Meghan Markle

By David Guirgis

I never got to know Princess Diana the way my mother did. I mean, no one really knew Princess Diana – not personally, at least – but she was as much a part of my mother’s life, and I suppose the lives of many others, as family was. So when she died, my mother grieved. And she harbored a long resentment of the Queen and Prince Charles for what had happened to the People’s Princess, from the divorce to her death; as it happens, my mother had embraced her as one of her own.

So naturally, my mother – and a lot of mothers – extended their motherliness towards Diana’s sons. Prince William got married, and my mother remarked on Kate Middleton’s beauty and, inevitably, her wish that Diana could have been there to see it; and this November, when Clarence House, the official residence of Prince Charles, announced Prince Harry’s engagement to actress Meghan Markle, she beamed and said, “It’s the last one!” as if the last of her own two children were finally married.

So where do I fit into this? I wasn’t born yet when Princess Diana died, and I was a little too young and in the closet to care very much about the first royal wedding I was really exposed to. And I guess as a result I’ve spent much of my life not really caring about the royal family in that sense. But this particular engagement is different, especially as a Northwestern student; she’s one of us. She’s a humanitarian, an international studies double major, a Kappa, a Black woman, an actress and drop-dead gorgeous – and she’s one of us.

And maybe that’s why I suddenly love her so much. She’s the second coming of the People’s Princess, which – yes, I know, I’m a gay man waxing dramatic about a goddamn princess. The cliché is truly outstanding. But still. Partly because I think everyone wants to be at least a little bit royal, and partly because she’s a Wildcat who’s done some really cool shit in her life, I’m proud to say she’s one of us.

And we’re, like, totally the first school in the country to have a princess as an alum.