By Belle Monroe
In case you missed it – Rachel Meghan Markle Mountbatten – Windsor, first of her name, decided to blow the roof off Buckingham Palace, unequivocally and unapologetically, choosing violence. “If sick and damn tired,” was person, it would be Meghan. Healthy, glowing, and clad in black Armani, she decided once and for all to tell her truth and shame a few devils.
For two hours, of riveting television, the world watched a woman who had been propelled into the spotlight three years ago, decide that enough was enough. As quiet as it’s kept, I don’t watch Suits and I knew nothing of her life or career. I’ll admit that outside of Diana, the rest of the royal family is about as polarizing as a Jhene Aiko album. Honestly Meghan was the most interesting thing to happen to London since Lindsay Lohan left that summer camp, pretending to be her own twin sister, so that she could meet her momma. One day let’s unpack why Nick and Elizabeth, RIP Natasha Richardson, decided to play Solomon and split the babies. The whole arrangement was ashy as hell but I digress.
When the world found out that Meghan of Crenshaw would be marrying a prince, and not just any prince, but one of the chosen ones, there was great fanfare. I wasn’t alive when Diana married Charles. However, she has been famous as long as I’ve been alive. People watched as a 19-year-old in yards of Ivory silk taffeta and an everlasting train, walked into her destiny and what was thought to be a real-life fairy tale. For 17 years women got married with her, had children alongside side her, get divorced and just when she seemed to find her way, they said good bye to her. There was an investment in her, and her most cherished legacy, which are her two sons. It was awesome seeing Meghan get married to a besotted prince in a fun and fresh royal ceremony. Things felt right until they didn’t.
Months into the marriage there seemed to be a shift in her coverage. All of a sudden everything from the clothes she wore, to her nail polish, even the way she held her husband’s hand, seemed to be under harsh scrutiny. To go under any comment section of a Meghan Markle related post, was to see people with a visceral and vitriolic hatred of her. They would never give specifics, but there was always the undercurrent. The kind that if you’ve been black more than 5 minutes of your life, you know it.
You would read and hear her being compared to her sister-in-law. They were both around the same age, both beautiful, and college educated. There was a compare and contrast that always seemed like Kate was somehow Perrier Jouet and Meghan was Loko. It was cruel, disgusting and most of all blatant.
Ever since that interview I’ve found myself captivated by the story. I’ve engaged in conversation and debates, some friendly and some not so much. I’ve watched and read as this situation opened up dialogue about racism, mental health, postpartum depression, suicide, colorism, classism, and even family ties. I’ll admit that I hate the semantics of the biracial and racial ambiguity of Meghan. When I look at her I see a refined fair skinned black woman, whose hair is as kinky as mine when water and humidity hits it. Above all else I believed a woman who said that in her darkest days, carrying her first child, she saw no way out. My heart broke for her. It also goes to show that if a duchess with 5 million dollars of her own money and a millionaire prince husband with unlimited resources were living in a special hell what does that mean for women with a Ventra card and $20 till pay day. This world really must do better by women, especially black women.
I loved that for once a black woman was sitting on television, with a husband who was proud and loved her enough to say that the generational curse of abusing future Queens or Duchesses will end with him even if it means I have to leave my toxic family and birth country behind to do it. The moment that made me the most emotional was hearing that his mother’s money ended up being his salvation. It further lends truth to an earlier article when I said parental love is the best and strongest love. In the end Diana’s gilded cage set Harry free.
