As I assume you've noticed, The Queen died last week after 70 years as the reigning monarch. In that time, she saw a lot, including:
You've probably also noticed the mixed response across the world to the her death. While loyal monarchists remain, many people are asking challenging questions about Crown legacy, surfacing grief and anger over a bloody history of enslavement and colonisation.
As The Conversation pointedly explains: "She became Queen while on a royal visit to Kenya in 1952. After she left, the colony descended into one of the worst conflicts of the British colonial period. Declaring a state of emergency in October 1952, the British would go on to kill tens of thousands of Kenyans before it was over."
This article by NPR notes that when Queen Elizabeth II took the throne in 1952, more than a quarter of the world's population (more than 700 million people) was under British imperial power, across Africa, Asia, the Middle East and the Pacific islands.
"While her 70-year reign saw the British Empire become the Commonwealth of Nations — and the decline of the United Kingdom's global influence — the scars of colonialism linger. Many note the enslavement, violence and theft that defined imperial rule, and they find it difficult to separate the individual from the institution and its history."
The legacy of the British Empire shaped much of our world and while this is nothing new, the Queen's death is an inciting incident that's helped to bring these conversations to public prominence.
It's a weird time. Tribute posts and articles are going toe-to-toe with scathing exposes. New Zealand and Australia have declared public holidays, while people are writing furious social media posts in both directions. Amidst the noise, we're trying to celebrate Te Wiki o Te Reo Maori (Maori Language Week) in an effort to undo the devastating impact of British colonisation here in Aotearoa, which saw generations of Maori violently separated from their culture and language.
Brave social commentators are asking things like:
These are all critical questions for a world coming to grips with itself.
One of the loudest arguments I've seen playing out is the idea that this isn't the time.
Which is madness. Of course it's the time. Sure, it's sad someone important has died - but so have millions of people across the world, thanks to imperial rule and the bloody toll paid by those who fought for independence. If not now, when?
Inciting incidents, for novelists, are the events and plot points that set stories moving in different directions. They're the moments that upset the delicate balance of our lives, that thrust us into re-evaluation and reckoning. The moments where we have no choice but to take a closer look at things that have run unchecked and unchallenged for too long.
If we can't embrace these moments for the opportunity they offer, we never make any real progress. None of us exist independently of history, Queen or not, and the decisions made by our ancestors live on in the way we think, live - and suffer - today. When we lack the mettle to pick at our historical scabs, we deny the chance for healing, for reparation and for social, political and economic change that serves more than just the privileged few.
Every inciting incident in our lives offers us this opportunity. Whether it's a failure or a celebration, work, personal, or relationship, every plot twist is an invitation to grow, a challenge to live our stated values and to respond in ways that we can feel proud of.
If you've been leaning away from the controversy, because you think it doesn't directly affect your life, I'd love to nudge you in, just a tiny bit.
Go on. Open Twitter, read a few articles (including the links I've included above) and do a little musing of your own. You don't need to talk to anyone about it, or fight a Facebook comment war. You don't need to do anything, not yet. Your critical thought and curiosity is a meaningful contribution and, combined with the musings of others, contains the seeds of something important.
Do not underestimate the power of a collective contemplation.
Or, y'know, if in doubt: share memes.
Til next week,
A