Saraid de Silva is a Sri Lankan Pākehā writer and creative, based in Tāmaki. She works across the mediums of radio, theatre and television and is the co-founder of the podcast Conversations with My Immigrant Parents

* Peta MacGillivray's tweet inspired the headline of this piece

OPINION: Isn’t it revealing? Queen Elizabeth’s death? Isn’t it deliciously and painfully revealing?

Isn’t it fascinating to see who grew up with affection for the royal family (white people) and who grew up with hatred and mistrust for the British Empire as a whole (the rest of us)? Isn’t it disappointing how many people who claim to care about indigenous rights and land sovereignty are saying “RIP” in public. On the internet. For free? 

Of course there are many who have reason to hate the Queen and yet do not, further example of how successful the project of colonialism is, and how big the gap in perspective and understanding between generations. 

I say this not to denigrate any particular generation, all of us are ignorant of things the other is deeply acquainted with. Ask me how I know (I’m alive. Also I make a show about it).

I’m not sure I believe in Hell but if anyone deserves a place there it surely has to be Queen Elizabeth the II. The woman who negotiated a clause to exempt herself and her family from equality laws. Whose policies led to concentration camps in Kenya. Who contributed £2 million pounds to her son’s legal fees when he was charged with sexual assault. For those of us whose ancestral homes were claimed by a monarchy that decided to be in our business, this news is a celebration. 

To anyone who is concerned about why I feel so comfortable rejoicing in her death, I ask you to please look up the definitions and practices of colonialism, incest or slavery. I don’t feel at all guilty about being happy and I don’t want to waste my word count justifying it. Though I must say I’m not thrilled about her replacement. Charles is no better and sucks at dirty talk.

After years of a pandemic that has isolated us, and centuries of a colonial project that tried to divorce culture from community, I am confident that anything that brings us together is something to lean into. 

To receive jubilant calls and messages from my fellow South Asians. To be able to witness Irish twitter in general. To know how many Māori and tauiwi feel united. To hop online and witness the diaspora making each other laugh. It is comforting. We get so few moments that feel like this. 

Even speaking with my mother on Friday and hearing her perspective, her total disdain for every member of the royal family. She’s nowhere near as radical as I am. Of course she isn’t. She’s almost 60 and she’s not-a-lesbian. But she also wants the entire family to burn. It makes me so proud of who I came from.

One of my greatest memories remains an afternoon I spent in Sri Lanka with family, including my Aunty’s white husband, who defended the British Empire and was rewarded with 14 brown people exploding into laughter and making jokes at Britain’s expense for the rest of the night. 

Do you know how hard it is for families who grew up in different parts of the world, in different generations, to find one thing they all agree on? I wish I had filmed it.

Love for the queen, a sense of affection for her as someone who represents glamour and refinement, or nostalgia associated with her as a woman who apparently reminds people of their own Grandmothers (how much money does your Gran have? Can she give me some?) is everywhere too. 

But as with every other day of my life, I pay them no mind, because every piece of the British Empire that crumbles is a step in the right direction.