Tuesday 22nd July 2025
Blog Page 1026

You fucked her and now you’re fucked

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Since the moment Wanda had given birth, since the second Paul had known that the baby had survived, it had been impossible for the nurses, the doctors, or anyone for that matter, to diffuse the cloud of helplessness and panic that he emitted. They all left him alone now.

Paul sat with a heightened sense of living. Although he was frozen to one of the uncushioned plastic chairs that lined the walls of that grey hospital room, he felt every atom of his body vibrate with panic. At this moment, he was conscious that each and every breath he took was yet another mark of the length of time he had let pass without speaking to Wanda or looking at the child he wished they had never accidentally fucked into life.

Swaddled in white cotton and the arms of its mother, it murmured barely human sounds. Crossing both his legs and his arms, he attempted to shelter himself from the conversation that he knew was coming but wanted desperately to avoid. His mind, at present, was struggling to come to terms with what he viewed as a quickly disappearing future with any hint of independence about it. Formulating sentences was a skill that would come back to him, he assumed. For now, as he sat there living in the silences between the ticks of the wall-clock, he would be silent and think up what he could say that could possibly win him back from his life from the living accident in the arms of his girlfriend.

The baby waved its balled-up fist in the air in an irritating approximation of a victory wave. Paul gritted his teeth and looked down at his feet. “You’re fucked,” he thought. “You fucked her and now you’re fucked,” was the thought that zipped from one side of his brain to the other over and over now.

“What shall we call her?” was the purred phrase that carried across the space between the hospital bed and Paul’s hunched form. Trying to think past the background hum of his panicked thoughts, he looked up. He looked at Wanda for the first time in what must have been hours. She was a new person, in a way. No one looked the same now. Did he look the very same as he had before? Before he fully knew what he was saying, his panic pushed up an answer tainted with his grief for his own future, with the bitterness of a survivor who has watched their best friend die.

“Why not ‘Alleyway’?” he spat. “Name her after the place she was bloody conceived.”

As he said this he watched the warmth in her tired eyes fade only to be replaced by an enraged intensity.

“Don’t be such a bloody baby, Paul,” she whispered. The curl of her lip and the arch of her brow warned him not to antagonise her any further. He looked down again, unable to return her gaze.

“She’s yours too,” he heard, “She’s both of ours, and I want you to at least have some say in the name she has for the rest of her life.”

To Paul, the steel in her tone was another call to arms. He readied his weapon tongue. “I didn’t want to have it. I —”

“Her”, Wanda parried, before he could continue. He paused and re-worded. “I didn’t want to have her at all. You wanted her. You made a choice to have this life now and I wasn’t part of that choice. And I don’t want to have that life.”

As if pulled back on a bungee cord, he snapped to the back of his chair. He had spent the majority of his energy on that shout and now he quivered with adrenaline, each breath making him feel slightly sicker, each inhalation allowing more anger to mount up inside him. Wanda raised her pale head and looked down on him.

“You were part of the choice to fuck me drunk in the streets,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “And no matter what you would rather have happened, you were part of the choice I made to keep her. So for fuck’s sake, Paul, help me choose a name!”

The baby in her arms snuffled loudly, threatening to cry. As she bent her head to soothe the infant, Paul suddenly stood up, ready to storm out of the door of the room and leave. But then he stopped. His knees locked. Wanda’s eyes darted up from her child to meet his gaze. As she took in the fact that he was standing, the tension in her face left it completely. Her mouth dropped half open and her eyes widened.

“Paul, stay here.” Almost a warning, mostly a plea.

He was deaf to her. He knew that by standing up, he had constructed a divergence in the road of his life but he was held from moving. He looked to Wanda, to the life she held in her arms that he had helped make. He looked into her fear-widened eyes. And he had to look away.

He moved toward the door.

“Paul!”

He couldn’t be held back now. With his hand on the door he wrenched it open, brought himself through, and shut it behind him. He heard a muffled scream of his name through the door and it pushed him further away.

