sweetest in the gale

I kept debating what my first real long post would be over here, and wondering if I had enough new thoughts for a new Young Royals meta in me that I could debut here. But in reality the things I hold most dear about the show are already in this meta, which was originally posted to tumblr last year but has been going around a bit again over there. When I first wrote this, it felt very unpopular to suggest that the monarchy was harming Wilhelm enough that he should leave it. I think that idea has become less incendiary now, especially now that the season 3 trailer hinted at this as one of Wilhelm's major conflicts in the upcoming season. I've been having a lot of disability feelings lately, and a lot of Young Royals feelings. So here it is again, the true heart of how I feel about the show:

I’m disabled. Specifically, I have a chronic condition that began in my early twenties, and slowly got worse and worse until I was finally diagnosed at 28. I’m 31 now, and I’ve had to grieve the person I once was many times over. I used to be a dancer, I used to be an adventurous eater, I used to love to travel. My chronic pain and restrictive medical diet have taken those things away from me, piece by piece. But the thing I mainly want to talk about right now is quitting my job. At the time of my diagnosis, I had worked at my job full time for three years. For a few years after my diagnosis, I tried to remain at my job part-time, because I loved it. I worked in the music industry, and I had the best team of coworkers. I had a great work/life balance, I was never stressed about work. I looked forward to each day in the office. When I went to events and had to introduce myself during an ice-breaker, I would usually include a fact about my job. I found a lot of my identity there. All of my work directly supported musicians, which was something I was very proud of.

So I tried very, very hard to hang on to my job. My company gave out these ridiculously heavy plaques for employees who had been at the company for 5 years, and I was determined to get one. But it was really hard. I could no longer type sitting up for more than a few minutes, so I did every day from my lap desk in bed. (This is still where I write all of my fic and meta!) I struggled to talk to customers on the phone while I was in pain. The office was closed because of the pandemic, but I would have had to work from home regardless because I couldn’t handle the commute. Every day was a slog. And my pain and fatigue weren’t getting better. In fact they were continuing to get worse as time went on. Finally, my five-year work anniversary arrived. I made it, but I felt like a runner barely stumbling over the finish line. It was the end of 2021. I talked with my friends and my therapist and my disability benefits lawyer. “I don’t think I can keep working,” I would say. And then I would cry, because the thought of letting go of this last part of my identity, when my illness had already taken so much, was so horrible.

After several months of deliberating and grieving, I quit. My boss begged me to reconsider (God bless him, honestly). Was there anything he could do to better accommodate my needs? Could I work a different schedule to let me sleep more? Could I work freelance on specific projects they really needed me on? I wanted to say yes so badly. But I knew. The longer I held on, the more I fought, the worse my health would become. And the worse my health would become, the more I would struggle with work. The joy I had felt during my first three years in that office had already drained away. I was fighting just to get through each day, and I didn’t want to fight anymore.

I recognize that having the resources and disability benefits to even consider quitting is a huge privilege. There are a lot of disabled and chronically ill folks who struggle through work at great detriment to their health because they can’t afford not to keep working. So I recognize how lucky I was to be able to quit. I am so grateful for that option, even as I mourn all the things I have lost.

In my meta about Simon, I talked about radical acceptance and how it has been my guiding light as a disabled person. Embracing radical acceptance means that I have done my best to accept what I can and cannot do, and what I can and cannot control, without judgment. I accepted that I needed to walk away from my job. But how was I supposed to define myself without it?

Capitalism defines most peoples’ self-identity, whether they realize it or not. We identify with our jobs, or with the “grind” culture, or with the moral goodness associated with working hard. But here I was, without a job. And I had my whole adult life ahead of me. I had to find a way to make a new identity outside of work.

Around this time, I started to gravitate towards stories where characters are faced with similar decisions, even if I didn’t realize it yet. And let me tell you, there aren’t many of them.

@bluedalahorse and I talk about this a lot. In our ultra-franchised world, the point of stories, even those that are supposedly about rebellions, is often to return characters to the status quo, so that the next movie/comic/episode can pick back up where the last one left off. And when there is a significant change in the status quo, it is usually because the characters worked, and pushed, and struggled to achieve that change. It’s very rare to see a story about someone who walked away from something that was harming them. It’s rarer still to find something that deals with the aftermath, as characters work to re-establish themselves.

