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It’s finally time.
I have been thinking about this moment and preparing for it almost since the day I went back to Vermont, six months ago, and now that it’s here, I don’t feel nervousness or fear. I don’t even want to get it over with quickly.
All I feel is ready.
I do the whole slowly-walking-down-the-stairs-from-the-plane thing, and the reporters snap about a billion clicks of me. They are all smiles as they call my name: I gave them the photo op of their career. The Crown Princess arriving back home after nearly being assassinated, and looking all kinds of different, her clothes most decidedly un-beige, her afro tall and proud, her body toned and tall and straight.
I wouldn’t need to say a thing; these pictures will say what I want to say within seconds. ‘I am back and I will not be afraid,’ that’s what I hope they will say.
But when I reach down, after accepting the flowers and welcoming speeches that have been prepared for me (I know the drill, this has been happening as long as I’ve been alive), I don’t get inside the waiting car. I stand my ground and motion to my guards for a microphone.
It's not usual for a royal—or anyone, really—to make a speech after a flight, right there in the airport. I don’t care. I don’t care that this should have been planned, and teat the PR teams would say there should be more formal and important people here to witness it. I know it’s being broadcast to the whole of Asteria (not to mention the world), and that it will reach everyone it needs to reach. Maybe it will be better to speak right now, fresh off the plane, before I’m back at the palace: no one will sway me either way, or try change my mind about what I want to say.
I decided that I would say these words the minute I stepped foot in Asteria again. So that’s what I’m going to do.
As soon as they’ve set me up with the sound system and performed their security check, I take my place to face the crowd.
My eyes travel over the children lined up in the first row, the civilians waving their flags, the line of guards in front of them, containing them, the reporters, the flashes, the lifted phones recording every single second.
I step up, in front of everybody, and I open my mouth.
“Dear citizens of Asteria, I am so glad to be seeing you again after all these months. I have missed Asteria so much. I come from a transatlantic flight, and should go home to rest, but here is the thing: people died for me to be alive right now. Brave people sacrificed themselves for this country, for me, and for peace. National heroes who prevented a war, and saved me. And saved us all.” My voice shakes a little with emotion, but I don’t try to hold it back. Let everyone hear. Let everyone see. “People have died so that I can be standing in front of you, and I have vowed not to waste a second of this life. I have vowed to live out my gratefulness to them and their families, not only in words but also in actions. That is why I am standing in front of you and addressing you the minute I reached my homeland, Asteria.”
I look around at my guards. They are all wearing frowns, on edge.
So many people tried to dissuade me from giving an address right out of the plane. Advisors and guards insisted that it might be too dangerous, that a shooter might be here, lying in wait among the crowds. ‘The quicker we get you in the car, Your Highness, the better,’ they said.
But I made a promise to myself, and I intend to keep it. So I turn my head to this side and that, surveying the crowds, and I say:
“First of all, let me get this out of the way: If a shooter is here, let him shoot. It won’t be the first time.”
Surprised gasps erupt in the audience, and then quiet laughter. I keep going.
“I am returning today to Asteria in the hopes of resuming my duties by the side of my father the king, as Crown Princess. I wanted everyone to see that I am alive and also, that I am different from what some people might want to think a princess should look like, or from what they’re used to.” My hair clouds around my face as I proudly sport my afro, forever remembering the look on Marco’s face after I had come out of that salon. I’ve had it for months now. I’m used to it. “But one thing I am not, is weak. And I will not hide, and I will not be afraid. I will also not stay away from the truth. I will make mistakes, but, by the grace of God, I will do good as well. I intend to do a lot of good. To make their sacrifice worthy. And I might be young, but I don’t know how much time I may have. The men who died at the brutal attack in Burlington had so much life left to live, but they gave it up for a worthy purpose, in order to protect you and me. This, this ismyworthy purpose. I am giving it my life. And it starts today.”
I stop to take a breath. Usually, there is a glass of water next to me when I speak, my words written on a cue or at least a piece of paper in front of me, and people lined up around me in case I forget my lines.
But today, I’m wearing a pant suit I changed into on the plane just for this address, and there are no words prepared except in my head. I have said most of what I’d prepared, but here comes the hard part.
Here comes the part for which I’ll need to be brave.
Can I be brave?Thatbrave? I guess we’ll find out.
“To my half-siblings,” I start, and I can just feel everyone in the crowd freeze. You can cut the air with a knife. No one has addressed the issue so far, mainly because it remains legally unresolved, but it still involves people. Real, actual, breathing people. And if no one else will talk to them, I will.
“I thought it was time someone spoke to you, about you. And here is what I want to say: I acknowledge your existence. I acknowledge your pain. I acknowledge your bitterness. Being ignored is one of the greatest wounds a human being can receive. And you were ignored for so many years. I cannot even imagine what that must do to the human psyche. How it destroyed your souls and the souls of your mothers. I acknowledge your existence today, and I celebrate it. You are my siblings, and I am your sister. This is your family, and you are welcome here any time, no matter what. I cannot pretend that I know how you must feel, but I have been through a lot of pain myself. It’s no fun.”
Someone in the audience laughs, and others follow.
“But I’ll say that all the pain was worth it, if it brought me to you. To my family. You have said so many times that things need to change, and I whole-heartedly agree. If you’ll have me, I want to be part of you and for you to be part of me. Part of my life and my work. I don’t know what that work will be yet, but I know what it will be towards: change. Nothing is needed more at this point than change, this much is obvious. So, to all my siblings, whoever they are: You are welcome here. You are welcome in my life. Power corrupts, but it’s not power that’s the problem. It’s not the lies. Lies do not exist without people to tell them. I acknowledge the lies of my father and the harm they have done. I refuse to be part of them, even by omission. I refuse to contribute to them, even by staying silent. I want to say, standing here today, that I acknowledge my half-siblings and that I am one of them. I am more half than they are: I am zero. But maybe together, all these broken pieces of a broken word, can create something good. And I invite you, my siblings, whoever you are, to be a part of it. It will be my honor, and even though I have known privilege my whole life, this is the first time that I understand, fully, the meaning of the word, when I say: It will be my privilege to be your sister. Thank you.”
I wanted to say a few closing words in the end, about how proud I am to be an Asterian and things like that, but I’m not allowed.
Such a roar of applause starts from the crowd, the sound reaching me in waves that gather power as it keeps going, that my voice is drowned in them. The guards turn around and struggle to contain the people who are bursting at the seams of their tight line, reaching their arms out to me, rushing to be allowed to run to me. To embrace me, I hope. They are all smiling and clapping.
This is not an angry mob.
This is a happy crowd. I know the difference by now.
