The fact that I'm British or not is irrelevant to this:
I am standing inside the future King's palace, like I have many times before, spanning 1.5 decades, by personal invitation. He is touching my shoulder. He is wishing me a Merry Christmas. He waits for me to laugh at his jokes and wants me to like him. He asks me about my boyfriend and expresses to me that I should make sure he’s a good guy and tells me that he hopes my boyfriend treats me exceptionally, the way I deserve to be treated. He double-kisses me hello and goodbye. He invites me to his Palace to photograph him for the cover of the biggest British tabloid, during the busiest time of the press year. I ask him/them about limitations to the photoshoot, his people tell me there is none. He compliments my photography, his reaction to our cover-story being, “I think I’ve seen some amazing photographs lately” was his entrance to the room - he didn’t say hello, that was his hello. He invites me to speak on stage, alongside him. Not once, but twice. My first speech was so revered, a long, roaring standing ovation ensued. He invited me to speak at his first official event of his princely duties, a nice man at his office at the time asked me if the event was “going ok?” as they wanted to make sure it was. William followed my speech by reading from a page that was written by someone else, and constantly looked down at his seemingly un-rehearsed speech. I however, held their gaze, and with it, their hearts and minds. After my first speech, he came to kneel down on the floor beside my chair and held my hand on my knee to tell me that my speech was much better than his, and it was. He told a mutual friend that I was a natural. My friend said everyone was talking about the fact that he has had the world’s best training on delivering speeches, versus me at the time, an 18-year-old girl living in poverty, in a homelessness hostel, who had never publicly addressed an audience of that size and importance before, yet there was no doubt about it: I’d showed him up and it was easy. For the second speech, he knows how good I am, he nervously jokes to me to make sure my speech is not better than his. He is intimidated by me - because I have what he will never have, I am one of the people and I speak for the people. I am accepted in a way he will never be. To me, this is easy. To him, it is hard, he’s on the stage and afraid of making a mistake. I deliver my second speech and the reception is the same. Addressing the people regarding social justice is like breathing to me. Again, I receive a very long and roaring standing ovation which I have to interrupt to end, because guess what? I don’t live for the applause, I live for the cause, despite knowing stage etiquette. He comes over to joke that he’d asked me for my speech not to better than his. He hugs me. He has dinner with me. We’ve drank earl grey together at his home. I’ve sipped on champagne whilst standing by his side, after he told me to go and get some because I deserved it. When leaving an event, he cuts across the room to ensure he says goodbye to me. He talks to my friend about me, she shows him photos of me on her phone and he replies, “she’s done brilliantly.” He writes to my CEO and personally thanks me in the letter. We’ve met so many times I’ve lost count. He knows me by first name. He stopped saying goodbye. The last time I saw him he simply said, “Samia, I’ll see you again.”
So you see, whether I am British or not is irrelevant, because you see, this Paki is the EMPIRE. I am empire. You cannot have EMPIRE without my father and his brothers meeting their untimely deaths in this country, whilst helping you rebuild it after the war, in horrific working conditions and a troubling racial climate. You cannot have EMPIRE without the blood of my ancestors, whose lives, riches, spices, knowledge, women, cuisine, and culture you stole for your own. No, a white man did not invent curry. So, weasel, I AM EMPIRE. You get it? It’s my blood. You are merely the arsehole of it. And it burns you inside to know that the King you worship thinks the world of this immigrant’s child, and thinks nothing of you.
You are the weakest link, goodbye👋🏾
-
William is a nice person, like for real. We’ve been in rooms together with many less-than-authentic people, it’s easy to see who is there for what reason. For me it is clear as day, I smell the BS a mile away. William’s sympathy for me and others like me is real. I have seen it with my own eyes, countless times.
But you know what else is real? Inequality, systemic injustice and white supremacy created by the after-effects of colonialism that run deep in every facet and institution of this country. Homeless people dying on our expensive streets, traumatised nurses who are starving and children raised in poverty, as sole carers for their parents, is real. People dying or not having access to legal care or health care due to the colour of their skin or religion is real.
We both have the same cause and work in common. But don’t forget I speak for the cause from being homeless, from living the atrocities, and he attends events regarding it, whilst being photographed there. These are two very different stand-points.
The Royals love their charity work, like many upper class philanthropists. There are many people who’d love to quit their jobs and only do nice charity events for the rest of their lives. It is a privilege. It strokes the ego. Makes you feel better about yourself, and in turn, oppresses the oppressed. Keeps the hierarchy in place.
Charities need not exist.
Inequality is structural, meaning, it’s on purpose.
What does this all mean?:
It’s all very well that William cares and he does his Patronage duties. But he is merely putting a plaster over a massive wound that was created by his ancestors and that is being upheld by him and his family to this day. Having conversations about a new relatives skin colour is abhorrent, to say the least, and is merely the tip of the iceberg.
He could continue putting a plaster on things. Or he could use this moment in history to not only to stand up for what is right (by abolishing the monarchy) but be the catalyst for change in the way we view colonial history and race inequality in Great Britain and indeed, the world. And then, he truly would be revered by the people (all the people - not just his current ‘fan’ base).
I still like him. The way I still like my friend’s racist old parents. At a distance and with compassion. Life is complex. People are capable of good and bad, but they are never purely one or the other, it’s wholly their responsibility which path they choose and continue to choose.
And don’t forget to keep speaking your truth, you never know who you are representing when doing so.
Disclaimer:
Don’t worry - I know he probably won’t denounce his ‘birth-right’. I also know he solely may not have the power to abolish the monarchy, but he has power over his own words.
And don’t worry, I knew when I resigned from my old job and asked them to delete all my data that I would never speak to him again - both were my active choices. Nobody owns me. And it may shock you to believe, I do have other things to live for. I realised the power within me. I’m not sure the same can be said for many nationalists though…
And also don’t worry - I don’t sit around patting myself on the back thinking about the opening paragraph. I only summarised it all for the benefit of the moronic imbecile and the likes of his friends. It really ain’t that deep for me, but it is for @western.australiaism ;)
P.s. The idea is not to make them suffer, I only wish that people gave their fellow neighbours and communities an once of compassion they seemingly have for the monarchs. The idea is not to de-humanise them, as the media does, and which some people have strong compassion for. The idea is to share that compassion for everyone else in society. The same media dehumanises muslims, black people and women - but there is little outrage for that in comparison to the treatment of the royal family. That is what is wrong.
P.p.s. I’ve never called myself the P word, and don’t ever intend to again