I’ve found a lot of comfort in true stories of people leaving cults and high demand religions, and of queer people forced to leave their conservative families behind. In all of these cases, people are consciously abandoning a predominant belief system that is harming them, and have to start over as they craft their new sense of identity. (I am also queer, which adds an additional level of connection). Often people in these situations come to rely on their found family, a thing I have also found to be true in my own life.

I quit my job in between seasons 1 and 2 of Young Royals, and I don’t think I realized how many themes connected my experience to Wilhelm’s until I was watching season 2. Wilhelm is the protagonist of Young Royals, and his central dramatic question has always been: will he fulfill his duty as a royal? Or will he quit, and discover who he is beyond the system he was raised in? Simon is a huge part of this decision, obviously, but the question has never been strictly about Simon.

While I have no personal experience with the monarchy, I do know what it’s like to consider walking away from a role that you assumed you would fill for the rest of your life. I know what it’s like to think about quitting your job.

There’s so much pressure on Wilhelm to assume the role of perfect Crown Prince. He’s told constantly—by Kristina, by Jan-Olof, by the court-- that he can’t let his family or his country down by deviating from this role in any way.

This is a pretty common experience for people who are trying to quit something. They are told that they will let down those around them if they leave. People who are leaving high demand religions are told that they will not be able to enter heaven. Queer people in conservative families are told they can’t come out because “it would break [elderly relative]’s heart and kill them.” When I quit my job, I thought a lot about how I’d be letting down my coworkers and everyone who knew me as a hyper-competent career-driven person.(This included some of my doctors by the way, who expressed their disappointment in my failure to adhere to their idea of a “worthy” disabled person, i.e. someone who soldiered through the pain and continued to work. Some withdrew care because of this and honestly I will never forgive them). And maybe I was letting people down, and maybe ex-Mormons really will spend the afterlife in outer darkness, and maybe all the grandmas of queer people will be so upset that they kick the bucket when their grandkids come out. But ultimately, if your happiness or safety or well being depends on leaving, it doesn’t really matter. You have to do it anyway. You have to abandon the things that you can no longer carry. You have to discover who you are on the other side of religion, of the closet, of capitalism.

I think about this every time people in the fandom talk about how Wilhelm leaving the line of succession will create a constitutional crisis, or impact all of Sweden negatively. I am personally pretty anti-monarchist, but I honestly can’t even tell you if I think that Wilhelm removing himself from the line of succession would bring about the end of the Swedish monarchy or not. Honestly, I don’t really care. I care about Wilhelm. I want him to seek happiness, to search for the future that must live on the other side of this oppressive system he finds himself in. A constitutional crisis? That’s Kristina’s problem, that’s Jan-Olof’s problem, that’s the government’s problem. Radical acceptance means focusing on the things you can control, and Wilhelm can only control his own happiness.

When this issue gets debated, I often see people argue that Wilhelm is too young to make the decision to give up the throne. But the reality is that we ask teenagers to make decisions about their futures all the time. @bluedalahorse wrote a great piece of meta about that here. I love what she said so much I’m going to quote it directly:


And if Wilhelm is too young to decide to give up the throne, how can he be old enough to decide to keep it? Surely the decision to take on the governance of a country, even in a symbolic way, requires as much, if not more, maturity than the decision to pursue a less high-powered career elsewhere.

When people in the fandom claim that Wilhelm is too young to make this decision, I hear Kristina telling Wilhelm to wait until he’s 18 to come out, because only then will he be responsible enough to deal with the consequences. That’s a delaying tactic, and nothing more. People who don’t want you to leave will ask you to delay your decision over and over again, because they think that if they can kick the can down the road just a little farther, they’ll never have to lose you.

I also see people argue that Wilhelm isn’t qualified to make a decision because he doesn’t know enough about the “real world” to know what he is choosing. To be honest I don’t think most teenagers know much about the “real world”. I definitely didn’t. But we ask them to make decisions that will affect their futures anyway. And here’s another way to look at this: Wilhelm has plenty of places he can look to for examples of how “ordinary” people live. He can find out what it’s like to be from a noble but non-royal family from the students at Hillerska. He can talk to Simon and Linda about what their lives are like. He can read the millions of books, or watch the thousands of movies and TV shows that feature non-royal protagonists and were created by non-royal artists. But only Wilhelm knows what it is like to be Crown Prince. No one else has had that experience. So I would argue that actually, Wilhelm is the only one qualified to make this call.

Ultimately, the agency and mental capacity of people who are quitting is often doubted, usually by the people who have the most to gain by keeping them in place.

