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Once seen as a fresh breeze through the musty halls of Buckingham Palace, Meghan Markle’s fairytale quickly twisted into a tabloid saga. Her messy family drama, luxe lifestyle pivots, and a brand that often feels more curated than candid have turned public fascination into fatigue. So how did the duchess of modern charm become a symbol of royal controversy? Let’s unpack the royal whiplash.
Meghan Markle’s 2017 engagement to Prince Harry was perceived as a turning point. She was young and modern, and many saw her as a breath of fresh air for a tradition-bound monarchy.
However, through time, headlines turned hostile. After their dramatic and highly publicized royal exit in 2020, that hopeful image began to unravel, especially as tensions between Harry and William grew sharper.
Since then, Meghan’s carefully curated public persona, media ventures, and attempts to win public trust have largely fallen flat. For many, the fairytale never delivered on its promise.
Born in 1981, Meghan Markle grew up in Los Angeles with her mother, Doria Ragland, a social worker and yoga instructor, and her father, Thomas Markle, a lighting director.
Her all-American upbringing stood in stark contrast to the British royal tradition. From the beginning, she was seen by some as too different to truly belong.
With her accent, background, and outsider status, she challenged expectations. For parts of the British press and public, her roots were reason enough to question her place.
Before she met Prince Harry, Meghan Markle was already in the spotlight as an actress—best known for her role in Suits and Hollywood connections.
To some, this made her a refreshing choice. But others, particularly in the British media and royal traditionalist circles, viewed her existing fame as a warning sign.
Her past life, public persona, and career didn’t blend easily with royal expectations. Critics saw her not as a newcomer—but as someone bringing their own agenda.
Before becoming a duchess, Meghan Markle was married to producer Trevor Engelson from 2011 to 2013. Her divorce didn’t go unnoticed by British media or public opinion.
While divorce is hardly rare today, some traditionalists viewed it as a red flag. An American, an actress, and divorced? That combo sparked early criticism.
To parts of the press and public, her past felt like baggage, not background. That early doubt helped cement a skeptical view that’s lingered ever since.
Despite everything that set Meghan Markle apart—her nationality, career, and race—much of the public was genuinely excited about her joining the royal family in 2018.
Her relationship with Prince Harry was seen as a symbol of progress. Many hoped she would modernize the monarchy and bring in a much-needed new perspective.
But her royal wedding in 2018 marked a shift. From family drama to protocol debates, it sparked the first serious controversies—and not all the headlines were celebratory.
In the lead-up to the 2018 royal wedding, rumors swirled that Meghan Markle had made Kate Middleton cry during a bridesmaid dress fitting for Princess Charlotte.
For years, this version of events dominated headlines, painting Meghan as difficult and demanding, while Kate was cast as the graceful victim holding back tears.
But in 2021, Meghan told Oprah it was actually Kate who made her cry, not the other way around. By then, the damage was done—and the narrative had already stuck.
One of the biggest shocks surrounding Meghan Markle’s 2018 wedding was her father’s absence. Thomas Markle, once expected to walk her down the aisle, didn’t attend at all.
After it was revealed he staged paparazzi photos for money, and following conflicting statements to the press, Thomas pulled out, citing health issues and embarrassment.
While Meghan confirmed he wouldn’t be coming, many felt that cutting him out entirely—especially on such a public, symbolic day—was too harsh, fueling criticism and speculation.
Thomas Markle’s absence from the wedding stirred plenty of controversy, but he wasn’t the only one left off the guest list. Meghan’s half-siblings on her father’s side were also excluded.
Samantha and Thomas Jr. didn’t just stay silent—they took their outrage to every tabloid willing to listen, accusing Meghan of abandoning her family for fame.
The decision raised questions: What was Meghan hiding? Why was nearly her entire paternal side shut out? For many, this showed a desire to keep certain narratives off-camera.
After the wedding fallout, Meghan Markle wrote a heartfelt, handwritten letter to her father in 2018, asking him to stop speaking to the press and to respect her privacy.
Instead of mending their relationship, the letter became tabloid fodder. Thomas Markle shared it with The Mail on Sunday, sparking a media frenzy and a legal battle.
Many saw the move as cold and strategic. This fueled the public’s growing mistrust and media obsession.
Meghan Markle’s wedding guest list made headlines—not just for who was there, but for who very pointedly wasn’t. The star-studded crowd included Oprah, Serena Williams, and the Clooneys.
Some of these guests reportedly barely knew the couple, yet were given front-row seats, while certain royals—like Sarah Ferguson—were left off entirely. The contrast didn’t go unnoticed.