And the further he willed himself away, the safer he felt from the responsibility he had nearly had to take on. Each stride down the white, sanitized corridors of the hospital shielded him from Wanda’s cries, shielded him from his unnamed child, shielded him from his future.

He walked from the confines of the hospital into the open air and focused on the road before him. The horizon was his only destination. Yet as far as he would go, Wanda’s cries still echoed in his ears. Fear and guilt flavoured the inside of his mouth, and on the wind he seemed always to hear her beg him to stay.

Thoughts of the anonymous child in Wanda’s arms chased him down the road as his pace quickened. And confronted by these thoughts, he walked away.

Rewind: Shakespeare’s Sonnets

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On May 20 1609, Thomas Thorpe published Shake-speares Sonnets: Neuer Before Imprinted. The subtitle suggests a hint of the controversy – many believe Shakespeare never wanted the Sonnets published, and even that Thorpe may have acquired the poems by accidental or illicit means. However I feel we can forgive Thorpe for his potential misdealings: without him we may have never received some of the most beautiful and influential English poetry ever written.

What is it about the Sonnets which makes them so interesting? Partly it is the air of mystery and ambiguity that surrounds the collection. Is the speaker a fictional character, or the voice of William Shakespeare himself? Who is the Dark Lady, or the Fair Youth? Does the speaker love the latter sexually, or platonically? The Sonnets raise questions about love, relationships and gender roles.

Leaving these intellectual musings aside, the fact of the matter is that the Sonnets are wonderful poems, delightfully expressive and full of emotion. It is hard not to smile to yourself as you become immersed in Shakespeare’s language, his clever wordplay and images.

Yet these poems are not simply lofty, whimsical expressions of pure love. The Sonnets are witty and vulgar too – six sweeping declarations of passion and classical illusions are intertwined with jealousy, spite, humour, suffering and crude sexual innuendo. So many aspects of personal relationships and the human condition are found within the Sonnets.

To wax lyrical about Shakespeare’s greatness and legacy has become something of an irritating cliché, particularly since the recent 400th anniversary commemorations of his death – ‘Bardolatry’, especially at the moment, is rife.

Ignoring (if indeed one can) all his plays, influence on and contributions to the English language, just reading the Sonnets reminds you of his great skill as a poet. Is there anyone, even amongst those who have never read a line of Shakespeare, who does not experience a glimmer of recognition – and feeling – at the immortal line, ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day’? So I thank Thorpe, wherever he may be. Regardless of whether he found the Sonnets through dishonesty or by happy accident, he gave the world a masterpiece.

A Moment of Enchantment

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Photography: Richard Wakefield

Models: Angelina Eddington, Ella Harding, Ollie Antcliff & Lachlan Green

Dresses: Aspire Style

Hair & Makeup: Brothers Oxford

Creative Directing: Aini Putkonen

Dress guide to Oxford balls

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The scene plays out on a summer evening; live music electrifies the senses as couples sway back and forth in the dusky light. It’s a vision anyone would dream to be part of, and as an Oxford University student, one that can be realised. Although we are halfway through Trinity and have already experienced some amazing college balls, there are still plenty lined up for the final week of term. If you are lucky enough to be attending, you are guaranteed a night to remember and, to really complete the evening, you need a dress to match. Here are some recommendations to help you stand out from the crowd.

Queen’s ‘A Night on the Orient Express’ is set to be a truly lavish event, promising to “take you to your dream destination”, so your dress should similarly transport you to fantasy lands. Think metropolitan London, with sharp, clean lines contrasted by smoky eyes, or the Parisian-inspired deep rouges and corseted bodices of the neo burlesque. The ultimate globe-trotter may channel Middle Eastern belly-dancing with a glamourous co-ord crop top and long skirt look, or play upon the idea of the Venetian mask with overstated, stylised make-up.

