If you’ve been tuning in to Meghan Markle’s recent podcast appearances, you might think she’s living in a permanent state of bliss. She talks about “pinch me” moments, declares herself “the happiest I’ve ever been,” and smiles through staged anecdotes about her kids saying “zebra” with a British accent. But beneath the surface of carefully crafted branding lies a reality that’s much harder to curate — a trail of failed projects, lukewarm reception, and a credibility crisis that no amount of wellness jargon can fix.
Let’s start with the façade. Meghan claims to be enjoying massive wins. What wins? That remains elusive. Her Spotify podcast was cancelled after one season. Her Netflix animated show Pearl never made it to air. Her children’s book was critically panned, and her cooking show sits at a cringeworthy 3.2 on IMDb — a rating lower than The Room, if you can believe it. Yet, she speaks as if she’s scaling entrepreneurial Mount Everest. “This is what I worked so hard for,” she beams, referring to what—sprinkling flower-shaped candy on yogurt?
The real disconnect isn’t between success and failure — it’s between brand identity and brand image. Meghan wants to be seen as authentic, hardworking, and inspiring. But public perception paints her as performative, overly polished, and more concerned with controlling narrative than embracing transparency. She constantly tells us she’s happy, fulfilled, and grounded — usually the kind of sentiments that ring hollow when said too often.
Take her “11-year-old self” monologue — a favorite go-to in her self-mythologizing arsenal. She repeatedly recalls how she wrote to Procter & Gamble to change a sexist ad, a tale that has become her foundational narrative. But when every conversation conveniently loops back to how inspirational she is, it begins to sound more like a script than an authentic moment of reflection.
Then there’s the carefully staged banter with podcast host Jamie, who seems more like a paid hype woman than a curious interviewer. Jamie claims she “preps like crazy” for interviews, yet conveniently forgets to mention the over 17,000 negative comments on Meghan’s podcast. Instead, she gushes over “letters from little girls” praising Meghan for her journey from humble beginnings to duchesshood — a bizarre stretch considering Meghan married into the British royal family, one of the most privileged institutions on Earth.
And what about Harry, or “H,” as Meghan constantly calls him — a nickname so impersonal it feels more like branding than affection? When asked about her kids resembling their father, Meghan doesn’t describe any emotional or character traits — just that they still say “zebra” the British way. Touching, if emotional distance was the goal.
Meanwhile, the podcast is littered with Meghan’s attempts to direct how she’s perceived. She doesn’t wait for audiences to decide if she’s hardworking or relatable — she declares it, repeatedly. It’s the verbal equivalent of putting up your own “Employee of the Month” plaque. And yet, every over-rehearsed anecdote, every carefully edited segment, further undermines the very authenticity she’s trying to sell.
Things get even more surreal when the conversation veers into the metaphysical. Meghan and Jamie delve into psychics and spiritual mediums, discussing ghostly interactions as if they’re crucial components of personal branding. One psychic casually mentions Meghan’s father dying in front of her — only he didn’t. Fact-checks are apparently not part of the “divinely ordered” podcast planning. In a desperate attempt to sound open-minded, Meghan aligns herself with every belief system under the sun, all while curating a public image as someone grounded, spiritual, and above all, marketable.
Even their take on social media criticism is rich with irony. Meghan laments the toxicity of online discourse, while her own team allegedly scrubs negative comments and amplifies the positive ones. She positions herself as inclusive and empathetic — but only to people who say what she wants to hear. Forgiveness is a virtue she espouses, especially when referencing that infamous flower girl dress row with Kate Middleton — but she can’t help retelling it in a way that subtly casts herself as the eternal victim and Kate as the insensitive royal mean girl.
The kicker comes when Meghan is asked why she agreed to do Jamie’s podcast. The response? Something about sacred trust and connection. Just like Oprah said when she blessed the project as “divinely ordered.” Not exactly modest — and certainly not relatable.
In the end, this podcast episode — like so much of Meghan Markle’s media presence — is a masterclass in overbranding. It’s a parade of forced vulnerability, vague accomplishments, and relentless self-congratulation. Meghan wants to be seen as authentic, but her relentless need to control the narrative only underscores how artificial it all feels. She’s chasing the image of success while the world is still waiting to see the substance.
