No HeterOx** is a queer and trans zine for the Oxford community, started by my friend Alexander Bee- cham and me. Our manifesto states, “Queer sounds are drowned out by the sermonising voices of the majority, and yet there is so much liberation and richness to be found in queer thought, and in queer discussion and in queer art and poetry and culture.” This is something we sincerely believe.

We lace our shoes with rainbows, we ring out wedding bells, and we strive to assimilate. The modern day queer rights movement has now undergone the most shameful reductionism, with the “we are
just like you” rhetoric of marriage equality and the rainbow flag flying above Whitehall.

The face of the queer rights movement today is white, gay, middle class and, ultimately, easy to swallow. Marriage equality is being hailed as the Holy Grail of a civil rights movement, so, necessarily, No HeterOx** must be anti-assimilationist. The very people that mainstream queer discourse tries to silence are the people that have paved the way for gay men to hold hands in the street.

The trans women that picked up bricks at the Stonewall riots did not do so for our right to assimilate quietly. There exists a mainstream belief that the right to same sex marriage “will finally legislate us wholly human”. The quote comes from a spoken word poem called ‘Marriage (Queer Rage)’, penned by a group of Stanford LGBTQ students of colour and criticises this train of thought.

This very belief is flawed.

The end goal of our civil-rights movement should not simply be queer assimilation. Assimilation prescribes a queer norm; that to espouse one’s fundamental difference is dangerous. Cuddly notions like “we are all just part of the human race” erase an important struggle and allow us to ignore the intersectional nature of oppressions, leaving behind those who cannot or do not want to assimilate.

Those at Stonewall did not riot for our right to assimilate. The phrase LGBTQ is hard to swallow for a reason – we are hard to swallow. There is this bizarre notion that modern-day revolutionaries must come cap in hand, preaching equal rights and pride with sweetness in their eyes and in their voices – but these issues are personal. Words hurt a lot less than bricks do – and I want people to remember that once upon a time queer people threw those too.

I do not want equality, I want liberation. No HeterOx** exists in the gap between ‘equal’ marriage and the steadily erased victims of a mainstream queer rights movement. We exist to drag everyone and ourselves into the light, to retell the stories that have been told about us. In the shadowy, un-pretty parts of our movement where LGBTQ asylum seekers are routinely humiliated and given effective death sentences. In a world where black trans bodies are under attack, a world where LGBTQ youth are disproportionately homeless, and predisposed to mental health disorders.

We want to add colour to a whitewashed movement, appreciate the intersectionality of ours and the oppression of others, kick patriarchy’s ass and look damn good doing it. We want to write our own history.

If you’d like to find out more about No HeterOx**, find us on acebook or at: noheterox.tumblr.com If you’re interested in contributing to the zine, please contact: [email protected]

YES

Tom  Carter

It might seem surprising that I, someone from a metaphorical broken home, who has never experienced a college family event in his life, would stand up in defence of the union. After all, my experience has been pretty crap. Indeed, it seems far too mainstream to defend college families, especially the monogamous heterosexual kind one gets at stuffy Trinity. The arguments in favour are tired and obvious: college families enable inter-year bonding, a support network upon arrival at Oxford and, most importantly, a bit of fun.

Yet, at the same time, it could also be argued that they rarely work and often lead to awkward “banter”. They also formalise divisions between years, creating a mentor-mentee relationship instead of an equal one. It is these assumptions that I want to challenge.

So, given that nothing comes of so many marriages, what do they
achieve apart from indoctrinating us with traditional family values from an early age?

Well, first off, they provide support to snotty-nosed, innocent freshers before they arrive by giving them an alluring sense of security that they won’t be on their own when they arrive and won’t be stranded, alone, in the big bad world. That one’s college family rarely provides such support doesn’t matter. It is the idea that it might which comforts the fresher. Indeed, if Freddie Fresher was lucky enough, his college family might even have given him helpful advice before arrival.

Whilst many college families fall apart after the initial awkward meeting in fresher’s week, that is not to say that they all do. Even if the majority are misses, the fact that a few hit is important as it is through these few successes that crucial inter-year bonding takes places, which seems to be far too rare as it is. Although it is true that we are all adults now and so should be able to make the effort ourselves, a little pushing never harmed anyone. Without college families, the great year divide would be bigger than ever.

One complaint that could be levelled against college families is the awkward “banter” it produces, such as ‘Do I know her? She’s my wife ha ha ha’ or some other banal remark. Yet, whilst this can get a little tiring on the fifteenth time of hearing, it complements the aim of college families more generally, namely to act as a social lubricant.