Alternatively, look no further than this year’s MET Gala when attending University College’s ‘Interstellar’ Ball. Be adventurous with your outfit as you explore the “UNIVerse of unlimited possibilities”. Space-age silver may be clichéd, so why not try holographic or metallic fabrics that appear different colours in different lights? Mirror the depths of space with full skirts and graphic colour play, adding volume and drama, while the most creative of you may be influenced by the Roman goddess Venus who lends her name to the brightest planet in the night sky, by possessing her hot beauty and classical grace.

Wadham’s fresh and edgy reinvention of ‘Wonderland’ guarantees “a neon and electric futuristic” vibe. Therefore, be daring in your choices – long slits, cut outs and mesh panelling are the guests of honour, with splashes of bright colours to complete the look. A feminine or androgynous tailored suit harkens back to the novel’s Victorian background, but also puts a new spin on ball attire. Then, steal the make-up trend of the 2016 s/s runways with electric blue eyeliner to be an up-dated Alice, or make the Mad Hatter proud with fascinators and daring millinery. Glitter and coloured hair will not go amiss for the bravest attendees.

In comparison, Magdalen’s ‘1926’ Commemoration Ball’s dress code appears fairly strict, dictating “a full length evening dress”, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun with the theme. Play up Art Deco geometry and Bauhaus structuralism for bold, stand-out looks, or take a leaf out of Greta Garbo’s very fashionable book with stunning simplicity and soft-edged romanticism to pay tribute to her 1926 film debut in ‘Torrent’. Vintage and retro dresses will be prevalent at this event, so look for lace, silk and velvet textures. A trip to your local charity shop will enhance the authenticity of true glamour.

Equally guide-lined, New College’s Ball intends to honour the Oxonians “at the centre of scientific innovation throughout history”. Nobel prize-winner, Dorothy Hodgkin, was famous for her work with crystallography, so, like her, focus on the small details of structure and shape for subtle intricacies. Otherwise, follow the lead of the university’s current Visiting Professor of Astrophysics, Jocelyn Bell Burnell, with cosmological accessories or a dash of shimmer eye-shadow. Alternatively, turn to the late Anne McLaren, a biologist who was essential in developing in vitro fertilisation and cloning, with the repetition of duplicated, identical motifs.

Whichever ball you attend, don’t be afraid to show off your style, even if your only catwalk is the line for the champagne.

A very stressful lunch

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The sun is high in the sky and after a long arduous morning filled with reading and writing your stomach starts to rumble. Normally you would go to the Alternative Tuck Shop to grab a lovely artisan avocado and cheese melt on olive ciabatta (its 20p extra but well worth it), or perhaps delve into Taylors to acquire a slightly overpriced pesto chicken panini. But today you find yourself far from the culinary delights of central Oxford and are forced to venture into Tesco’s.

But before you make it in you are accosted by a disgruntled man who says something intelligible to you in what might be English and then hurls what looks like a McFlurry at you. You wouldn’t get that at Taylors but then I guess that’s what you pay the extra two pounds for. Wiping ice cream off your trainers, you approach the huge sliding doors and for the first time understand what a pig might feel being lead into an abattoir: horror, uncertainty and the feeling that this will probably end badly. Nonetheless, your hunger is simply too intense and you soldier on past the security guard who shuffles around the airlock between shop and street.

You are greeted by a cacophony of bleeps. You thank your lucky starts that sound isn’t visual as the equivalent to what you’re experiencing would be starting at a strobe light in an otherwise pitch black room. Not good for your epilepsy. With your ears slowly adjusting, you hesitantly look at the first display and are in luck to find that the sandwiches are at the front of the supermarket. With relief you begin to search for a suitable sandwich but find that you are overwhelmed by the huge selection: Salmon and cucumber, ham and cheddar, Chicken and bacon. All sound like they could be quite nice (except chicken and sweetcorn – that sounds fucking disgusting) but how can you be expected to choose one when there are so many on display?

