What does Meghan really want? It's a question I've been returning to at regular intervals over the last few years. I've wondered about it during the surprise 2020 "Megxit" to the United States, while watching the sympathetically constructed 2022 docuseries "Harry & Meghan" and lately, witnessing Meghan's high-profile blitz of slenderly related new ventures. In just the past few weeks, she's launched the Netflix series "With Love, Meghan," a second podcast titled "Confessions of a Female Founder with Meghan" and a "curated collection" of jams and stuff called "As Ever." They've all received mixed reviews at large and, per usual, utterly scathing commentary on social media and in the British press. And while anyone who's ever been an actor has got to crave, if not adoration, then at least a lot of approval, Meghan seems doomed to never quite achieve that particular dream. That's why I think she could learn a thing or two from her father-in-law.
As someone with an education in conflict and negotiation, I've been fascinated with Meghan since the rumors of her romance with the lesser-liked "spare" prince, Harry, started rumbling nearly a decade ago. The lady from "Suits," a Californian woman of color, seemed exactly the breath of fresh air the British monarchy could do with at the time. Inevitably, though, public goodwill toward her fell apart quickly. The dregs of the British Empire could barely restrain their racism and classism, and Meghan was easily cast as a convenient villain. Since then, she's consistently been treated in inexcusably appalling ways, having her privacy violated and the vilest of commentary directed at her. She was never going to win at being a full-time member of the monarchy. Stepping back from the gig and rebranding as royalty-lite was a wise move. But what to do with herself next, without all the ribbon cutting and whatnot?
You don't have the chutzpah to call your raspberry spread business "a love language" unless you're unabashedly looking for love yourself.
Her main imperative now, which frankly she and her husband are expertly skilled at, is protecting the immediate family and generating income. But Meghan's other burning objective does appear to be getting people to just . . . like her. You don't have the chutzpah to call your raspberry spread business "a love language" (which, by the way, what?) unless you're unabashedly looking for love yourself. And love is a deal you have to close.
Successful negotiation always requires a significant element of allurement. You want to bring people over to your side and retain the ones who are already in your corner. And Meghan, despite her very intentional regular mom persona, seems very hit or miss in that charm offensive. Her conundrum has lately been making me think about Daniel Shapiro's fascinating book, "Negotiating the Nonnegotiable," and his clear-eyed examination of the roles of tribalism and identity in accelerating conflict — and in ameliorating it.
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Meghan's personality is absolutely not everyone's cup of bespoke herbal hibiscus tea, but she's also incurred a whole lot of wrath simply for being not white and not British. And it is not up to Meghan to cure prejudice, whether it's coming from the tabloids, randos on the internet, or her own extended family. But what she can do, if she wishes, is consider what's known as relational identity. It's understanding who you are and how you position yourself in context to others. You can see it illustrated in the "Across the Barricade" episode of "Derry Girls," when a group of Northern Ireland Catholic and Protestant teens stay very much Catholic and Protestant while also aligning as teens with a shared adversary, their parents. It's Amanda Knox reaching out to the man who prosecuted her, and calling him her "adversary and friend."
Meghan can look at her father-in-law and see challenges that reflect her own — like being an unpopular, press-battered royal with an unpopular spouse.
Identity, as Shapiro points out, is both fluid and fixed. Relational identity allows both sides to preserve their autonomy but also work within their shared space, an achievement of both fluidity and fixedness. That's how Meghan can look at her father-in-law, the actual King of the United Kingdom, and see the dysfunctional dynamics but also the challenges and experiences he's faced that reflect her own — like being an unpopular, press-battered royal with an unpopular spouse.
Just as Charles was once held up as the antagonist against his beloved ex-wife Diana, Meghan has been cast as the inevitable adversary of dutiful and popular Princess Kate. She's been smart to limit her public engagement in that narrative, even as she has gotten in a few shots along the way, but her eagerness to be the relatable and likable one has often backfired.
Just be rich and glamorous, Meghan; people will keep buying your shortbread mix.
While, like Diana, she has exponentially more charisma than the average royal, Meghan doesn't possess the late princess' messy vulnerability. She is, instead, like the in-laws, polished and professional. She's also, undeniably, happy to embrace her royal identity — it's like she's not signing her correspondence "Mrs. Sussex" here. By leaning into those realities, taking a page from Charles' indifference to opinion and giving it her own cool spin, she could take her ambitions to a new level. After all, do you think Gwyneth or Oprah believe they're like us any more than Charles does? They don't, and they're fine with that. Just be rich and glamorous, Meghan; people will keep buying your shortbread mix.
Meghan doesn't have to be friends with Charles (and she has good cause not to), and she doesn't have the privilege of being titled and white, but what she does have is an insider's master class lessons from a family that knows how to chug on with world-class IDGAF energy. For decades, Charles has simply kept not being embarrassed or emotional about anything and doing the passion projects he cares about, even when he had a 4% public approval rating. It's a tactic that has, over time, de-escalated a good deal of the vitriol against him.
The Duchess of Sussex seems, from the outside, a woman who's always going to be able to get money and attention for whatever she does — and to be furiously reviled by a large segment of the populace for whatever she does, too. There's a range of reasons why she's so polarizing, and Meghan doesn't have the phalanx of sympathetic insiders in the press that the Windsors do. But by studying those areas of identity overlap between herself and Charles, she stands a better chance of attaining what she cares deeply about. That's not just podcast streams or fruit spread sales; it's respect and regard.
Meghan has said on her podcast that she's learning from other female entrepreneurs about "the sleepless nights, the lessons learned and the laser focus that got them to where they are today." Charles got where he is today by being born, but that doesn't mean he isn't one of very few people in the world who have succeeded spectacularly in turning the public tide toward his favor. The man who long seemed unsure "whatever in love means" still figured out how to get it from his subjects. And if Meghan really wants to be a girlboss, why not take inspiration from a king?
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