Client: I get so nervous going out in public.

Me: Tell me more.

Client: It feels like whatever I do, everyone else is watching and judging me. I know it’s not true, but I can’t stop thinking about how I must look weird.

Me: Oh, you are experiencing The Spotlight Effect.

Client: What’s that?

Me: It’s a paradox of humanity, really. When we’re out in public, sometimes we get so caught up in making sure we feel like we belong to one another, we hyperfixate on our differences. But the funny thing is, when we all feel like the spotlight is on us, really, there’s nowhere specific to look at for anyone.

While The Spotlight Effect is a common occurrence per social psychology, there are a few avenues I tend to look down when a client reports hypervigilance in public settings. One possible avenue I notice is family of origin, family systems, and scapegoated children. And who better to explore these themes with than one of history’s global scapegoats: Princess Margaret, Countess of Snowdon.

This week, we are looking at Ninety-Nine Glimpses of Princess Margaret by Craig Brown. The book is part-biography, part-farce as Brown reflects on the life of Princess Margaret, and her many eccentricities. Brown highlights true historical accounts before transitioning into speculation on what could have been, depending on the general understanding of the princess’s behaviors.

After all, there are countless accounts of the princess being far more than ‘difficult,’ sometimes reaching ‘cruel,’ around staff, friends, and family. This reflection will not be ignoring or excusing Margaret’s choice in behaviors, but it will be looking at what happens to someone when they are given the title, ‘Difficult,’ before having the opportunity to prove otherwise– to be the one consistently blamed for disorder in the family, no matter how loyal you try to be to the system.

What is this scapegoat I am referring to? It is a form of categorization found in family units for individuals who are positioned to absorb the shame and guilt of the family by default. In The Drama of the Gifted Child (1981), Alice Miller shares how this role often starts in childhood, as children often create false versions of ‘self,’ to perform and adapt accordingly to their family’s needs. After all, we are all hardwired with a deep desire to belong. 

Some children learn early that their role is to absorb the family’s pain, anger, or dysfunction. They become the ‘problem child’ not because they’re worse than their siblings, but because the family needs someone to carry the shadow side no one else will acknowledge. This can solidify and become a typecast or stereotype for the scapegoat– think Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s character in Fleabag (2016-2019): even when she stays absolutely silent at the dinner table, people accuse her of, “making a scene.”

Whether this is true or not in the royal family’s eye, Princess Margaret is often, anecdotally, described as being the difficult disaster. Brown accounts from the very beginning that young Queen Elizabeth II was reserved, anxious, and (in Brown’s words) exhibiting OCD-like symptoms. Meanwhile, their shared nanny recognized Margaret as a big personality, pulling schemes to prank staff, and far more “difficult.” 

This stereotype continues through to her famous scandal of wishing to marry Peter Townsend. The news followed the story, the general public consumed the narrative like candy, and ultimately, Margaret chose loyalty to the Crown. She never risked the family system. But the world would not let go of the idea that she would grow bitter and resentful for not being allowed to marry her “great love.” She was shoehorned into a lose-lose situation. Either she is defamed for choosing love over duty, or she is scapegoated into the resentful royal. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

This is the scapegoat’s trap: the more you try to prove you’re not the problem, the more the family depends on you staying in that role. Margaret’s loyalty to Elizabeth, her discretion with family secrets, her willingness to absorb public ridicule—all of it reinforced the system that blamed her. She couldn’t win. The family needed her to be ‘difficult’ so everyone else could be ‘fine.’

Where does that leave someone, when no matter what they do, the world finds a negative response and a judgement of character? Well, something extremely similar to children who are cast in the role of emotional regulator as a scapegoat: hypervigilance. Miller (1981) speaks a lot on the hyper-attunement to family dysfunction, and how it leads to a scapegoat-role for adults. If you prove you’ve witnessed enough to be a threat to the dysfunction, the unit will do everything in its power to disqualify your validity. And with that constant disqualification, a person’s natural need for belonging is threatened– thus leading to chronic stress and unrest.

In addition, Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, in The Body Keeps the Score (2014), explains that chronic relational trauma—being repeatedly blamed, criticized, or rejected—creates lasting changes in the nervous system. The body learns to stay on high alert, constantly scanning for threats. For someone like Margaret, who spent 71 years under global scrutiny, her ‘difficult’ behavior—the drinking, the rudeness, the emotional volatility—wasn’t exclusively bratty. It shows a dysregulated nervous system trying to manage chronic threats.

Looking at Princess Margaret, we get accounts of her regularly setting private notes from her family on fire as a means to prevent further gossip and speculation. What we know of Princess Margaret behind closed doors is limited due to her extreme loyalty to the Crown and her family’s legacy. Nonetheless, when it came to the public eye, we all watched, waiting for an opportunity to confirm our biases: Elizabeth was the Queen, Margaret was the Disaster.

Anyone who has experienced an enmeshed family– especially while taking on the role of the scapegoat– can have additional anxieties that present as The Spotlight Effect. The difference is that the prolonged threat to our sense of belonging has left its mark; our bodies have real muscle memory on what it means to be around people and deemed not enough, simply for existing. While we can say the incongruence is the dysfunctional family’s problem, they know how to leverage the conflict to feel like a you problem: a you vs. the world problem, more specifically. And it can be extremely hard to unlearn those foundations of belief. 

The therapeutic work with scapegoat clients isn’t about convincing them they’re ‘overthinking it.’ It’s about helping them discern whether the spotlight is real, or if it is an echo of an old threat. Sometimes the answer is both. Yes, people might be watching—but not with the same critical lens your family used. Yes, you might stand out—but that doesn’t mean you’re doing something wrong. The work is learning to trust that you’re allowed to exist without constantly justifying your presence.

But before you start to ritualistically burn all evidence of personality through literal bonfires, remember: you are not a public figure forced into performing a global role. The intertwining of codependent familial regulation is not mandatory. There is a lot of research and therapies out there to help you relearn your own needs. And sometimes, it’s not a scapegoat situation, and it truly is just The Spotlight Effect.

References:

Miller, A. (1997). The drama of the gifted child: The search for the true self (Rev. ed.). Basic Books.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking.

P.S. Since we have met and reflected on a “Margaret,” I have included a picture of one titular cat: Margo. She’s named after Dame Maggie Smith/Minerva, but as time progresses, she is a Margo, MargooOooo, Margaret, Margarita, Madame, Why Do You Ignore Me, Hi Gorgeous.