With shaky hands you reach for the tuna and cucumber – it’s the same sandwich your grandma used to make you whenever you’d visit her in Dorset and always reminds you of carefree days at the beach and long walks in the countryside. The type of feelings that you will need to cling onto if you are to survive this testing ordeal. Sandwich in had you then begin the hunt for some water. But for some reason something is drawing you deeper and deeper into the supermarket. Before you know it you are surrounded by twenty-two different types of basmati rice and several ‘oriental-y’ sauces that would appeal to the middle class house wife looking to spice up Friday nights dinner party. As nice as Caron’s chicken tikka masala might be, you ignore all distractions and stumble onto an Evian.

Wading back through the three-for-two, buy-one-get-one-free and half price signs, you finally make it back to the bit where you pay. Here you’re subjected to more mindless advertising, insisting that you need to buy a packet of Hubba Bubba, some condoms and a twirl. It’s hard to ignore due to the meandering queue that snakes almost back to the basmati rice you’d just escaped.

By the time you get to the front you are longing for some human contact after such a sterile experience but instead you’re greeted by a machine. It’s a very fucking nosey machine at that asking me how many bags I have and whether I have Tesco clubcard. It’s also terrible at its job – I mean how unexpected can an item be if you’re a bagging area? You quickly pay using one of the seven options that they offer and run out of the store feeling slightly nauseous. You’ve made it, you’re done, you can enjoy that sandwich which is tasty and nutritious. Nevertheless, the grisly process you’ve endured to acquire it will never leave you – the two pound extra at Taylors is probably worth it.

 

The Age of Photoshop?

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As time has gone by, much of the artistry of cinema has been lost. Bigger budgets and more sophisticated CGI leave films artistically lacking, as they renounce stop motion and animatronics. But perhaps the greatest casualty of cinematic ‘progress’ has been off the screen: the hallowed ink of the movie poster.

While Old Hollywood’s shock tactics and sexism in prints such as that for King Kong leave a sour taste in the mouth, the unique fusion of paint and celluloid was revolutionised by the work of a proliferation of visionaries, such as John Alvin (Blade Runner) and Drew Struzan (Harry Potter, Star Wars and Indiana Jones). Indeed, it is Struzan’s peer, Bob Peak, whose lean, efficient panels are often credited with inventing the modern poster. His artwork for Superman and Apocalypse Now catalysed not only two of the most successful films of all time, but also the age of Hollywood as we know it.

It is thus even more tragic that New Hollywood has left this golden age of art behind. In what can only be described as the ‘Photoshop era’, hand-drawn art has been replaced by lazy click-and-drag promo shots, some of which are ‘motion posters’ to hide their artistic bankruptcy. Prime offenders Takers, X-Men: First Class and The Wolverine evoke GCSE IT projects, not legitimate art.

Yet as with any cinematic trend, it must one day die out. For the preservation of a powerful artistic medium, and the marriage of two wonderfully intertwined forms, we can only hope that Hollywood re-embraces its glorious artistic history, and leaves its folly behind.

20th Century Fox
20th Century Fox

There is, thankfully, some hope: it was heartening to see Star Wars: The Force Awakens’ flawless advertising campaign deliver awe-inspiring theatrical and teaser posters which actually brought Struzan temporarily out of retirement. Moreover, the art for this year’s 10 Cloverfield Lane is both enigmatic and haunting while, most recently, the adaptation of Assassin’s Creed scheduled for December has unleashed a glorious teaser print, overflowing with light, wonder and religiosity.

With this influx of new posters rekindling the goose bumps of old, maybe finally we are returning to posters worthy of being hung on children’s walls. We must inspire the next generation – of film-makers, yes – but also of artists.

Sophie in ’t Veld on faith groups, populists and smart integration

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Sophie in ’t Veld, Dutch MEP for the Liberal Democrats 66 party, does not mince her words. She has filed lawsuits against the US Department of Homeland Security, attacked Pope Benedict’s views on gender theory and deemed Nigel Farage’s claims as probable as a Martian invasion. When I spoke to her before a seminar at the Blavatnik School of Government, tucked away in the green room straight after her arrival, she lost no time in putting forward her opinions.

