Meghan Markle, the self-proclaimed queen of humanitarian optics, made an appearance at the Altadena Teen Girls Fire Recovery Group on January 13th. But, of course, she couldn’t just pop in quietly—Meghan Markle and low-key don’t exactly belong in the same sentence. The group, founded by 14-year-old Avery Culvert to assist teen girls displaced by the Eaton fire, has been doing meaningful work by gathering beauty products, clothing, and other essentials. Meanwhile, Meghan swooped in with bags of goodies, courtesy of Our Place, and made sure the cameras captured every second of her “private” gesture. Because, after all, what’s charity without a little spotlight?
Here’s the kicker: The donations weren’t even hers. That’s right—Meghan posed with Our Place bags, but witnesses quickly spilled the tea: the items came from the company, not her. Classic Meghan move—find someone else’s generosity, slap an “Archewell” sticker on it, and act like she’s the real MVP. In truth, the folks at Our Place should be getting the credit.
This isn’t Meghan’s first PR rodeo. Meghan and Harry’s Archewell Foundation have a long history of what’s politely referred to as “pass-through donations.” In this arrangement, companies provide the products, and the Sussexes swoop in to deliver them, taking all the credit. It’s like being a middleman but pretending to be the source. And let’s not forget about those administrative costs that eat up donations—luxury hotels, designer outfits, and first-class flights don’t pay for themselves, after all.
Remember when Meghan was called a “disaster tourist” for literally walking all over someone’s destroyed property just for a photo op? Well, it seems like she’s at it again. This latest stunt looks like damage control, a desperate attempt to overshadow her cringeworthy Netflix cooking show and poor public image. It’s like watching someone respond to criticism with the grace of a bull in a china shop.
Let’s talk about those buzzwords: empowerment, girl power. These girls lost their homes, Meghan. They need housing, money, and real support, not a bag of skincare products and a side of photo ops. Have you noticed how every one of Meghan’s so-called “private” charity acts ends up being photographed? It’s almost impressive how the paparazzi always know exactly where she’ll be, but you never see a photo of her with her own kids. Funny how that works.
And let’s not overlook the optics game. Meghan showing up with a few bags on her shoulder as if she personally packed them? Peak performative philanthropy. The locals know the deal—donation sites have been turning people away because they’re overwhelmed. But who needs logistics when you’ve got a perfectly staged photo op? If there’s one thing Meghan excels at, it’s predictability. The backlash from her previous stunts clearly got to her, so this time, she made sure to show up with something—anything—for the cameras. But it’s so transparent; she’s not fooling anyone—well, maybe a few diehard fans who still think she’s rewriting the rulebook on royalty.
Meanwhile, celebrities like Adele and Keanu Reeves have donated without any fuss or fanfare. But Meghan? She can’t resist the allure of the lens. It’s almost as if the charity work is secondary to the opportunity to control the narrative. This whole episode 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’re your own. At this point, the act is tired, the audience is over it, and the plot hasn’t changed.