To many, it looked like a strategic move: align with global fame, not dusty family ties. For critics, it added to the growing sense that Meghan was curating an image, not a union.
Among the whispers trailing Meghan Markle’s wedding day, one curious rumor stood out: that Queen Elizabeth reportedly thought Meghan’s dress was a bit too white.
The speculation stemmed from Meghan being a divorcée—a status that, in royal tradition, supposedly called for something a little less bridal and a little more subdued.
Nothing was ever confirmed, of course, but the rumor fed into a larger theme: that even Meghan’s fashion choices were seen by some as breaking unspoken royal rules.
Bishop Michael Curry’s passionate, gospel-infused sermon about love and justice stunned British high society. Some guests looked thrilled; others looked like they swallowed a lemon.
While many praised the sermon’s message, others said it “wasn’t appropriate” for a royal wedding. Translation: it was too loud, too American, and too unapologetically different.
For Meghan, it was a proud moment of inclusion. For her critics, it was another sign she wasn’t playing by the palace’s unspoken rules.
Meghan and Harry’s 2018 royal wedding was billed as a modern fairytale—but it came with a very real price tag: around £32 million, much of it funded by taxpayers.
While supporters gushed over the pageantry and symbolism, others questioned the cost, especially the hefty security bill, given the couple’s relatively short stint as working royals.
When they stepped back from royal duties just two years later, public frustration grew. Was it worth the spectacle? For many, the answer felt like a very expensive no.
During her short time as a member of the royal family, Meghan Markle faced accusations of being difficult to work with behind the scenes.
Multiple palace staff members reportedly complained about her behavior, claiming she was demanding and, in some cases, emotionally harsh. The word “bullying” made headlines more than once.
Buckingham Palace quietly launched an internal HR investigation, though the findings were never made public. The rumors added to the growing perception that Meghan clashed with the royal system on more than one front.
During her pregnancy with Archie in 2019, Meghan Markle flew to New York for a lavish baby shower thrown by her celebrity friends—including Serena Williams and Amal Clooney.
The event took place in a $75,000-per-night penthouse and reportedly cost over $300,000, complete with flower trucks, private chefs, and designer goodie bags.
While her inner circle loved it, the British press didn’t. Critics called it tone-deaf and excessive, especially for a working royal whose image was supposed to be more understated and relatable.
When Meghan and Harry welcomed their first son, Archie Harrison Mountbatten-Windsor, on May 6, 2019, they made one thing clear: this royal birth would not follow the script.
Unlike previous royal mothers, Meghan skipped the traditional Lindo Wing photo op—no baby-on-the-steps moment with photographers. Instead, they introduced Archie in a private photo call two days later at Windsor Castle.
Many praised the couple for prioritizing privacy over pageantry. But critics, especially in the British press, called it secretive and controlling, arguing they wanted royal perks without royal transparency.
On January 8, 2020, Meghan and Harry shocked the world—and the royal family—by announcing their decision to step back from their roles as senior royals.
Posted to Instagram without warning to the palace, the statement said they would split their time between the UK and North America and become financially independent. The media dubbed it Megxit, and the fallout was immediate.
Some applauded the couple for carving out their own path. Others saw it as a betrayal of duty and tradition. The public was split, but one thing was clear: the fairytale was officially over.
As Harry’s bond with the royal family appeared to strain, Meghan quickly became the one many blamed for driving the wedge deeper, especially after Megxit.
Critics painted her as the mastermind behind the exit, accusing her of isolating Harry from his brother, father, and even longtime royal duties and friends.
Whether fair or not, the narrative stuck: Meghan wasn’t just leaving the Firm—she was taking Harry with her. To some, that made her more antagonist than outsider.
When Meghan and Harry moved to trademark “Sussex Royal” in early 2020, it wasn’t just a branding move—it sparked a wave of public backlash.
Critics saw it as the couple trying to turn their royal titles into a personal brand, cashing in on the monarchy while supposedly stepping away from it.
The move felt tone-deaf to many, especially in the UK. Using “royal” for commercial gain didn’t sit well—and the Queen eventually stepped in to shut it down.
After Meghan and Harry stepped back from royal duties in 2020, one of the biggest questions—and controversies—was who would foot the bill for their security.
Initially, they expected continued protection despite no longer being working royals. But UK authorities cut off public-funded security, prompting debate.
When they moved to Canada, and later California, backlash grew. Critics argued taxpayers shouldn’t cover private lives abroad, while supporters stressed real threats meant protection was a necessity, not a luxury.