So many people have so much invested in maintaining the status quo. And as soon as you invest in a system, someone daring to leave puts your world view into question. Why are you dealing with so many oppressive rules if someone else can just leave? We see this a lot with high demand religions and cults; if someone threatens to break free, the members often join ranks and work together to pressure them to stay. What has your sacrifice as a woman in a patriarchal religion meant, for example, if another woman can decide to simply walk away? Does Kristina’s grim life of duty and sacrifice matter, if Wilhelm can just opt out and seek happiness instead?

Then of course, there are all the benefits that an oppressive system confers on its most privileged members. Those benefits are in danger of disappearing if enough people quit, so high ranking people will work to keep others in line. Think about all the people who benefit from the monarchy: all the staff who work for the royal family, all the nobles who get their reputation by proximity to the monarch, and everyone in Sweden who in general benefits from the image that a long-standing institution of white, straight, conservative power projects.

And those aren’t people Wilhelm needs to be responsible for (or should be concerned with placating, to be honest). If the monarchy fails because Wilhelm leaves, it’s because there’s always been a fault in the system. Those relying on this outdated system have signed their own fate.

No one knows fully what life will be like after they quit. That’s the radical acceptance part of quitting. You have to make a blind leap, and discover a whole new world once you land. Wilhelm is no more sheltered than anyone before they take this leap. Everyone who quits—a religion, a cult, a job—has to go through this process of rediscovery. You have to learn by doing. People do that successfully all the time, and I believe that Wilhelm can too.

When I was talking about this meta with @bluedalahorse, we talked a lot about Plato’s allegory of the cave. That story goes something like this:

Several prisoners have been kept inside a cave their entire life. They are chained to the spot, and cannot move. They are facing the back wall of the cave. Behind them is a fire, and in between them and the fire, their captors walk back and forth, casting shadows on the wall. Because the prisoners have been kept in the cave their entire life and have only ever seen shadows, they think the shadows are real. They think the only thing that exists in the world is shadows. Until one day, one of the prisoners is set free. He goes outside for the first time, where he is blinded by the sun and overwhelmed by stimulus. But he discovers the real world. He now knows that the shadows he was used to are pale imitations of the real things. He’s so excited that he goes back to tell his fellow prisoners what he has learned. But the prisoners get angry at him for challenging their world view. They don’t believe him, no matter what he says.

There are a lot of ways you can interpret this story. Some people think that Plato is talking about the role of philosophers in society. Some people use it to explain a philosophical concept he writes about elsewhere called “forms”. But I think one thing is clear. Plato didn’t write the allegory of the cave (and it didn’t stick around in human imagination for thousands of years) because he thought you should stay in the cave. Leaving the cave is hard. You will be met with resistance. But discovering the real world, when you were only seeing shadows before, is worth it.

I want Wilhelm to leave to be happy, to see the real world instead of shadows. But I also believe it’s what the story demands. It’s the only answer that makes asking the dramatic question—should Wilhelm conform or rebel?—worthwhile to me.

To be king, but to be the first gay king, would be such an unsatisfactory ending for me. It reminds me of how hard I tried to keep my job—by working from bed, by reducing my hours. My boss could do the best he could to be accommodating, but ultimately working was harming me. You can’t adapt the monarchy enough to make it a non-damaging space for Wilhelm, because there will always be people pressuring him to conform to its straight, stoic ideals. Those ideals have been around for hundreds of years, and to put all of the burden of reforming them on Wilhelm is unfair and unrealistic. If he does stay, I see him struggling to change a system that is not designed for him. Even if he does make small victories for representation or inclusion in that context, it will come at an enormous emotional cost. I just don’t think it’s worth it. Not when there’s a whole world where Wilhelm could be doing good, important work– in whatever arena he chooses– that won’t also come along with inherent emotional trauma.

Believe me, there’s a whole world to be discovered after you walk away from something that’s damaging you. You grieve, yes, but you also grow. Since quitting I’ve been able to love my friends harder, to treat myself better, to give back to the disabled community. I think if you talk to most people who have committed a similar act of radical quitting they’ll say the same thing. I want this future for Wilhelm, but I also want this kind of story to exist for all of us. I want there to be a story that represents those of us who have had to make these kinds of decisions. I want there to be a story that can encourage people who are currently wrestling with their desire to leave and the pressure to stay. And I want there to be a story that shows the hope, the bravery, and the self-belief that is required to walk away and seek a brighter future.