Prince Harry Was A Little Boy

His mother was killed.

Five years into our lives together, Marco Polo is still afraid of open doors. Judge him if you like. (Author’s photo)

Wow the news is full of Prince Harry’s new book about his life. There are of course many opinions, and so many seem negative to me. As if we all have a right to judge. As usual, the stink of hypocrisy makes me back away from my laptop several times a day.

Why? Because Tales of Childhood Trauma are rampant on the World Wide Web. Which is a good thing, on the one hand, because light must be shed. People must be heard and believed.

But who are we to pretend we know the first thing about Harry’s life or the impact of his lived experiences?

I think anybody who has a complaint about Harry and how he has handled the worst tragedy a child can experience can just shut up right now, or else quit complaining about your own childhood trauma.

You can’t have it both ways.

Either you have managed to “rise above” your childhood trauma, or grown through it, or recovered from it; or you can leave Harry alone. And goodie for you.

He was a little boy. His mother was killed. He believed, as any child would, that she was not really dead. She had just escaped. If this does not touch your heart, I would argue that you don’t have one.

He lives in the Heir & Spare world, which I imagine not any of us have to endure. Would it be so great to know you’ll come into your own iff* your sibling dies? (*This means “if and only if,” just in case your experiences in life didn’t include marrying a philosopher.)

Lots of people are writing about their childhood traumas and the scars these injuries leave behind. But many people are also tittering behind their hands about what a balls-up job he is doing with his life. As if we could know anything about his life.

Maybe it’s a consolation, to think people born to palaces can mess up just like those of us who have never been within spitting distance of a palace. Maybe we just like it when we get to look into the lives of people who are merely human. Just like ourselves.

I can’t do it all the time by any means, but occasionally I like to remember that everyone is just doing the best they can at any given moment.

What do we lose by remembering that?