The Kennedy family has long been shrouded in a mystique that blends tragedy, glamour, and an almost mythical allure. But here’s where it gets haunting: the so-called 'Kennedy curse' isn’t just a legend—it’s a narrative fueled by real, heart-wrenching losses that continue to captivate the public. And this is the part most people miss: it’s not just the high-profile assassinations that define their story, but the quieter, more personal tragedies that keep America glued to their every move. From President John F. Kennedy’s assassination over 60 years ago to the untimely deaths of John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette in a 1999 plane crash, the Kennedys have become a symbol of both American royalty and inexplicable sorrow.
But let’s dive deeper into the controversy. Is the fascination with the Kennedys a tribute—or exploitation? Former President Donald Trump, for instance, seems to be both obsessed and opportunistic. He ordered the release of tens of thousands of FBI documents related to JFK’s assassination, a move that reignited public interest. Yet, his decision to appoint Robert F. Kennedy Jr., a known anti-vaxxer, as health secretary sparked outrage. Even JFK’s grandson, Jack Schlossberg, called out Trump’s actions, accusing him of 'caging' a Kennedy for political gain. Schlossberg, now running for a U.S. House seat in New York, has become a vocal protector of his family’s legacy, criticizing those who profit from their pain.
The latest target of his ire? Hollywood producer Ryan Murphy, whose new series Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. and Carolyn Bessette has raised eyebrows. But here’s the question: Is retelling their story a tribute to their legacy, or a crass attempt to capitalize on tragedy? Schlossberg argues the latter, stating, 'What I don’t think is great is profiting off of it in a grotesque way.'
John F. Kennedy Jr. grew up in the shadow of his assassinated father, a man he barely knew. His life was a delicate balance between privilege and pressure, as historian Steven M. Gillon notes in America’s Reluctant Prince. Despite his wealth, charm, and connections, John struggled to forge his own identity. His launch of George magazine in 1995 was a bold attempt to carve out his own success, even though he had little journalistic experience. 'We stuck with the idea even after being told it was nearly impossible,' he wrote in the inaugural issue. Yet, his mother, Jackie Kennedy, famously quipped, 'John, is it going to be the Mad magazine of politics?'
Enter Carolyn Bessette, the woman who initially ignored John’s advances—a rarity in a world where no one said no to the Kennedy heir. Their romance was glamorous but fraught, scrutinized relentlessly by the media. And this is the part most people miss: Carolyn wasn’t just a fashion icon; she was a woman trying to navigate a relationship under the microscope of public obsession. As J. Randy Taraborrelli writes in The Kennedy Heirs, Carolyn felt 'hunted' by the press, with every sour expression interpreted as unhappiness.
Their lives were cut short on July 16, 1999, when John, piloting a plane, crashed off Martha’s Vineyard, killing himself, Carolyn, and her sister Lauren. The National Transportation Safety Board concluded that spatial disorientation and poor visibility led to the crash. But here’s the controversial question: Was John’s decision to fly that night reckless, or just another example of the Kennedys’ willingness to take risks? Historian Steve Gillon calls it 'reckless,' but others argue it’s part of the family’s fearless spirit.
Now, with Murphy’s series reintroducing the Kennedys to a new generation, the debate rages on. Critics have already dissected every detail, from Carolyn’s hair color to her Birkin bag. Is this scrutiny a sign of respect—or voyeurism? For the surviving Kennedys, it’s a stark reminder that their pain is never truly private. As Senator Edward 'Teddy' Kennedy said in his eulogy for John, 'From the first day of his life, John seemed to belong not only to our family, but to the American family.'
What do you think? Is the public’s fascination with the Kennedys a tribute to their legacy, or a form of exploitation? Does retelling their story honor them—or profit from their pain? Let’s keep the conversation going in the comments.
