It’s okay to both love and hate a royal tour
Aprincess who looks stunning in black, talks about period poverty and gives a shout-out to feminism in a speech at Government House? Yes, please. I’ll bow down to that. There has been so much about the royal tour to find fault with.
Why have we spent about a million dollars to host Prince Harry and Meghan Markle on their royal gallivant around the country?
How do poorer countries like Tonga pay the extravagant bill for their highnesses?
Why must news websites live blog every moment?
Was it really worth getting so excited over Meghan’s three whole words of te reo? (Let’s be honest. Most kindergarten kids can top that, and nail the pronunciation.)
All of this, and yet, I loved every moment. The way Harry and Meghan look at each other. The way she rocked a $56 ASOS maternity dress as if she was a regular preggers pleb like the rest of us, and threw gumboots like a boss.
The way they both seem so gracious and lovely yet not boring, the kind of couple you’d definitely want to be sitting next to at a party.
The way he brandished that ridiculous crochet buzzy bee over his head like a birthday-drunk three-year-old, and not the recipient of a floppy, knitted insect with a glaring design flaw.
Harry, you smiling fool! It’s got wheels of wool! How are you even going to pull it?
Meghan used her speech at a Government reception to highlight how feminism is about fairness.
At the same event, she encouraged Northlandbased Labour MP Willow-Jean Prime in her work with the Tukau Community Fund, which distributes menstrual cups free to poor Northland women. This warms the cockles of my heart.
I love the way people gather, leaving their lounge rooms carefully dressed in royal-worthy outfits and waiting for hours on the street to meet the exalted couple.
I love that they craft thoughtful hand-made gifts, holding signs saying ‘‘Hi Harry! I’m Harry!’’ and then dying, dying of excitement when they are acknowledged.
I love that they feel compelled to yell out ‘‘Gingers rule!’’ at Harry. Like the inspired quip from 21-year-old punter Liam Welby, who went on to tell a journalist: ‘‘He’s probably the best ginger I’ve seen, apart from myself in the mirror.’’
Most people I have spoken to about the royal tour fall into one of the below camps. Go ahead, choose yours: a. I literally don’t care. Why am I still reading this article, if only to sledge it in the comments? Oh, wait. b. It’s a waste of money, we should become a republic. c. Who are they? d. Wow, she’s amazing, and he’s hilarious! What are they doing today? e. The monarchy is a patriarchal remnant of colonialism. Burn it down.
Over the past week, I’ve decided it’s OK to hold some or all of these positions simultaneously.
‘‘The way they both seem so gracious and lovely yet not boring, the kind of couple you’d definitely want to be sitting next to at a party.’’
I’ve reached the conclusion my admiration for Meghan and Harry as people – she wrote a letter to Procter & Gamble decrying sexist language in an advertisement at age 11, for god’s sake! His mum was Princess Diana! They’re promoting mental health and the environment! – can co-exist with my cynicism about the monarchy in general.
My love of pageantry and pride at the adorable earnestness with which we show off our culture – Ma¯ ori and Pa¯ keha – comes hand in hand with the knowledge that Ma¯ ori continue to grapple with widespread problems caused by a legacy of colonisation by the British.
I can, for a moment, wish I was a princess, while realising how incredibly problematic it is to promote this as an aspiration for young girls, who don’t need princes to create their own fairytales, and also that I wouldn’t want to give up my job and would constantly trip over in heels.
To sum up: this royal tour was a real rollercoaster of emotions.
Time for a cup of tea and a lie-down.