A New Royal Take

Prince Harry: The Spare Who Chose Victimhood for Vision

:deep breath:

Here we go.

So a bit about me before we start:

I am based out of New Jersey, USA, and was proudly raised on the Jersey Shore. I know what you’re thinking. Yes, the Jersey Shore gained notoriety from the MTV reality show. But no, that’s not who we are. Not all of us, anyway.

The Jersey Shore also made headlines in 2012, when it was nearly obliterated by Superstorm Sandy.

I don’t want to relive that time of uncertainty of “Is my house still there?” and watching my childhood get washed out to sea.

But in 2013, Prince Harry came to see the destruction that the storm left, and alongside the governor at the time, he toured the hardest hit areas and shook hands with emergency responders and construction workers. Basically, he gave us the hope that even though our community was at our lowest, the world was watching and stood with us.

I didn’t go see Harry when he was a mile away from my home (shocking I know), but being the royalist I am, I was proud he took the time to visit. I thought he was a cool guy.

However, over the years, my opinion has fluctuated. At this point it has made a complete 180°.

This is not a biography of Prince Harry.

In this post, I’ll try to examine of why my once-favorable view shifted – when personal grievance began to outweigh purpose.

 I will then close this out with a message directly to the man who to be honest, grinds my gears.

I’ve done my research; I’ve read his book and watched the show on Netflix. That’s the information he wants us to go off of, right?

Let’s rage.

Prince Harry has mastered many things in life — military discipline, charity work, turning personal turmoil into a global spectacle — but the trait he wields most consistently is the performance of grievance. His ongoing saga is less a rebellion against the monarchy and more a long-form audition for the role of “misunderstood truth-teller,” a part he seems determined to play even when the script contradicts itself.

Some princes break away from the crown and build something new.

Harry broke away and built a brand.

And the core of that brand is injury — not the kind one heals from, but the kind one revisits, repackages, and retells depending on the audience. For a man who promises freedom, he delivers a startling amount of repetition. There is always someone else at fault, some unseen hand directing the drama, some external force responsible for his unhappiness. In Harry’s world, self-reflection is optional, but self-pity is perpetual.

The Performance of Grievance

Every problem in Harry’s narrative exists because of someone else’s actions, but every solution appears to come from his own moral clarity — a convenient framing that keeps him both victim and hero. His storytelling relies heavily on editing, both literal and emotional: the palace is always the aggressor, the press always the tormentor, and Harry always the lone man standing against an unjust world.

It’s not that his pain is fabricated — it’s that he interprets every chapter through the same lens. The monarchy becomes a villain he cannot quit, even as he insists he has outgrown it.
He even went to great lengths to leave the “institution” and demand privacy that was never allowed to him.

 Historical princes rebelled, disappeared, or occasionally wrote brooding poetry. Harry gives interviews. Not very private.

The Hollywood Paradox

Speaking of the need for privacy: Harry claims he left royal life to escape relentless public scrutiny. Then he entered the only place on earth more addicted to attention than Buckingham Palace: Hollywood.

It wasn’t rebellion — it was a pivot.

He traded royal duty for production deals, palace silence for televised confessionals, and discretion for the full glamour of curated transparency. There is a difference between fleeing the spotlight and dragging it with you, and Harry seems determined to do the latter. His life now functions on the currency of exposure, not escape.

He didn’t reject publicity.

He simply rebranded it.

The Diana Factor (Handled with Respect)

Princess Diana’s legacy looms large in Harry’s life — understandably so. But invoking her memory cannot function as both shield and sword. He often uses her as proof that he is destined to be harmed, misunderstood, or mistreated by the institution, yet also as justification for why his version of events must remain unquestioned.

Diana was a complex, luminous figure whose story deserves reverence.

Harry’s reliance on her memory sometimes feels less like homage and more like emotional punctuation.

When a narrative rests heavily on inherited wounds, it becomes difficult to distinguish authenticity from choreography.

The Spare Who Wants to Be the Center

Harry insists he wants a quiet life — but also wants to control a narrative that spans continents and industries. He rejects hierarchy while still resenting where he fell within it. He critiques royal life while expecting royal deference from the public.

This is the contradiction at the heart of his reinvention:

He left the monarchy, but he did not leave the monarchy’s need for significance.

A prince without a title is still a prince in the mirror, and Harry’s reflections remain crowded with ghosts of the crown he claims he escaped. He doesn’t “want” to be a member of the monarchy; but he certainly isn’t stopping anyone (especially not his wife) from the “logo” of the Dukedom of Sussex.

The Misuse of “Truth”

Harry places himself in the position of the lone truth-teller — the only one brave enough to reveal what the palace hides. But his truths shift depending on platform, payment, or the emotional needs of the moment. They are polished, rehearsed, sometimes contradictory, and always delivered with the tenor of revelation.

He shares stories that evolve upon retelling.

He recounts events differently depending on where he sits and who is holding the microphone.

And as any Tudor historian will tell you — truth that bends for its audience is not truth at all. It is narrative.

As the late Queen Elizabeth II said, “Recollections may vary.”

Conclusion: A Prince Without a Plot

Harry could have become a modern example of reinvention — a man who stepped away with dignity and built a life defined by purpose rather than pain. Instead, he has become a perpetual narrator of his own wounds, unable to move forward without dragging the past behind him like royal baggage he refuses to check.

He left the palace walls, but not the drama.

He sought peace, but performs discontent.

He wanted freedom, but clings tightly to the storyline that keeps him relevant.

This is not a visionary in exile.

It is a prince without a plot, searching for meaning in the echo chamber of his own grievances.

Harry could have rewritten his story with grace. Instead, he chose volume. He stepped away from the monarchy yet behaves as though the monarchy still owes him applause for the exit. He left the stage but refuses to stop delivering monologues from the wings.

History rarely rewards those who cling to their own wounds as legacy. And Harry’s insistence on recasting himself as the perpetual casualty has left him curiously powerless — a prince defined not by what he builds, but by what he blames.

In the end, the tragedy is simple:

He escaped the institution, but not himself.

He severed the crown, but not the grievance.

He wanted liberation, but settled for attention.

A man may abandon his royal role, but when he cannot let go of the narrative, the narrative becomes his new throne. And Harry sits upon it — loudly, restlessly — presiding over an empire of complaints that grows smaller each time he speaks.

To Prince Harry:

If you want privacy, million dollar deals with media powerhouses aren’t the way to get it.

If you want respect, learn that respect is earned, it’s not a given.

If you want to make a worldwide impact, do it without the need for photographers.    

If you want to change the institution that raised you, just stop. You’re going against a thousand years of continuity and tradition and no matter how many tantrums you throw you are not going to be the one to destroy it, you whiny brat.

To Meghan, search me up. I’ll show you how to curtsy in American as an American, without looking like a damn clown.

:curtsies CORRECTLY in American: