Why I Adore Princess Diana

And hated The Royal Family

Photo by Bjorn Pierre on Unsplash

Before I write my two cents, I want to thank Ruby Noir 😈for challenging me with these writing prompts and challenges. They are indeed a challenge. The last few weeks have been dark for me, so stepping out from under the dark cloud has been helpful for creativity.

Prompt: What do you think of the English Royal Family?

If their name isn’t Princess Diana of Wales, then I’m not interested in seeing, hearing, or reading what that family does or doesn’t make; a lot of blood money continues circulating throughout that family with people who look like me constantly paying the price.

Watching The Queen on Netflix confirmed what I believed about that family from the beginning; they are racist and snobby and care nothing about underserved communities. They’re out of touch with the current state of the world, and it pisses me off to see people licking their horse-shit-covered boats to “get a taste” of the royal family.

As much as I would like to blame “the family,” I must also question Princess Diana’s parents. They did a piss poor job of protecting her, and the family preyed upon her ignorance and lack of maturity to make bold decisions for her.

The relationship is rushed and fake, and Diana is the pawn in the drama. At eleven years old, I sat in front of the tv watching the wedding. I don’t know what I even cared about back then, but it was something about Diana that I admired. Looking back at old footage and interviews, she had a terrible pregnancy and body image issues that probably didn’t start until she entered the family.

She wanted to eat but was afraid of being labeled a pig the next day by the media. Being forced to sit and stand for long periods while pregnant is perhaps worse than getting stung by a bee unless you’re allergic. The happiest time was her nightmare, and I don’t care what family it is; any decent human should have empathy for that alone.

Based on the timeline of those events and my going through puberty, I was Diana. I did suffer from bullying, extreme insecurities, and eating disorders (my therapist’s words, not mine). I would starve myself to look thin and happy like my peers, which was hell.