Meghan Markle, often touted as the self-proclaimed queen of humanitarian optics, made a high-profile appearance at the Altadena Teen Girls Fire Recovery Group on January 13th.
Of course, Meghan couldn’t simply make a quiet visit—after all, "lowkey" and "Meghan Markle" don’t exactly belong in the same sentence. The group, founded by 14-year-old Avery Culvert, has been diligently providing essential items like beauty products, clothing, and other necessities to teen girls displaced by the Eaton Fire. Meanwhile, Meghan made her grand entrance, carrying bags of items from Our Place, ensuring that cameras were present to document every moment of this "private" gesture. Because, of course, what would charity be without a little spotlight?
The real kicker, however, is that the donations weren’t even hers. Meghan posed with the Our Place bags, but eyewitnesses were quick to reveal that the items came directly from the company, not from Meghan’s personal collection. This is a classic Meghan move: take someone else’s generosity, slap her brand on it, and present herself as the hero. The true benefactors here? The folks at Our Place, who actually made the donation. This isn't the first time Meghan and Harry’s Archewell Foundation has been involved in what could politely be described as "pass-through" donations. Companies supply the products, and the couple swoops in to deliver them, taking credit for the entire effort. It's like being a middleman but pretending to be the source. And, of course, let’s not overlook the administrative costs—the luxury hotels, high-end outfits, and first-class flights that fundraisers like this seemingly require.
Who could forget when Meghan was called a "disaster tourist" for walking across someone’s destroyed property just for a photo opportunity? Now, it seems she’s at it again, this time with what appears to be damage control—a desperate attempt to overshadow her cringeworthy Netflix cooking show and poor public image. It’s almost like watching someone try to fight back against criticism, but doing so with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.
And then, of course, there are those buzzwords like "empowerment" and "girl power." Meghan, these girls have lost their homes. They need housing, financial aid, and real, tangible support—not just a bag of skincare products and a side of photo ops. Have you noticed that every "private" act of charity ends up being captured by the media? Isn’t it interesting how the paparazzi always seem to know exactly where to find her, yet no one seems to have a camera ready when she's with her own children? Funny how that works.
The optics of Meghan showing up with a few bags slung over her shoulder, as if she personally packed them, are a prime example of performative philanthropy. The local donation sites, which have been overwhelmed with need, are turning people away—but why let logistics ruin a perfectly staged photo opportunity? If there’s one thing Meghan excels at, it’s predictability. After the backlash from her past antics, she made sure to arrive with something—anything—to show for the cameras. But even the most casual observer can see through the act; the transparency is impossible to ignore. Perhaps the only people still buying into this performance are her die-hard fans who believe she's rewriting the rulebook on royalty.
In contrast, other celebrities like Adele and Keanu Reeves have quietly donated, without fanfare or media attention. Meghan, however, can’t resist the allure of the lens. It almost seems as if the charity work is secondary to the opportunity to reclaim the narrative. This entire act is just another chapter in Meghan’s never-ending PR playbook. She’s like the gift that keeps on giving, if by "gift" you mean regifting someone else’s efforts and pretending they are her own. At this point, the act has grown tired, the audience has moved on, and the plot hasn’t changed.
