We thought we were in for a simple, fun afternoon when we joined Brighton’s Halloween-style “Dress British” parade. My daughter beamed in a tiny Queen Elizabeth gown, complete with embroidered corgis on her sash. My son marched proudly beside her, decked out as a royal guard with a tall bearskin hat and a plastic rifle. Passersby smiled, tourists snapped photos, and someone even handed the kids tea biscuits. It felt like one of those memorable parenting moments—until we reached the town square.
There, an older woman stood alone, wrapped in a heavy coat and tight scarf. Her eyes fixed on my children with a sharpness that caught me off guard. “Excuse me,” she said abruptly, “I hope you’re not teaching them to celebrate the monarchy.” I blinked, unsure how to respond. She launched into a pointed lecture about power, privilege, and colonialism, accusing me of glorifying a history filled with oppression. My cheeks flushed as she questioned whether I understood the darker side of the crown.
I kept my voice steady. “They’re just kids in costumes—they don’t fully grasp that history yet.” She scoffed. “That’s exactly the problem—you’re handing them pageantry without context.” Before I could answer, my daughter twirled happily, loving her dress. The woman’s expression softened for a moment, then hardened again. “Exactly my point,” she muttered before disappearing into the crowd.
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