This morning I found myself thinking about the dazzling and the dull, all while watching season three of The Crown. It is the season where Princess Margaret travels to Washington, charms LBJ, and secures a badly needed bailout for Britain in the 1960s. Margaret comes back to her sister eager for more responsibility, more chances to prove her worth. She wants to be useful.
Prince Philip is not convinced. He tells her a story he once heard from Tommy Lascelles, the Queen’s former private secretary, about the House of Windsor as a two-headed creature. One head represents the dull monarchs: Queen Victoria, George VI, Elizabeth II. The other head represents the dazzling ones: Edward VII, Edward VIII, Princess Margaret. The dazzling ones captivate, but they are dangerous to the system.
Margaret dazzled in Washington, but she wanted to do it everywhere, all the time. That hunger for recognition and relevance shaped her life, often painfully. She could not accept being inappropriate for certain occasions. She wanted to be the royal who was right for every stage, every moment. That desire wore her down.
I understand Margaret. I am the second daughter too. I know what it feels like to fight for respect, to try to dazzle people who do not want to see you. I also know the exhaustion of constantly trying to prove your worth. At some point, I stopped. I realized that I am not appropriate for every occasion, and I do not care.
Margaret cared until the end. That is what broke her. I have made peace with it. I am inappropriate for most occasions, especially when those occasions are created to uphold systems I want to dismantle. That is the point of my work, my media company, my voice. I am dangerous to systems, and I like it that way.
Respectability politics, splitting yourself in half to please others, walking on eggshells, those are costs I refuse to keep paying. Especially when you are neurodivergent, that kind of constant self-editing steals your energy, your joy, your sanity. I am done sacrificing all of that to systems designed to contain me.
I am inappropriate for most occasions, and I finally see that as freedom, not failure. If you feel the same tug between wanting to dazzle and knowing you do not fit the mold, I hope you will stop caring too. Being inappropriate might be the most honest way to live.
