At the glamorous Time 100 Gala, an unexpected moment unfolded that turned a routine red carpet interaction into a full-blown cultural flashpoint. Olympic icon Simone Biles, hailed as the most decorated gymnast in U.S. history, appeared to brush past Meghan Markle, the Duchess of Sussex, in a way that sparked instant speculation and subtle outrage.
Cameras were rolling, flashes were popping, and the buzz of excitement gave way to collective murmurs when Biles seemed to bypass Markle entirely, refusing to refer to her by her royal title. Observers claim Meghan’s facial expression froze in that instant, her carefully curated smile disappearing as tension quietly rippled through the air. Behind the scenes, whispers later described a flurry of restrained frustration from the former royal, suggesting that this seemingly minor moment struck a nerve much deeper than the cameras could capture.
Why would someone like Simone Biles, typically associated with humility, grace, and respectful diplomacy, deliver what some perceived as a deliberate snub? Was it a personal slight aimed directly at Meghan, or did it represent something larger—a subtle but firm pushback against the continued relevance of royal titles in a country that famously rejected monarchy centuries ago?
The answer, or at least the interpretation, would depend greatly on what you believe about power, authenticity, and the evolving role of status in modern society. Reportedly, Meghan Markle’s reaction behind closed doors added another layer of complexity, with alleged remarks and backstage behavior suggesting a woman deeply unsettled by what others may have dismissed as a harmless comment.
This wasn’t a shouting match or a tabloid meltdown. Instead, it was the kind of quiet, almost imperceptible exchange that carries the weight of decades of symbolism. The whole thing may have lasted less than thirty seconds, but in that half-minute, two vastly different representations of modern female power stood side by side—and then, diverged.
The exchange, or lack thereof, happened during one of the most prestigious events of the year: the Time 100 Gala, a gathering that spotlights not just celebrities, but global figures of real consequence. It was a night designed to celebrate influence, impact, and innovation. And yet, amid all that, the moment that seized public attention was one of omission. A title not used. A glance not returned. A hierarchy quietly challenged.
Meghan Markle walked the carpet in a stunning navy gown that seemed designed to remind the world that she still matters—that she remains a figure of significance and grace even after exiting the royal family. Her posture was immaculate, her look regal, her demeanor composed but unmistakably intense. She was there to embody not just celebrity, but nobility, to make a case that the title she retained—Duchess of Sussex—still held weight, still deserved acknowledgment. And then, with effortless poise, Simone Biles stepped into view. Wearing a minimalist white dress that matched her grounded demeanor, she projected a different kind of confidence. Not the polished, curated elegance of royalty, but the unshakable calm of someone who knows her worth is unshakable because it’s self-made.
When a reporter addressed Meghan as “The Duchess of Sussex” and turned to Simone to ask what she calls the royal, Biles simply replied with a gentle smile, “I just call her Meghan.” The room shifted. It was a simple response, said casually and without malice, but it carried the force of something deeper—a quiet refusal to play by the rules of aristocratic tradition. In that moment, Meghan’s title—which has been both her shield and her brand since marrying Prince Harry—was stripped of its power by the sheer indifference of someone whose accolades come not from lineage or legacy, but from sheer grit and talent. This wasn’t about disrespect. It was about redefining what respect means in today’s world.
For Meghan Markle, titles have never been mere decoration. They have been essential to her identity since she entered the House of Windsor. Born in America, raised as a working actress, she was never supposed to enter royalty. But she did—and once she did, the Duchess title became a kind of armor, protecting her from the relentless scrutiny of the British press and elevating her beyond the noisy chaos of everyday fame. It represented dignity, legacy, protection, and power in a world that often denies those things to women of color. Even after stepping back from royal duties, Meghan clung to her title. It graced book covers, podcast logos, and press releases. She was no longer just Meghan Markle; she was the Duchess of Sussex. A symbol. A brand. A statement.
But not everyone buys into that brand. Simone Biles, for instance, didn’t earn her acclaim by marrying into anything. She earned it through years of sacrifice, discipline, and a trailblazing career that rewrote what athletic excellence looks like. Her fame wasn’t gifted. It was won. When Biles chose not to call Meghan by her title, she did more than make a personal choice—she challenged a narrative. She highlighted a divide between earned merit and inherited status, between constructed prestige and lived achievement. Her words—or lack of reverence—put a spotlight on the growing cultural shift away from titles as status markers.
This wasn’t just a red carpet awkwardness; it was a symbolic collision between two competing visions of modern power. Meghan Markle represents a hybrid identity: part royalty, part media mogul, part activist. But that dual identity—regal yet relatable—has always been fragile. Simone Biles, by contrast, has no identity crisis. She knows exactly who she is: not because of who she’s married, but because of what she’s done. In choosing to forgo the royal formalities, she forced Meghan into a reality where those titles no longer command universal deference.
The backlash—or rather, the online debate that followed—was swift. Social media split down familiar lines. Some viewed Biles’ comment as disrespectful, dismissive, or tone-deaf. Others celebrated it as a bold assertion of modern egalitarian values. But more than anything, it highlighted the underlying question that has followed Meghan since “Megxit”: if you voluntarily leave the royal family, can you still claim its privileges? Can you simultaneously reject the institution and carry its perks? Can you be an outsider and an insider at the same time? Biles’ shrug seemed to say no.
Simone’s choice resonated not because it was confrontational, but because it was so effortlessly honest. In an era where authenticity increasingly trumps status, she stood as a reminder that influence doesn’t require ceremony. It doesn’t require crowns or castles or centuries-old titles. It requires something real—something earned. And that’s what stung. Meghan has carefully constructed an identity that blends glamour, legacy, and personal struggle. But when someone like Biles—a symbol of raw talent and resilience—shrugs off the royal title, that identity begins to wobble.
It wasn’t an attack. It wasn’t even necessarily personal. It was a quiet signal from one of the most respected athletes in the world that titles don’t impress everyone. Not in America. Not in 2025. For Meghan, who has relied so heavily on the gravitas that comes with “Duchess of Sussex,” the moment was destabilizing because it suggested that the mystique may be wearing off. And for those watching, it posed a deeper question: what happens when the world stops playing along?
Simone Biles may not have meant to challenge an entire system of inherited privilege, but in those few seconds, that’s exactly what she did. And she did it with no grand gesture, no critique, no performance. Just a smile. Just a sentence. “I just call her Meghan.” It was more than a name. It was a mirror held up to a woman who has spent years trying to balance authenticity with aristocracy. And in that reflection, we saw a shifting world where names matter more than titles, where earned greatness overshadows inherited symbolism, and where not everyone will bow—not even with the cameras watching.