When Meghan revealed that she sends nightly emails to her young children as a form of a “virtual scrapbook,” critics didn’t just scoff—they erupted. The Duchess of Sussex described a simple and touching idea: documenting everyday memories in an inbox that her children, Archie and Lilibet, could one day read. It was meant as a love letter to the future. But for many in the media and public, it was just another reason to pounce.

The backlash was instant and unhinged. She was mocked for being “fake,” accused of “stealing the idea” from an anonymous internet commenter, ridiculed for supposedly not spending real time with her children, and even called delusional. Some questioned the existence of her children altogether. Others labeled her mentally unstable. One user sneered that when her kids turned 18, they’d just hit “delete.”

Let’s pause. Meghan didn’t say she emails toddlers expecting them to read the messages. She said it’s something for them to discover when they’re older—a digital time capsule, the kind many parents create with diaries or memory boxes. And yet, the internet decided this was grounds for full character assassination.

Why?

Because for Meghan, nothing is judged at face value. Every act of hers is scrutinized through a lens of distrust. If she cries, it’s “fake tears.” If she talks about jam, she’s accused of lying about making it. If she shares a picture of her kids, it’s “proof” that she’s exploiting them for PR. If she doesn’t share photos, people claim the kids don’t exist. No other woman in the public eye today is subjected to this level of surreal, obsessive critique.

What this email uproar reveals is not that Meghan is attention-seeking—but that the public cannot stop watching her, even as they claim to loathe her. The people who are most outraged by Meghan are also the ones who dissect her every sentence, listen to her every podcast, and analyze every family photo. They say they want her to go away, but they ensure she never can.

And they don’t just critique. They diagnose. She’s a narcissist. She’s a sociopath. She’s “mentally unwell.” Some even called for her to be “sectioned.” Meghan has become a cultural Rorschach test—people project their biases onto her, and no act of maternal tenderness can escape their cynicism.

Let’s be honest: this isn’t about email. It’s about identity.

Meghan is a Black woman who married into a white institution and walked away. She refuses to be silent, refuses to disappear, and refuses to bow to a monarchy that many still view as sacred. And for that, she must be punished—no matter what she says or does.

The reactions to her email habit are the perfect case study. If Kate Middleton had said she kept a diary of memories for her kids, the press would have called it “touching.” If Victoria Beckham said she writes letters to Harper every night, it would be praised as sweet. But for Meghan? It becomes a conspiracy. A performance. A crime.

The problem isn’t what Meghan is doing. It’s that Meghan is the one doing it.

And maybe, that’s exactly why she keeps sending those emails. Not for us. For them.