Meghan Markle and Prince Harry have often been hailed as a dynamic duo of humanitarianism, frequently lauded for their charitable gestures and public declarations of goodwill.
But let’s delve deeper into their so-called “long-term partnership” with World Central Kitchen (WCK). Upon closer inspection, their involvement appears less like a steadfast commitment and more akin to a fleeting gesture—a one-night stand of philanthropy rather than a lasting relationship. In 2021, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex made headlines when they announced a generous $300,000 donation to WCK through their Archewell Foundation.
This donation was meant to fund four relief centers across the globe, promising to make a meaningful impact. The press coverage was extensive, complete with glowing headlines and public praise. Yet, for all the fanfare, this $300,000 contribution seems to have been both the beginning and the end of their financial support. According to Archewell’s Form 990 filings—official documents nonprofits are required to submit to the IRS—there were no recorded donations to WCK in 2022 or 2023. Not a cent.
Despite their public use of phrases like “long-term partnership,” the reality paints a different picture. Meghan and Harry’s engagement with WCK seems more performative than persistent. It’s as though they took the organization out for a lavish dinner, basked in the spotlight of media attention, and promptly disappeared the next morning. Meanwhile, WCK continues to do the hard work—providing meals during crises in places like the Dominican Republic, supporting COVID-19 relief efforts in India, aiding Ukrainian refugees, and recently helping wildfire victims in California. Surely, these efforts would have been an excellent opportunity for Meghan and Harry to renew their support. Instead, silence.
To their credit, Meghan and Harry did inspire some of their fans to donate to WCK in honor of their daughter Lilibet’s birthday. However, it was the fans—ordinary people—who opened their wallets, while the Sussexes themselves remained on the sidelines, presumably enjoying organic lattes. This pattern isn’t new. It seems to follow a familiar script: make a one-time splashy donation, milk the public relations benefits for as long as possible, and allow the perception of continued generosity to linger without further action. It’s akin to buying lifetime humanitarian credibility at a discount store—except the metaphorical membership card expired in 2021.
This strategy echoes similar practices by other celebrities who pledge large sums for charitable causes but raise those funds from the public instead of donating directly. In Meghan and Harry’s case, WCK received an upfront donation accompanied by lofty promises of ongoing support. However, the Sussexes’ subsequent lack of involvement raises questions about the sincerity of their commitment. Had Archewell donated more than $5,000 to WCK in 2022 or 2023, IRS regulations would have required them to disclose it. The absence of such records suggests their giving may be more calculated for PR value than rooted in genuine altruism.
For instance, Archewell’s donation patterns include a $250,000 contribution to Ashley Biden’s charity—an organization closely tied to personal and political connections—and other notable contributions seemingly aligned with award shows and high-profile events, such as the NAACP Image Awards and the Ripple of Hope Gala. These actions suggest a focus on maintaining relevance and visibility rather than prioritizing charitable impact. A particularly audacious moment came when the Sussexes reportedly requested a ride on Air Force One after Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral—a request that was swiftly denied.
Adding to this narrative is the glowing endorsement WCK’s founder once gave, praising Meghan and Harry for “running toward the struggle.” Yet, their absence since the initial donation contradicts this sentiment. The so-called partnership with WCK appears to have served its purpose for the Sussexes, allowing them to secure favorable press before moving on, leaving the kitchen to fend for itself.
In stark contrast, philanthropists like Jeff Bezos have quietly donated substantial sums to WCK, including a $100 million contribution, without the need for extravagant self-promotion. Meghan and Harry, on the other hand, amplify every modest gesture to the moon, framing their promotion of WCK as their primary form of “giving.” This approach raises concerns about whether they are more interested in appearing philanthropic than genuinely contributing to humanitarian efforts.
As we approach another fiscal year, one might hope to see a surprise donation to WCK on Archewell’s 2024 Form 990. However, given the Sussexes’ track record, the likelihood of such a development seems about as slim as Meghan’s rumored cooking show becoming Netflix’s next big hit. Until then, WCK—and the countless individuals it serves—must rely on others for the real, ongoing support they need.
