Revisiting Kate Middleton

I used to have a negative opinion of Kate Middleton. In my eyes, she appeared to be a passive and uninteresting figure, seemingly overshadowed by her bland husband, Prince William. I couldn't respect her game. I still don't. Personally, I was never the little girl who dreamed of being a princess or a queen; biracial girls were never the princess, and I got the message. Not for you. 

Besides, a career smiling and waving and living with ridiculous protocols is not a life I envy. Chasing William was like hunting down a stale box of water crackers no one wanted. The stories boldly circulating about the aristocratic Diana types refusing to entertain the thought of being his queen, even though he had approached many of them, were just too cringeworthy and, frankly, pitiful. They had their own money and social status; why would they settle for a Windsor and those cruel genetics when they had freedom and autonomy. 

I thought, Kate, girl, get some pride.

The fans said, "But she gets to be Queen!"

I thought, big damn deal. 

I actually still think that, and their stolen blood jewels be damned. 

Throughout the years, she was subjected to labels such as "Waity" and "the Royal Mattress" due to her extended courtship with William and apparent lack of a career. Her identity primarily revolved around her relationship with William, and this was something I struggled to connect with. When William's behavior was questionable, Kate often bore the brunt of criticism, even as a married man he openly pursued other women and exhibited poor conduct. She was settling for a prince who did not genuinely value her.

Furthermore, the royal circle seemed to regard her with disdain, perceiving her as an outsider overly eager to climb the social hierarchy. Tatler magazine, the British upper crusty bible, was ruthless, and they have been shooting arrows in double language from the beginning, which only that kind of understand. The July 2024 cover is a choice that was signed off on, and their covers with her on it have been unflattering. She and her sister, Pippa, were given the unflattering moniker "The Wisteria Sisters." 

Reflecting on this, my perspective may have been influenced by prevalent gossip and rumors at the time. As in, I had spent too many hours on Celebitchy drinking the noxious Kool-Aid, and even though I thought they were a bunch of obsessive, unbalanced lunatics, it is easy to fall victim to at least one of the points they made. 

This cover had royal lovers in knots of outrage. Tatler is trolling. They have to be because this is not good.

Surprising to me is that when she shared her devastating diagnosis of cancer, it softened my attitude toward her. Seriously, folks, I am not that nice or objective when I view a woman as a doormat for some dumb man's shit-covered shoes. In the face of mortality, though, that hardly matters, especially when I am sure that her diagnosis is very serious. Her cancer may be related to her reproductive system; these types of cancers are often not detected until the later stages, making survival rates low. The palace handled the situation poorly, making people feel frustrated and left in the dark about what was happening while asking valid questions. 

When you are on the public luxury dole people want to see you smiling and waving until your arm falls off. Where was Princess Kate's whereabouts? It was ridiculous. I don't regret making jokes because, at that time, I was unaware of the situation and blamed the inadequate palace press team and William. I understand their dilemma, but they could have communicated something that made sense and allowed people to show concern for her and respect their family's privacy. We won't even go into that AI photo disaster, which only confirmed that she is very unwell, so they wouldn't put out a real photo; no, they tried trickery and fell on their faces. It was becoming madcap and disastrous. 

Watching the video, I was deeply moved by her words for the first time. Her message resonated with me so profoundly that I couldn't help but burst into tears. It felt as though she was living out my worst fears. My dedication to staying fit and healthy is primarily driven by my love for my children and husband. Each step I take while running is fueled by my desire to witness my future grandchildren thriving. By the way, I hate running and prefer my other forms of exercise, but it is easy to work in, so I do it while cursing my parents for allowing me to be born. 

However, the thought of not being able to grow old with my beloved and potentially leaving my children behind is utterly overwhelming and unimaginable. It's not my own well-being that takes my breath away, but the impact it would have on them. They are still young and have so much more to experience and learn. I have a resolute commitment to fulfill. I cannot bear the idea of my children longing for me, enduring pain, and yearning for my presence. I am uncertain whether my husband could withstand it. While he gives me unwavering support, I know that a part of his heart and love belongs to me, and we have aspirations for the future. 

I imagine Kate as a nurturing and devoted mother whose love and commitment to her children are undeniable, regardless of anyone's opinions about her. She is confronted with a situation one wouldn't typically expect at her age. Usually, thoughts about mortality come much later in life, usually in one's 70s, not in their early 40s. However, cancer shows no bias. It disregards one's status, wealth, or life circumstances. It is a relentless and impartial killer. Receiving such a diagnosis must evoke an unsettling fear that survival may not be the ultimate outcome. 

It's heartbreaking, making me want to comfort her and offer my support. I've heard that a diagnosis like this can make someone feel isolated and alone, with moments of despair. When my grandmother and aunt had breast cancer, it completely transformed their lives. Although they ultimately survived, it was a harrowing experience for those who cared about them. Yet, our fears couldn't compare to the magnitude of what they were going through.

As I observed her at Trooping the Colour, I was struck by the intricately layered makeup on her face. The carefully applied blush, bronzer, and highlighter seemed great work adorning her features. Knowing her battle with cancer and chemotherapy, I, as a former makeup artist, could see the skillful way she had concealed the effects of her treatment. Even weary in the car, she summoned an exhausted smile, offering reassurance and comfort to royal fans. 

Her incredible strength and resilience inspired me to create a video reminiscent of "Leave Britany Alone" to urge publications like Celebitchy to give her the space and respect she deserves. Okay, I clearly didn't do a melodramatic scene worthy of the worst telenovela, but it did enter my mind for a wild wine-fueled second. 

Something unfamiliar and heavy is in my chest, I realize, and it is beating!

My God, don't tell me I feel something?

Is that a heart in that dark, empty cavern?

Make it stop!

Don't get me wrong. My previous criticisms stand. Snark never met a bitch who loved her more, and I will never be one to hold back. I don't feel guilty for thinking like I did and refusing to revise history. I refuse to pretend I liked Kate's outfit or her hairstyle for Trouping. I am sure I will still have criticisms in the future because I will still hate a lot of her styling, still think she isn't exciting, still find her crooked, grifting family insufferable, and find some harsh snark funny. 

I have no plans to become self-righteous or correct others because that's obnoxious, but I will have more compassion, consider my words more, and see the positives when they are apparent. It doesn't mean I will forget any blundering or suddenly support the idea of monarchies; it just means sometimes one has to give someone grace and not be the asshole in the room. I think I am up to the challenge. 

Photos: Conde Nast, Getty, blogs without credits.