An honorary associate of the UK National Secular Society and former winner of their ‘Secularist of the Year’ award, Sophie began by outlining the increasing influence of faith groups in European governance. “At the start of European integration in the 50s, there were six countries which set up intergovernmental cooperation in the area of coal and steel, and that didn’t have a very strong ethical dimension. Today, we are over 500 million citizens, and we’re dealing with lots of ethical issues, and there are lots of policy areas with strong ethical dimensions. So ethics has become very important, and I note that the more conservative brands of religious communities have already understood this and they’re very much on top of it, but the more liberal brands of religion and humanist and atheist groups have not yet fully captured this.

“So we see that there is very strong influence from the Vatican – because they have privileged access to the institutions as a state, they don’t have to register as a lobby firm – but we have also seen a very rapid rise in the last couple of years of evangelical groups funded from the US. They are of a very conservative reactionary brand, lobbying very intensively, sometimes aggressively, and they use all the available channels.

“Although I fundamentally disagree with what these groups represent, I welcome their presence. However, I think it’s very important that other voices are heard as well. The problem is that secular voices are usually not organised: if you are a stamp collector, you may join an association for stamp collectors, but if you don’t collect stamps you’re not going to set up an association for non-stamp collectors, so it’s more difficult to get the more progressive liberal voice – which I think is dominant in most European countries – heard inside EU institutions.”

Redressing this balance is one of the motivations behind Sophie’s latest project, which draws a smile as we begin discussing it. “I’m working on something that I find very exciting. I’m the draftsperson for what we call ‘The democracy, rule of law and fundamental rights pack’, and a mechanism to enforce those three pillars of European integration. The funny thing is, if you look at the treaties, there are hundreds of pages, but it starts with Article One, which says ‘hi everybody’, and then Article Two is about our values. Article Two is really the core, but we have not got a single instrument to make sure everybody upholds those values, and we see in some countries like Hungary and Poland, but also a country like France they’re getting side-tracked and they don’t uphold the values as we would like to see them. There may be pressure on the media, or LBGTQ rights, or deportation of Roma people: we need an instrument. For me, this is one of the key issues in my 12 years as an MEP.”

Behind this project, Sophie continues, stands a broader need for integration across the EU which becomes more pressing by the day. “The debate about more or less European integration is being held in all the member states, and it’s dominated very heavily by navel-gazing. We’re completely obsessed with ourselves and how different we all our and how we couldn’t possibly work together because we’re all so different, but we’re inward looking. If we take a step back, all the major challenges in the 21st century – security, refugees, climate change, global economy – they’re all global. At the start of European integration, Europe accounted for around 20 per cent of the world’s population; today, Europe is seven per cent and shrinking as a proportion. We’re becoming less and less relevant, so we have to be smart. In my view, smart is not to be divided; smart is to join forces and do it together, and you have to do it in a democratic, transparent way but with the ability to act. If you look at how we’ve dealt with the refugee issue, it’s a disaster, but not because we can’t cope: we’re 500 million people, of course we can handle 1.5 million refugees, we can handle 3 million! The problem is that the national governments flatly refuse, so we don’t have a common policy. Now we have a disaster.”

Asked whether this debate has contributed to the recent rise of populist politicians across Europe, Sophie gives a derisory sniff. “It’s not only in Europe. The funny thing is, we somehow excepted the fact that people don’t like Europe, or we have the European Union to blame, but that doesn’t explain why we see the same process in the USA. Trump, he’s like Putin or Johnson, Farage, Le Pen; they’re all one brand, but they don’t have the EU to blame in the US so it must be something else. There’s a lot that we should change in the EU, but all-in-all we are the richest continent in the world with the highest life expectancy, best level of education, best social security system. Come on, this is the best continent in the world. It didn’t just happen to us like the weather, we did it because we did it together.

