Musings on the Passing of a Monarch
As England laid their dear queen to rest on Monday, the BBC called the passing of Queen Elizabeth II: “The moment history stops.” But for this coach and correspondent from New Zealand, one of the 54 countries within the coalition of the British commonwealth, fond memories of Queen Elizabeth and the steady reassurance she offered prevail. Queen Elizabeth II also offers leadership lessons women all over can learn from, both in leadership presence and in communications. I’m outlining a few memories and musings, in this week’s Medium post.
Memories From The Valleys of South Canterbury
My earliest memories of Queen Elizabeth stem from my grandmother Margaret, a true royalist, who faithfully watched the Queen’s Boxing Day messages, televised from London to all her commonwealth constituents — and before that, via radio. I remember dressing up nicely and sitting crossed legged on my grandmother’s living room floor, sometimes with cousins, to watch the Queen’s speech. My father recalls from his boyhood gathering around a brown, leather bound radio listening with his siblings to what their Queen had to say.
My grandmother, like many in her generation, budgeted each year for expensive photo books chronicling a year in the lives of the royals, shunned any negative media attention, and felt fiercely loyal instead. Listening to her super posh voice seemed foreign and ever formal, but a steady consistency we could rely upon. Provided the Queen gave her speech, we’d had a reasonable year — and we could feel hope for the next.
I was born in 1970; so these memories stem from my third year through to my early 20s when I left New Zealand for overseas. The queen’s image dotted our currency, postage stamps, tea towels, tea pots, and calendars. Through visits, we connected with dear Queen Elizabeth who visited New Zealand at least twice in my lifetime and a total of 10 visits throughout her life. [Prince Charles and Princess Diana — with William — visited once.]
As a schoolgirl in 1981, I waited hours on a tree-lined street with my peers from St. Margaret’s college to wave to our queen as she drove by. (I chose to stand and not wave when the moment arrived, just so I could focus on her face. I felt amazed she smiled authentically, and that her gaze seemed warm and kind.) When Queen Elizabeth traveled further down south on that same trip, she stopped at Timaru, the nearest town to my grandmother’s farm where my grandmother joined other artists to welcome the queen. Lo and behold, the queen stopped where my grandmother painted sweet forget-me-nots on porcelain trinket boxes and engaged in a dialogue with her about her art. The serendipity — the pride that she chose her booth over others — and the kind way the Queen spoke became the happiest moment in her life, my grandmother often said.
To my grandmother and her generation, the Queen was someone to admire, look up to, even emulate. The infamous “uniform” we saw on our Queen in the tabloids and in those well-thumbed photo books was one my grandmother’s generation emulated (in some small measure) with delight.
A Pervasive, Queen-ish Culture
My grandmother’s era of women often wore A-line skirts and kilts, button down shirts and blouses with guernsey jerseys in the winter. Pearls, tight-ish at the neck, stayed a staple. Hair stayed bobbed and short, just like the queens. I can’t recall anyone in my grandmother nor my mother’s era not dressing up and doing their makeup and hair as soon as they woke, even if they saw nobody. This formality we learned from our Queen brought a standard of “showing up,” something we wanted to adhere to, no matter what.
Customs like afternoon and morning tea with three-tiered plates of biscuits, finger sandwiches, and sponges oozing with fresh cream and homemade jams prevailed in New Zealand homes throughout my girlhood and teens. All of this modeled the Queen’s love for the countryside and her British culture.
The well-bred South Canterburians, the bucolic province in which I grew up, also tried sounding like the Queen. “Hell-ooo! How are you?” said in a Queen-ish, posh-kind of way signaled to many: Money. Status. Well-traveled. True royalist. And for many, this branding felt good. Even when the Queen’s children’s marriages fell apart and tabloids ran any scandals, this seemed to do no harm to brand nor reputation in New Zealand. We understood: She’s a queen, not a God. She’s human — and her children too.
Things did shift. For my generation, the Queen and the culture she represented seemed a bit stodgy — mostly because of her formal, stilted language, but also because it did not feel truly New Zealand. Some questioned, especially when her family life became fraught and later when Princess Diana died, why we ought to emulate the royals at all?
A New Showing of Loyalty
New Zealand’s culture underwent steady changes which reflected this divided view of England — and our Queen. By 1984, my 14th year, New Zealand’s card makers replaced wintery scenes on Christmas cards with Santa on a surfboard and other images depicting our summery Christmas weather. We abandoned spraying fake snow on our windows to emulate what our Queen might experience on her Christmas day and stopped creating hot, five-course turkey meals on December 25 as well.
