truths. And yet, through carefully timed excerpts and selective disclosures, they have participated in the same cycle of speculation. The difference, perhaps, is authorship and compensation.
None of this negates the trauma.
Harry was twelve when Princess Diana died in a Paris car chase pursued by paparazzi. His grief unfolded under ceremonial expectations and public scrutiny. The anger he directs toward the British tabloids is understandable. When Meghan entered that same ecosystem and found herself chased, dissected, and racialized, it is reasonable to assume old wounds resurfaced.
But understanding a wound does not automatically validate every response to it.
Meghan’s experience inside the monarchy, particularly as a biracial American woman, was singular. She was not simply criticized as an actress or scrutinized as a newcomer. She was racialized. That distinction matters. No one else within the House of Windsor could fully inhabit that vantage point. The isolation she described feels credible. The indifference she perceived feels plausible.
Still, there is a difference between exposing harm and continually narrating it for public consumption.
Her comment that her early understanding of royal formality came from something like a Medieval Times dinner show did not read as charming self-deprecation. It felt performative, a line calibrated for reaction rather than illumination.
As for Meghan’s father, I hesitate. Parental betrayal is rarely simple. It can be clumsy rather than malicious, inattentive rather than cruel. That does not soften the pain.
This is, ultimately, a family fracture unfolding as global entertainment. There is no clear team to cheer for. The House of Windsor is not innocent. Harry and Meghan are not uncomplicated. What remains is a tableau of power, privilege, trauma, race, commerce, and ego, rendered episodic for our consumption.
What lingers is not outrage or loyalty, but discomfort.
We are watching a family unravel, and it is being sold back to us as entertainment.
_____
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