Car White Tang, a seasoned professional photographer who has spent years capturing images of the royal family—including Prince Harry and Meghan Markle, even before their wedding—recently shared some intriguing insights about the Duke and Duchess of Sussex.
While he chose his words carefully, a closer look at his comments reveals a deeper sentiment about their relationship. Tang was referring to Harry and Meghan’s appearance at the Invictus Games opening ceremony in Vancouver on February 8, one of their increasingly rare joint outings that seem to coincide with media presence. During these moments, Meghan is often seen clinging to Harry, and Tang’s remarks on this dynamic were quite revealing.
Tang’s official statement was: “I never enjoy photographing them because they sure look like a fake couple.” He attempted to soften the blow by adding, “They photograph really well—genuinely, they are very demonstrative.” However, it’s the initial unfiltered comment that stands out. Coming from a photographer who has documented numerous royal couples and understands what authentic affection looks like, his instinctive reaction was to label their dynamic as contrived. That in itself speaks volumes.
The word “demonstrative” is particularly interesting in this context. We’ve all seen it—Meghan constantly holding onto Harry, maneuvering his hand for the cameras, guiding him through crowds with an unrelenting grip. Is this genuine affection, or is there something more deliberate behind it? Something calculated, even controlling? Tang elaborated further, stating that Meghan is “very handsy, very touchy with Harry,” and adding, “which is good that she hasn’t changed.” But is it really good, or does it point to a more troubling pattern?
What we are witnessing doesn’t resemble typical affectionate behavior between a couple. Instead, it aligns with a textbook example of control masked as love. Meghan is always the one initiating physical contact, repositioning Harry, steering him—maintaining an undeniable level of control. This isn’t the kind of natural chemistry we see in couples who are genuinely in sync; it’s something more strategic.
Body language experts have long pointed out the stark transformation in Harry’s demeanor since Meghan became part of his life. The once confident, mischievous prince who charmed the public has given way to a visibly uncertain man who frequently glances at his wife before speaking, as if seeking approval. He appears hesitant, almost cautious, in a way that contrasts sharply with his former self. Before Meghan, Harry was relaxed, engaging, and at ease in his royal role. Now, he appears defensive, rigid, and seemingly scripted, as though carefully adhering to a narrative crafted for him.
Tang’s remark that Harry and Meghan seem like a “fake couple” is particularly striking. Most individuals, when entering a completely new and structured environment like the royal family, make some effort to adapt. However, Meghan did not. Rather than embracing the centuries-old traditions and expectations, she sought to reshape them to fit her personal vision. Her approach suggested that she viewed the monarchy not as an institution to serve, but as a vehicle for personal gain.
From the outset, Meghan approached royal life with a celebrity mindset rather than that of a public servant. She appeared to crave the prestige without embracing the responsibility, desiring the platform without the obligations. When she realized that royal life would not provide her with unfiltered adoration and constant limelight, she shifted the narrative—convincing Harry that they were victims. She framed his family as unsupportive, the British press as hostile, and the entire system as oppressive. In doing so, she effectively rewrote his past, persuading him that the life he had known and the family he had cherished were, in reality, sources of trauma.
Tang’s comment about Meghan being “handsy” takes on a deeper significance when considering the broader context. It’s not simply about physical closeness—it’s about dominance. From the moment Meghan entered Harry’s life, she systematically distanced him from his past. His childhood friends from Eton and his military comrades faded from his circle. His once-close bond with Prince William deteriorated. His relationship with his father became strained. Even his connection to Britain itself seemed to weaken.
This follows a well-known pattern of manipulation: isolate the target from their support system, make them reliant on you, reshape their perception of past relationships as harmful, and position yourself as their sole source of truth and security. Meghan executed this strategy with remarkable precision, and Harry, already vulnerable, was the perfect candidate.
He had spent years grappling with the trauma of losing his mother, struggling to define his role as “the spare,” and searching for an identity outside of William’s shadow. Meghan offered him a compelling alternative—a narrative in which he was not merely a privileged prince but a victim of oppression, with his family cast as the antagonists. She positioned herself as the only person who truly understood him, the one who could liberate him from the supposed confines of royal life. And Harry, wounded and yearning for purpose, embraced it completely.