Ultimately, college families boil down to an attempt to enable easier social interaction within groups of awkward brainboxes, whether through giving them something to talk about or providing them with a social occasion where they can meet new people. Whilst many, myself included, might see this as a little infantile, that does not change the fact that college families help provide some support to some very nervous freshers. So, in the spirit of happy families, I urge all newly weds to love and tend to their children as if they were their own. After all, if you have to have children, you might as well love them full-heartedly.

NO

Evy Cavalla

“You can’t get with your college dad! That’s soooo incestuous!”

My knuckles turn white as I overhear the same insipid joke, shrieked gleefully across the Turl Street Kitchen for the millionth time since the beginning of my time in Oxford. I reflect on how many conversation crutches have been fashioned out of these invented roles, how many silences followed by uproarious laughter over dinner as someone announces that they saw their mum out last night. “Oh, you mean your COLLEGE mum!” My jaw clenches.

The college family is a fairly recent Oxford institution, having arisen in the past twenty years or so. If one were to rank Oxford traditions in order of usefulness, it would fall somewhere in the middle; higher than sub fusc, but below the tutorial system. Its primary use is to give freshers an opportunity for organised fun, which serves as a stopgap before you start having real fun. The issue, of course, is that it’s not your real family. If it were, the children would have shared experiences due to their shared upbringing – college siblings, by contrast, share at best a subject and at worst a common opinion of the Junction paint party.

Which brings me to the potentially more insidious side of college families: their implicit desire to attain the nirvana of ‘the family’, as imagined by Tory MPs and Enid Blyton. The nuclear, heterosexual family structure isn’t compulsory in all colleges, but it certainly pervades some. Trinity ballots its first years into heteronormative boy-girl pairs. Typically, Wadham is tolerant of homosexual, asexual, polysexual, heterosexual, bisexual and pansexual permutations of parenthood. Trinity’s attitude may be seen to be stuffy at best, oppressive at worst.

But even Wadham’s system leaves room for boring jokes and weirdly entrenched year divides. Whereas meeting someone in the year above at sixth form would engender complete apathy, at university your college parents are presented as an entirely diff erent generation. University is meant to be the ultimate leveller, yet calling your peer ‘mum’ is possibly the quickest way to regard them as ‘other’.

However, college families do unite as well as divide. The unfortunate corollary of this is that they promote an odd system of favouritism: family ties mean you’re entitled to their essays, but no genetic tie means that help is less readily offered. A stauncher debater might even make the link between college families and the kind of door-opening Oxonians expect from alumni or their real family, which is something we’d do well to distance ourselves from.

The system seems like a fairly helpful but ultimately depressing artifice. Why can’t diff erent years be nice to each other without pretending they’re related? Why bring together people who have little in common and who will greet each other with curt nods by Christmas? To butcher Tolstoy, “All happy families are alike. Each college family is unhappy in its own special way.”

In the front room of an on-site apartment in St Anne’s College, one of the world’s most famous feminist economists is offering me biscuits and tea. Now an 81 year old Oxford alumna, in 1975, Devaki Jain, published Indian Women, a book that would permanently change the way women in the developing world are treated and considered, from historical, social and economic perspectives.

It would be taken to Mexico for the UN’s first World Conference on Women in 1975 to represent the status of women in India. Indian Women was the first of a plethora of academic books and work with the UNDP for Jain’s career as a feminist economist; a career that would help her receive the Padma Bhusan, India’s third highest civilian award, in 2006, for her contributions to female empowerment.

Forty years later, she’s returned to St Anne’s as a visiting alumna. A lot has changed since 1959 when she came here to read PPE. “When I was in Oxford there was never anything about feminism. I don’t know if I was not aware of it or if it wasn’t there.” It was Indian Women that helped her realise there was a problem. “I came into understanding there was an issue about women’s subordination very late. When the publisher first approached me asking if I would like to write or edit a volume on the status of women in India, I said I didn’t have a clue about the subject, but I said I would compile some essays.

When I tried to put together the book, I didn’t know feminists or people from the women’s movement, but I chose academics because, as a lecturer in Economics at Delhi University, I was in an academic space. I met sociologists, educationalists, historians, and we wrote a fantastic book together. I got involved in learning more about women and I focussed on the lives of women in poverty zones. That was like a burst of knowledge. I found that women, even amongst the poorest of the poor, landless, houseless, were struggling to bring a livelihood to their family, much more than their menfolk.

“I went to America on two occasions, and met Gloria Steinem at both points. She came to India as a scholar in 1958 when I was teaching, and so we had a lot of fun. We were both unmarried, young girls, and neither of us identified as feminists. When I returned, she had established Ms Magazine and I had written Indian Women. She explained so many things to me about how women collectively empower themselves by affirming some kind of a ideology of themselves. When I came back and told people in India that I was a feminist, they all said ‘Feminism is a bra burning, crazy American thing, and we don’t like it.’ It’s very un-Indian.”