In her 2021 interview with Oprah, Meghan dropped one of the most explosive claims yet: that someone in the royal family had raised concerns about Archie’s skin color.
She revealed that during her pregnancy, there were “conversations” about how dark the baby might be, and that he wouldn’t be given a royal title or security.
The revelations sparked international outrage, with accusations of racism hitting the palace hard. The royals denied it—but the damage was done, and trust in the Firm took a major hit.
In her 2021 interview with Oprah, Meghan revealed something that caught a lot of attention: her son, Archie, wasn’t given a royal title at birth.
She said the decision came from within the palace and wasn’t explained clearly—adding that it felt especially strange given Archie’s place in the royal line.
Her daughter, Lilibet, also doesn’t hold a title. While the palace pointed to tradition, Meghan suggested something deeper was at play.
There’s no denying that Meghan Markle has faced racism—from the press, the public, and possibly even within the royal family. That part of the conversation is real.
But for some, defending her isn’t always straightforward. She’s mixed race, yes—but also grew up in private schools, had a Hollywood-connected father, and lived a relatively comfortable life.
Add in her celebrity status, luxury lifestyle, and carefully curated image, and it’s harder for people to see her as a relatable victim. For many, she’s privileged—just not the right kind.
During her 2021 interview with Oprah, Meghan shared a deeply personal moment—she had experienced suicidal thoughts while pregnant and felt she had nowhere to turn.
She said she went to the royal institution for help and asked to see a therapist, but was told it “wouldn’t be good for the institution.” She was denied.
The moment resonated with many viewers, earning her sympathy and sparking conversations about mental health, especially among women under public pressure. For once, her vulnerability cut through the noise.
After their explosive Oprah interview in 2021, Meghan and Harry began to regain public momentum—and in 2022, they followed it up with their Netflix docuseries.
Harry & Meghan offered an intimate look into their relationship, struggles with the royal family, and life outside the palace. It wasn’t all scandal—but it struck a chord.
While critics rolled their eyes, many viewers sympathized with their story. For a brief moment, the couple seemed to win back what they’d been fighting for all along: understanding.
In their 2022 Netflix docuseries, Meghan revealed for the first time on camera that she had suffered a miscarriage in July 2020, during a highly stressful time.
She described the emotional toll it took on both her and Harry, and suggested that the constant pressure from the media may have played a role.
The moment was raw and deeply personal. For many viewers, it humanized Meghan in a way the headlines never had—and added emotional weight to their story.
In their 2022 Netflix docuseries, Meghan and Harry claimed that royal households actively planted negative stories about them to deflect attention from other royal scandals.
They suggested that palace aides fed the press damaging narratives about them in order to protect more senior royals from public scrutiny and potential backlash.
The accusation reinforced their long-standing claim: they weren’t just unsupported—they were sacrificed. For many, it confirmed suspicions that palace politics were nastier than anyone imagined.
In the Netflix docuseries, Meghan shared that during her time as a working royal, she felt completely unsupported by the palace when facing brutal media scrutiny.
She claimed royal communications teams never defended her against false or harmful stories, even as they routinely corrected the record for other family members.
The lack of protection left her feeling isolated, exposed, and targeted. For Meghan, it wasn’t just about bad press—it was about being left to weather it all alone.
In their Netflix docuseries, Harry and Meghan revealed they never intended to fully leave the royal family—they initially proposed a part-time royal role.
They wanted to keep doing select duties while also pursuing independent projects. But the palace said no, and according to them, that rejection pushed them out for good.
The public reaction was split. Some saw it as reasonable, others saw entitlement—wanting royal perks without royal responsibilities. The “have your cake and eat it too” vibe didn’t sit well with everyone.
The Netflix docuseries earned Meghan a wave of public sympathy—her vulnerability and behind-the-scenes struggles gave people a fuller picture of life inside the palace.
But as she and Harry settled into life in Los Angeles, rolling out new media ventures and brands, old criticisms resurfaced: overexposure, attention-seeking, and a PR strategy wrapped in vulnerability.
Adding fuel to the fire were Harry’s repeated comparisons between Meghan and Princess Diana. For many, the parallels felt forced—and turned public empathy back into skepticism.
In 2020, Harry and Meghan signed a headline-grabbing podcast deal with Spotify worth a reported $20 million. The project promised inspiring, impactful audio content.
What listeners actually got was one series, Archetypes, with just 12 episodes. After that, the deal quietly fizzled out, with no follow-up season or major expansion.
