Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Bonsoir. Good evening.

Most of you know me as the prince of ?les de la Réverie. Son of King Simon and Queen Ava. Some of you know me from what the press writes about my life. What you see on the news and internet. But tonight, I want to tell you about the real me.

I was born on a beautiful island with a rich history. My papa taught me to bake before I could spell my own name. He taught me to knead and shape and pour my heart into creating something. My mom—who was born here, Long Beach to be specific—taught me compassion and strength. They both taught me to be the kind of person the world would respect.

My sister—the crown princess—thinks she taught me to be funny, which is why I didn't let her write this speech.

My country, my people taught me community. Resilience. My ancestors taught me that, from ashes, you can build a constellation.

I was ten years old when my papa became king. I was barely a teen when the headlines decided I wasn't worthy of my title. I didn't look or act like the type of prince they wanted.

I wasn't worth giving a chance.

Months ago, I came to America trying to be that perfect prince. Regal. Smiley. Worthy. I tried to live by their rules. To be who they wanted before I knew who I could be.

But isn't that what this journey is about? The discovery. Mistakes and growth. Love and heartbreak. Forgiveness. Making our own choices. Creating our own rules.

I come from a country that has survived centuries on traditionalism. Neutrality. While in America, I learned that tradition shouldn't mean contentment. You can't choose comfort over inconvenience. You can't be silent because it's easier.

I learned to use my voice. To stop standing aside while the world burns around me. To turn my own anger into action. It's our duty to each other to protect communities, even if they're not our own.

I learned that, despite my title, this is still my life. I get to decide how much of it I share.

People will always find a reason to hate you for what you are before they know who you are. We cannot let that stop us. Without fear, how can we ever be brave? How can we ever become who we're supposed to be without first acknowledging who we are now?

I'm here tonight to tell you this: I no longer want to be anyone else's definition of a perfect prince. A perfect human. I refuse to knead and shape and pour myself into anyone's mold. You shouldn't either. Why change who you are to fit someone else's expectations?

This is who I am—a boy who loves the ocean. Who has an insatiable sweet tooth. Who loves to laugh and be challenged and, sometimes, cares too much about his sneaker collection. I'm also moody. I make mistakes. I'm a boy who is awful at apologies.

I'm a prince, and I'm not perfect.

I'm discovering more and more about who I want to be. I hope you'll allow me that grace. I hope you'll give yourself permission to do the same.

Our legacies aren't decided today. Or tomorrow. We have the power to create our own traditions and rules.

I hope you know you're worthy, no matter who you are.