Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Confessions (and Guilt) of a Self-Professed Anglophile:
Perhaps the best demonstration of the human, intrinsic-nature to be parasitic can be seen in our relentless pursuit of information, pictures and details of our favourite celebrities. Take it from me, a self-professed Anglophile... I know how easy is it to get caught up in the glamour and splendor of a lifestyle much different from my own. I admit, albeit somewhat embarrassingly, that I have an insatiable appetite for all things regal and almost yearn for the next magazine cover, royal sighting, online article, royal-tweet, etc., about our royals.
So why do I do this? I've asked myself this question many times and I'm not 100% sure of the answer, but I know I'm not alone. Even when I try to feign indifference, I fail. As I walk past the many, window-displayed, magazine-racks along the streets of
I can't help but quickly scan for a shot of Kate, William, Harry or jogging-Pippa! Heck even Prince Charles comes across as somewhat appealing when the alternative is Angelina Jolie! I never bought into the celebrity of Toronto and I know I never will. If it's not royal, regal or soon to be, I'm simply not interested! There are a few Hollywood Hollywood celebrities that I do enjoy and have come to love but I find they're usually people that have played the role of someone within a royal-themed movie such as Cate Blanchett, Keira Knightly, Judi Dench, Helen Mirren, etc. But my appreciation for them ends with the realization that there lives are far too painfully close to my own, minus the money!
The romance, fairytale and intrigue of royalty has captivated me for years. I think this iconic-like fixation must be hereditary in nature. I come from a healthy-line of women who love the royals, so there's a strong argument for nurture as well. I suppose I believe that anyone can be famous but not everyone can be Royal. Maybe therein lie’s the reason for their appeal. Royalty is a league reserved for a very privileged few, but we all know, all too well that privilege comes with its share of stress. I'll wager it’s our insistent need for perfection in them, our sense of entitlement in knowing everything about them, and our all-too-easy ability to judge them that is at the root of much of this stress. So how does something that seems like favour, turn to fervor? And why, when we see the damage it can do from past examples, do we continue to pursue our royals with the same zealousness?
As I digest the reality of my failings I try to convince myself that it’s not me doing harm, it’s the actions of others. You know the types… the paparazzi, the other anglophiles that blog and tweet and oh goodness… that’s me! I’m no less guilty than the next hyper-regalite I suppose!
I end with this thought... I think it’s safe to say that our fascination with the monarchy is not likely to diminish, and although our enjoyment of the royals seems good-natured and harmless, let us try to demonstrate a modicum of moderation in our never-ending-quest for all things regal. Remember… parasites eventually destroy their host... we need to develop a collective-conscience that is cognizant of the role we play as society on the people sitting on the pedestals we've elevated. We need to strike a better balance, working more in symbiosis with our host.
Long Live the Queen!
Kelly Rachelle Mathews