Once again, a moment between Prince Harry and Meghan has been spun into a global headline—this time over a supposed “snub” at the Time 100 Summit in New York. A fleeting interaction, easily explained by logistics or the tempo of high-profile events, is now being dissected as evidence that Harry is little more than an accessory to his wife. But these narratives say far more about us than about them.

In the footage, Prince Harry is seen reaching for Meghan’s hand as they exit their vehicle. She, absorbed in greeting attendees, misses the moment. Within seconds, the scene is transformed by online commentators and body language “experts” into an emblem of emasculation, a symbolic rendering of Harry as the “spare” not just in the royal family, but in his own marriage. But let’s ask the obvious: why is Meghan expected to perform deference to prove her love?

The notion that Harry is being “left behind” hinges on a patriarchal fantasy—one where women must dim their light for their partners to shine. When a woman leads, speaks with confidence, or commands a room, it is often framed not as power but as neglect, emasculation, or manipulation. This is the lens through which Meghan’s poise and independence are so often interpreted, especially when juxtaposed against Harry’s more understated public style.

The framing is also laced with racialized undertones. A white duchess confidently navigating public life is elegant. A biracial duchess doing the same is overbearing, performative, or “fake.” Meghan’s grace under pressure is rarely afforded the benefit of neutrality. Instead, she must account for every glance, gesture, and pause, lest she be painted as the dominant force who controls, disrespects, or sidelines her husband.

Consider the contrasting treatment given to Prince William and Kate Middleton. When Kate leads in engagements or makes solo appearances, it’s considered modern. When Meghan does the same, it’s seen as proof of discord. This double standard is gendered, racialized, and deeply unfair.

It’s also worth noting the convenient timing of this “Harry is the spare again” narrative. Meghan had just given a thoughtful speech about vulnerability, parenthood, and entrepreneurial ambition. Rather than discuss the substance of her remarks or the launch of three new ventures, headlines focused on her clothing, jewelry, and supposed marital dynamics. The real message—the one Meghan actually delivered—was one of giving oneself grace while juggling immense public pressure. But that, apparently, wasn’t interesting enough.

What’s rarely acknowledged is that Harry, like Meghan, has grown beyond traditional expectations. He is not a prince bound by archaic customs but a father, husband, and advocate who has chosen a different kind of duty—one based on integrity, emotional honesty, and personal growth. Supporting his wife in her professional endeavors isn’t a downgrade—it’s partnership. It’s modern masculinity.

To suggest that he is “less than” because he isn’t dominating the stage is to misunderstand both Harry and the evolving nature of relationships. Not every gesture of quiet support is submission. Not every missed handhold is symbolic. And not every woman in the spotlight is stealing it.