Unheard Oxford: Megan Daffern, chaplain at Jesus

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I studied classics at Exeter College. After that I had a year in West Bromwich where I was working in a Church, because I’d started to discern a vocation towards ordination while I was an undergraduate, which surprised me and my family, me more than my family I suspect. I went back to Exeter as a part time D-Phil student and a year later I needed to find another job. The job at Jesus came up and I went for it and that’s that really.

I think obviously the name of the college is quite fun, from a chaplain’s point of view. The jokes never dry up. It’s great fun being at the boathouse and being able to shout about Jesus. There’s lots of scope for humour.

I think that it has become more pressured since I was an undergraduate. I was the first year of undergraduates who had to pay fees – it was gutting! Of course they were much lower then so I am really aware that there are more pressures on students these days, partly because they’re aware how much it’s costing.

I’m here to run the things in chapel and I’m here to be a hopefully good presence in the college. So I try to make myself available to talk to students, from all faiths or none, from all backgrounds, all cultures: everyone. I like chatting with students and I like having coffees with them, as you may have noticed. And equally it’s about trying to build community: welcoming new people, building relationships, letting them know there’s someone out there who cares. So I don’t go round proselytising or anything. I do what I do because of my faith but I think people generally can trust me and come and talk to me, and I’m not going to start talking about God things – unless they want me to.

A lot of people from other faiths use the chapel as well. We have Hanukkah in there as well, that’s always nice. I know that some of our Muslim students feel content to go and use it as a quiet space. It’s a space that’s prayed in. And there’s going to be more scope for interfaith work in the future. I think there’s a real thirst for that in the college. I’m going to be thinking about events which can promote interfaith dialogue, and understanding and valuing of different faiths. I think at the present time in the world, in society, actually, that’s really important. How wonderful that we have the opportunity to do that in a safe context here; where we can really learn to value other traditions, other faiths, and none. It’s an opportunity to learn in a really unthreatening way and to have decent conversations.

Preview: The House of Bernarda Alba

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When I arrived in a sunny conference room at St Catz to watch a rehearsal of The House of Bernada Alba, I couldn’t help but feel that the cast looked a little incongruous in their head-to-toe black costumes, complete with sweeping lace shawls. As they took their positions, I wondered if a student cast could conjure the atmosphere which Lorca’s play demands without the safety net of a dark theatre. If you’re a fan of short answers, here it is: they could. The cast were on fire from the word go, fully committing to their lines with the intensity which the script demands.

The House of Bernada Alba tells the story of the widow and matriarch, Bernada Alba, who imposes eight years of mourning upon her five adult daughters (hence all the black lace, I soon discovered). Ruling the household with an iron fist, Bernada Alba is traditional to the extreme, valuing the family’s reputation above all else. The tension comes from the unseen presence of Pepe el Romano, a local man expected to marry Bernada’s eldest daughter and heiress to a fortune, Angustias. The absence of any onstage male characters allows the play to explore the jealousy, tension, and sexual longing of these oppressed sisters with heightened intensity. It soon emerges that Angustias is not the only sister with an interest in Pepe, and the remainder of the play sees gossip, scheming and lies culminate in an explosive climax.

One of the most exciting things about this production is the unusual decision to stage it in The Cellar. Curious about why he was attempting to transform the edgiest (read: dingiest) venue in Oxford into a respectable house in rural Spain, I asked director Jake Donald to explain: ‘Cellar is dark, oppressive, and unsettling. The audience needs to feel imprisoned – by the finale they should be yearning to get out’. I think we have all felt oppressed by the air in Cellar at some point during our degree, so I’m curious to see how the cast will channel that atmosphere into their performance.

I feel that student productions of very sombre plays can be risky – any overacting can immediately plunge them into the realm of absurdity. Luckily, the director has made gaining an insight into Bernada – by far the most severe character – his priority. The part is handled masterfully by Ella Jackson, whose controlled yet terrifying presence demands attention. It is worth going to see this play just to watch the audience jump as she slams her cane down ‘Darth Vader style’ (as the director jokes).