Spotify executive Bill Simmons didn’t hold back, publicly calling the couple “grifters.” His comment echoed growing public criticism that Meghan and Harry were overpaid for underdelivering.
To make matters worse after the Spotify fallout, Meghan and Harry’s Archewell Foundation was briefly listed as “delinquent” by U.S. authorities in May 2024.
The reason? A registration cheque reportedly didn’t arrive on time, leading California’s Attorney General to mark the foundation as non-compliant and suspend its fundraising status.
Though Archewell later confirmed the issue was resolved, the timing was brutal. For critics, it added to the growing perception that the Sussex brand was slipping into chaos.
In May 2023, Meghan and Harry made headlines after claiming they were involved in a “near catastrophic” car chase with paparazzi through the streets of New York City.
The couple said they were relentlessly pursued after leaving an awards event, likening the experience to something out of a high-speed thriller—though NYPD later downplayed the severity.
Still, Harry and Meghan threatened legal action, accusing photo agencies of endangering lives. Some sympathized, while others questioned the dramatics.
After claiming they were chased by paparazzi in New York, Harry and Meghan demanded the agency hand over all photos taken during the incident. Backgrid’s reply? A hard no.
The agency clapped back with a snarky statement, saying “Americans long ago rejected royal prerogative,” essentially mocking the couple’s demand as entitled and outdated.
The public reaction was swift—and amused. Many found the agency’s response hilarious, fueling the narrative that Harry and Meghan take themselves far too seriously for life outside the palace.
When Harry and Meghan compared their 2023 paparazzi scare to Princess Diana’s fatal 1997 car crash, many felt the parallel was exaggerated—and deeply inappropriate.
For critics, the comparison crossed a line. Diana’s death remains a national trauma, and equating a tense taxi ride to that tragedy felt like emotional manipulation.
While Harry’s pain is understood, some feel both he and Meghan lean too heavily on Diana’s legacy. For Meghan, the echo doesn’t always land—often coming off as calculated, not heartfelt.
When Meghan unveiled her new lifestyle brand American Riviera Orchard in 2024, it had all the buzzwords: curated, elegant, coastal, aspirational… and also, jam.
The internet didn’t hold back. Critics saw it as peak influencer nonsense—another celebrity slapping their name on glass jars and calling it a “legacy project.”
Meghan became fore a stand-in for everything people hate: performative wellness, overpriced aesthetics, and celebrity branding with the nutritional value of a Pinterest board.
In March 2025, Meghan launched her much-anticipated Netflix cooking show, aiming to blend heartfelt recipes with personal stories in a warm, welcoming kitchen setting.
But the show sparked mixed reactions—mainly because it was filmed in a rented mansion, not her actual home. For a series about authenticity, that raised some eyebrows.
Some viewers found it charming, others said it felt a bit too polished and curated. The intention was there, but the delivery left people wanting something more real.
When Meghan’s Netflix cooking show dropped in 2025, viewers didn’t just tune in—they took to social media to mock, meme, and critique every carefully lit frame.
From the spotless kitchen that wasn’t her actual home to her softly spoken monologues, people found it all a bit too polished and try-hard for comfort.
Twitter users joked it felt more like an ad for scented candles than a show about food. The vibe? Less homemade lasagna, more “Pinterest-core performance art.”
There’s a growing sense among the public that Meghan Markle is constantly trying—too hard—for admiration, validation, and a seat at the cultural table.
She got the prince, the mansion, the media deals—everything that screams “dream life.” Yet instead of settling into it, she seems forever in performance mode.
Some feel she missed her moment. By walking away from the monarchy, she gave up the chance to create real change—now chasing relevance in curated, commercial ways.
Long before royalty, Meghan Markle was building a personal brand—she ran a lifestyle blog called The Tig, championed inclusion, and even spoke at the United Nations.
She’s always shown interest in meaningful causes and polished self-presentation, mixing social justice with style. On paper, it’s admirable. In practice, it’s been complicated.
After years of scandals and headline battles, many now see her as overly calculated. What once felt inspiring to some now comes off as pretentious—and hard to fully believe.
Meghan Markle continues to divide public opinion like few figures can. Some of the criticism she faces is clearly unfair—rooted in racism, sexism, and outdated expectations.
But it’s also true that her story isn’t free of drama. From strategic media moves to family fallouts and high-profile brand launches, she’s fueled the controversy as much as she’s endured it.
Whether you see her as a modern icon or a master of image management, one thing’s certain: Meghan doesn’t just make headlines—she is the headline.
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