With this independent way of celebrating New Zealand as its own nation vs. a spin-off from England, Kiwis all over, including my family, started embracing their own cuisine and seasons. We finessed our barbecues with punchy marinades made from South Pacific fruits like feijoas and kiwifruit. Christmas feasts included cooled baked hams, salads, and farm-picked berries. One rebellious year, we even moved the table outside to the cooler garden. (That hot, five-course traditional British Christmas meal we hosted instead in June, our coldest month of the year, and called it a Solstice Dinner.) These seemingly small moves started planting the seed: We can love and stay loyal to our Queen, but still be our own people, too.
A New, Strategic Connection
For my generation, a new way to stay loyal to the Queen started in our college years when leaving on our OE, our “overseas experience,” an obligatory, almost mandatory roam abroad. Most employers requested travel from young New Zealand professionals before they’d take you seriously within your field. The Commonwealth connection with our Queen meant New Zealanders inherited an automatic working holiday visa in the UK — a big win for smaller countries and economies with fewer career options. Most my college friends, like many young New Zealanders, traveled in packs to London where they piled into flats, saving for epic safaris across Africa or using London as a springboard to Europe.
I resisted London and the UK — even Europe — aside from sporadic trips because I wanted something different, more foreign to the New Zealand I’d left behind. Part of this stemmed from living in Asia for part of my childhood, including Brunei, which joined the Commonwealth in 1984 and then Pakistan, which rejoined in 1989. But even in Japan, where I worked from ages 21 to 26, and now the U.S., where I’ve lived since 1996, I still relate to the UK as I do to New Zealand.
I find no coincidence that the publications I dreamt of writing for — and had the pleasure and honor of writing for — are all British. I chose the Economist magazine, out of all magazines, as a style to emulate as I trained as a younger journalist. When I visited my editors at the Economist and the Financial Times of London in their London headquarters, I felt hugely proud. I felt safe and familiar in this city and delighted in the British language I’d grown up hearing on TV with all its delightful, crisp and witty dryness. So while I chose not to live in the U.K., its culture and the leadership of its Queen has still guided me throughout my career.
Learnings on Leadership From My Queen
I promised at the top end leadership lessons from the Queen — and I feel many exist. One stems from the ability to connect to audiences remotely, something many of my coachees struggle with. The Queen was a pioneer — a true pro, because she saw no boundaries. And nor ought we. Video and phone calls still allow us to read cues, stay kind, and ask curious questions. Her royal tours also were prolific. New Zealand’s government tracks that in 1953–1954, she visited 46 centers and attended 110 functions so that 3:4 New Zealanders saw the queen. The Queen knew: Popping in now and then, on-site, can build lasting, memorable connections.
I find a lesson in personal branding from our Queen, especially as a woman, who made up for her short stature by wearing bright colors and hats so that others might notice her more easily — and she’s right. Bright colors, especially on camera, also make us seem more awake — energized, and alert. That we could recognize our Queen from her staples in hats, jewelry, Anello and Davide shoes, etc. brings comfort and consistency. I like that my clients know I wear DVF dresses and wrap tops and jewelry by Devon Leigh, because these fit my tall frame, my personality but also remain consistent.
While many, including me in my youth, often criticized the Queen’s formal tone, today I believe she stayed audience centered — and strategic. Sounding less formal would have whittled credibility as a younger woman monarch, especially at age 25 when she took the throne. Besides, that’s how she learned to speak — and how others around her spoke. So, she stayed authentic, too.
That she asked curious questions to the people she met brought warmth and charm. Often she’d ask: “Have you come far?” to those who’d probably driven from miles away. Even to my grandmother, on that visit to her country town, she asked curious questions on how she’d learned her china painting craft. That my grandmother was self taught amazed her.
I chose musings of a monarch as my topic this post as I’m saddened by an end of an era where this one constant in my life, my Queen Elizabeth II, has ended. I feel amazed by her life of service and grateful for the many fond memories and lessons I’ve learned from the culture she emerged from and upheld. May her spirit and leadership prevail.
Debbi Gardiner McCullough coaches and trains immigrant leaders to become more confident, concise, and mentally fit communicators. From Wisconsin, she owns and runs Hanging Rock Coaching and serves as a communication effectiveness fellow coach to leaders all over the globe with BetterUp.