Judging from the parts that I watched, this is not the play to watch if you’re looking for light entertainment. But, if you are in the throes of exams season panic, and would relish watching someone suffer a fate worse than your own, this may be just the production for you.

Oxford must say Yes to the NUS for the sake of access

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The NUS referendum is an access issue. As the current co-chair of the Target Schools campaign and through tours, talks, Q&As, and conferences, I have come to realise which problems we face when we work on our outreach. To put it simply, access is intricately linked with class, race, gender, and higher education policy – intersecting areas on which the NUS is uniquely situated to campaign on.

The NUS, like OUSU, works tirelessly behind the scenes, with students sometimes only catching the soundbites. But no organisation can represent us quite like the NUS. This government is uprooting finance in higher education; the NUS has successfully led the charge against cuts to Disabled Students’ Allowance, held the Liberal Democrats to scrutiny over their false promises on tuition fees, and was the loudest voice against the end to maintenance grants. Perhaps most urgently for us, there is fresh news that we’ll see fees at ‘elite’ institutions like ours raised to £16,000. To load low and middle income students with yet more debt and interest if they choose to apply to places like Oxford is to build another wall around this university for the very students I want to see here. We must say no, and we need a seat at the table to do so.  We must also consider the NUS’s work elsewhere to deal with the everyday expense of university. It provides advice on landlords and rent, pioneered a discount card still unmatched in scope, and extensively researches the financial wellbeing of students. We in Oxford, if we are serious about the barriers this city presents to lower-income students, cannot turn our backs on this.

Many have pointed out the vital work the NUS does for liberation campaigns. Not for a moment do I think my own aspirations as an access volunteer can be separated from the aims of these campaigns. Take just one example: when the Campaign for Racial Awareness and Equality began to push for a more diverse curriculum, the university listened. Now we have lectures on the Curriculum and Race, departmental workshops on curriculum diversity, and are fundamentally rethinking the ways in which our course is shaped. To make our university more receptive to the concerns and perspectives of marginalised voices is one and the same with making it more accessible.

Something that comes up constantly for those working in access is the way we speak about this institution to people who aren’t used to it, whether that’s at home, in our old schools, in the hairdressers. I am proud that so many of us work hard to redress the mythology of Oxford through Q&A sessions, nation-wide conferences, and shadowing days. But we cannot deny that, everything considered, Oxford is a harder place to be for marginalised groups. What we can do point out is that things are getting much better. It is imperative that we listen to the students leading that change, and from what I’m hearing, the message could not be clearer. In Oxford, many from the Women’s Campaign, the LGBTQ+ Campaign, the Disabilities Community, are backing a Yes vote. I am too.

As I said, so much of my work is based in bringing students and teachers to realise that Oxford is not quite what it can look like. So, an important question: how would it look if we left the NUS? My fear is that we would be perpetuating an age-old myth of Oxford exceptionalism. Our university might be exceptional in some ways, but it should never be exceptionalist. We should not shy away from the fact that we are institutionally linked to other universities and further education institutions, and that we can make common cause. Many concerns students currently hold about the NUS are valid, and if we vote Yes, I’m hopeful this referendum will re-engage many students with an NUS they were distant from. But in my day-to-day life, I’m constantly reminding others that Oxford, if a bit quirky, is just one among many universities and colleges. Disaffiliation, I fear, would send the opposite message.

Think about this the other way: how might the NUS need us? In short, I think that we need to stand in solidarity with other students. We need to bulk up the argument against rising fees and rent. This referendum is bigger than us. To say #YestoNUS is to remind ourselves, even in its turbulence, of the importance of a student movement focussed on access, affordability and justice.

It is my belief that we should stay within the NUS. We need to support our liberation campaigns, put forward a united front on student fees and costs, and work against stereotypes of arrogance and elitism that haunt the application process. This is why in sixth week I’ll say #YestoNUS, and why I hope you do the same.