If you have a dysfunctional family or if you are the dysfunctional member of your family your adventures (and misadventures…) usually remain confined in the private realm. You may find solace confiding to your closest friends your woes and your difficulties, or gossiping about certain situations. But the family feuds and awkward moments constituting your personal drama remain contained and, usually, they do not spill over into the public sphere, attracting media attention and becoming part of the larger cultural conversation.
The British royals are a dysfunctional family aggravating not just their own country, but the entire world. Let's admit it, most of us couldn't care less. When I was a little girl, I was sold the fable of the beautiful princess marrying a prince. Even Italian children’s magazines encouraged the idiocy: Il corriere dei piccoli offered its young readers a crafty cutout of the wedding cortege, so that you could recreate it with paper. At the time I watched enthralled, but I had persistent doubts about the beautiful princess who, in my eyes, wasn't marrying a magical frog with the potential of turning into a romantic prince, but a man who looked like a horse. My doubts were eventually confirmed by the tragic developments of the story that disappointingly proved me that fantasy tales involving fantabulous princesses and happy endings are exactly that - fairy tales.
Now, no matter where you are, we are all being involved in King Charles III's coronation as heads of different states are going to the grand event. Hence, we are all collectively subjected to constant royal coverage. By now, we have learnt all the most frivolous details, from the chrism oil used to anoint him being mixed in Jerusalem, to the bejeweled sceptre, orb, swords, bracelets of "sincerity" and "wisdom" (I know, that's an oxymoron in the case of the royals…) and the supertunica, which, despite its fancy name worthy of a Marvel superhero, is just George V's dazzling coat made of gold silk (the prefix "super" in this case comes from Latin and means "over", "above", it indicates indeed an outer garment, and not a tunic with superpowers; yes, I know, once again we are very disappointed).
Mind you, while this is another useless display of pomp, at least it's shorter compared to Queen Elizabeth II's funeral and the extended mourning session preceding and following it. But there are ways to tune out of the royal dysfunctionality - it's called Pikari Mai! and it's a browser plug-in devised by a Māori artist (ringatoi), Hāmiora Bailey.
"For Indigenous people, the fanfare and coverage surrounding the royal coronation is more than just annoying," the plug-in website states. "So Tangata Whenua (People Of the Land) of Aotearoa (New Zealand) have created Pīkari Mai, a desktop-only plug-in that lets people switch off the toff, by replacing royal gossip with Indigenous news from around the world."
Basically, you download it for free from Google Chrome and Firefox, install it and the plug-in scans all the webpages for keywords and images connected with the royals substituting all the stories about the British royals with Indigenous articles sourced from multiple news publishers in Aotearoa (New Zealand). Royals content written by Māori will continue to appear. The plug-in was created in partnership with ad agency Colenso BBDO in less than a week.
The incessant coverage of the royals has been dominating headlines across the globe, especially in New Zealand, where King Charles is the country's ceremonial head of state. However, it's worth remembering that the Māori people never actually relinquished their sovereignty to the crown, and, to this day, the nation still struggles to come to terms with the brutal scars of a violent colonial past.
This week Indigenous leaders and politicians across the Commonwealth wrote a letter to King Charles III, urging him to start a process towards "a formal apology" for the damaging effects of British colonization. In addition, the letter requested that the British crown take steps towards reparatory justice by redistributing wealth and returning valuable artifacts and human remains.
There is obviously more behind the plug-in than just the will to switch off the royal shenanigans: this is indeed a way for Bailey to raise the profile of Māori writers and make a comment about the attempt to erase Māori culture in Aotearoa. Indeed, Māori journalists and authors are less than 10 percent of the country's journalists. By giving priority to Māori stories, Bailey emphasizes the importance of cultural diversity in the media, advocating for prioritizing Indigenous news and cultural content.
Obviously, there are various ways to opt out of the royal events: switch off the TV, avoid your smartphone or reconnect with the outside world by talking a stroll in a secluded area. Another way to avoid all the royal noise is listening to The Proclaimers' "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)", a track banned from the official coronation celebration playlist compiled by the UK Government's Department for Digital, Culture, Media and Sport to celebrate British and Commonwealth artists ahead of the coronation after complaints about the republican views of the band (bless them). Yet Pikara Mai! is probably the best way to avoid the shenanigans, it is indeed an ironic, cheeky and witty tech-savvy artistic take on the monarchy with a punk twist added.
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