Jain applied her knowledge of statistics to her knowledge of women’s issues, and noticed that, “in statistics, you define a worker as main, subsidiary, supplementary etc. Women are usually categorised as a supplementary. But I was able to argue nationally that amongst the poor, women are the main breadwinners as they are willing to do anything; sweeping, cleaning, selling scraps, anything to put food on the table. Then I realised that I had to visualise what women are as economic agents. I had to just concentrate on the economic aspect of the women’s life. Now for the last forty years that has been my song. Each time you can bring out something more.”

It says a lot about feminism that even Jain finds it difficult to define it. “If I say it’s an identity of woman, then I am excluding the transgendered people. But maybe I should say that it’s affirming who I am, but with a special affirmation of an identity which is somehow related to women. I haven’t yet figured it out. It’s kind of a philosophy of freedom and affirmation of self, of rights. The freedom to be what you want to be. But it has to have a political edge.

“Not party politics, but a presence in political space. There are so many different dimensions which I haven’t sorted out. I often say that women’s experience of life, and their capability to do a million things, needs to be celebrated and shown off so that we are not always shown to be people who only do housework and childcare. But the young Indian women know who they are. They say ‘we are feminists’, and they celebrate their identity, and they’re inclusive of men, but they are a solid form now.”

The modern feminist movement in India is moving at a fast pace. In the face of discrimination and patriarchy, their voice has been loud and defiant, especially in light of 2012’s Delhi gang rape case.

“Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, when we were doing the protest marches and so on in Delhi, women in the interior of India wrote to us saying that we were making a big thing of this because there is media in Delhi, but that they experienced these things everyday; women being brutalised by drunken men, girls being raped and thrown into the well.

“They’re common, these kinds of attacks. But we began to feel that it was good it got sensationalised, because as a result of that, so much else happened which has been very healing for us; the law, the police, a huge change in the attitude. That I think is the first step, but it doesn’t deal with caste related brutal rape, or rape in traditional families where the hierarchy of male female is extraordinary.”

I ask what Jain admires about the new young feminists in India, and why their recent campaigns against sexual violence have been so powerful. “They have a great ability to work together, across the country of India, despite differences in class, caste, religion, language, location and preoccupation. They enable each other. If one is writing but can’t speak English, the other can do it quickly for her. They are also independent. There may be Marxists among them but they do not support the Marxist party. But they support every kind of rebellion. So there is a radical edge. There is a lot of energy.”

Contemporary Indian feminists face a great deal of questioning as to whether their movement is exclusionary of the illiterate masses, and reserved for the privileged, educated middle classes and students. “This new feminism is all social media. Social media which requires Indian languages or English would be unavailable to the masses in poverty. But the majority of these feminists are activists. They are working with the deprived sections of women. They are organising their rights, water, credit, or just creating awareness. So they are not alienated from the masses, but the masses do have less space in this communication. The anti-feminist, conservative male world, which includes the conservative female world, will call us all elites. They try to kill us. It’s a very good way of turning the tables against you.”

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It’s not a criticism that’s foreign to Anglo-American feminism. The question of exclusion and intersectionality, particularly in relation to questions of race, are becoming discussed with increasing velocity. I ask Jain for her view on whether different backgrounds, national and ethnic, make a difference to feminist concerns. “I stayed with Alice Walker last year. She is someone who admires me, and I her.” In an interview with Rudolph Byrd, Walker once said, “I have no problem being called “feminist” or “womanist.” In coining the term, I was simply trying myself to see more clearly what sets women of color apart in the rainbow that is a world movement of women who’ve had enough of being second- and third-class citizens of the earth.” Jain picks up on this point, saying that, “‘Womanism’ is very popular in Africa. They want men to be included, not in the sense that they can also be feminists, but in that feminism is too militant and excluding of men. There is a universality and a particularity about feminism. The political spaces and economic and social spaces are different, so I think sometimes it will be difficult to do a universalisation. But I have been writing a great deal about what something called indigenous feminism, that is different to universal feminism. I challenge all that now that I have grown. You don’t need to have feminists of different types.”

Jain ends by telling me that feminism is now more vital than ever before. “The fact that there is a whole generation of people like you, who have identified yourselves with feminism, which has meant self strengthening and participation, is a fire that I would like to grow bigger. Feminism has a moral edge. It fights for justice for all, for men and for women. I find that we are full of fire. So now, not only because there is an economic crisis, but because there is a lot of disturbance and divisions in our countries, feminism can be like a torch that recalls what human beings really want: A just world, and an inclusive world. We fight for that.”

Correction: This article has been amended to reflect that Alice Walker was misquoted by Devaki Jain.