Many people have been concerned by the frankly totalitarian policies floated by Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak in their desperate attempts to win over the most radical fringes of the Tory Membership. Lowlights include ‘reviewing’ the “woke nonsense” of Equalities Act 2010 – the Act which requires employers, service providers and the government to not discriminate against people on the basis of their race, sex, age, sexuality, etc. – and curtailing the abilities of unions to strike.
How much more concerned should we then be about those policies that have already been enacted? The litany is damning: the Police and Crime Sentencing Act 2022 imposed limits on long-established rights to protest and assembly; the Nationality and Borders Act 2022 criminalised people exercising their right to seek asylum; the Investigatory Powers Act 2016 allows government agencies to conduct warrantless surveillance… et cetera ad nauseum. One wonders why Dominic Raab seems so dead set on repealing the Human Rights Act when, at this rate, there will be little left to be taken away. (Though, for the record, the Law Society says his plans will nonetheless “damage the rule of law, prevent access to justice [and] reduce or remove rights, …”.)
This attack on civil liberties, however, is not a new phenomenon. In fact, it stretches back for at least the past few decades. The Blair government passed a series of acts which extended the length of time for which individuals can be detained prior to being charged – provided they are under investigation for terrorism offences – from the 24 hours established under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984 to up to 28 days under the Terrorism Act 2006. His administration was also complicit in the rendition (i.e. kidnap) and torture of British residents by the United States during the ‘War on Terror’. Before this, the Major government passed the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act of 1994 which, among other provisions, extended the ability for adverse inferences to be drawn from an individual remaining silent under questioning, banned the gathering of more than twenty people on public or private land at which music was played if it causes ‘serious distress’ to local residents, and created provisions for allowing people to be searched for simply being in a given area at a given time. This measure, of course, continues to result in a disproportionate number of BAME people being subjected to searches without warrants or even the suspicion of criminal activity.
These are just a few examples I’ve chosen to highlight. On their own, they may seem like reasonable – even necessary – provisions for living in a peaceful society. Who wants potential terrorists to be released by the police? Who wants ravers and protestors to be able to cause disruption to local communities with impunity? Who wants drug dealers, paedophiles and insurgents to be able to use the internet away from the watchful eyes of those agencies which keep us safe?
The problem with all these superficially defendable laws is that they fundamentally change our understanding of what a right is. Rights which can be suspended – whether for terrorists, criminals, protestors or ravers – are rights in name only: they are no longer inviolable, no longer inherently possessed by virtue of an individual’s humanity, no longer respected as a moral end. They become something conditionally granted by the state, to be freely taken away when it is politically or practically expedient: a means to some unstated societal goal that can be redirected when those in power see fit.
If Steve Bray can have his equipment seized and be threatened with prosecution simply for shouting the words ‘Stop Brexit’ at MPs too loudly, why could the same fate not befall anyone raising any grievance with the government – not least when it is the government themselves who gets to decide which protestors are too ‘disruptive’ for their liking? If terror suspects can be held for 28 days without bail, why not those suspected of shoplifting or speeding in the future? If our bodies and telecommunications records can be searched without suspicion or warrant, why not our homes if someone decides it’s in the best interest of national security? If rights are not treated as inherent and inviolable, there is no reason why any of these proposals are genuinely unthinkable; they are merely somewhat unlikely, at least, based on our almost non-existent abilities to predict the political future.
This may seem like an overblown reaction when we consider the Acts individually, and my opposition may at first seem naïve or even downright immoral given its real-world conclusion, e.g., making investigating serious criminals more difficult to investigate. But when we let the state violate the rights of some individuals for expedient purposes which we agree with, we open the door for those same rights to be denied to us and others for purposes we may seriously disagree with. It is for this reason that curtailing the right of any group – regardless of the right or the group, no matter how dangerous, distasteful or irritating they are – necessarily involves undermining every single right which our individual liberties rely upon.
And, of course, this is to say nothing of the rights which have already been effectively dismantled – like the right to silence, or to be free from warrantless surveillance by the state.
For all these reasons, we must strongly oppose the recent proposals of Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak as a free nation. Moreover, we must strive to have reinstated those rights which we have lost. But please be aware that these policies haven’t mysteriously appeared out of a totalitarian void. They are rather the natural progression of the slow death of liberty in this country – the next parts of the democratic body to be necrotised by an infection which has been growing quietly for at least the past fifty years.
One might be left wondering how all this has occurred so easily. Again, I suggest it is because we have failed to see rights as inherent and inviolable, but rather as granted and rescindable by the state. It is because we have failed to fervently accept and defend this principle that we fail to see that an attack on the rights of any one individual is an attack on the notion of rights in and of themselves. Then whatever policy is being proposed can be defended as pragmatic or even necessary in a given political age and its opposers presented as out-of-touch idealists or defenders of the most abhorrent sins in our society – rather than those deeply concerned with the conservation of liberty and healthy democracy. (Take, for example, Priti Patel smearing lawyers defending people facing deportation as ‘activists’, or Boris Johnson’s attack on the ‘lefty human rights lawyers’ who get in the way of his government breaking the law.) For these reasons, there is often little effective opposition, whether in the streets, or the media, or the opposition benches in the Commons. But when strong opposition can be mustered our hope is not lost: earlier in the year campaigners were able to block proposed revisions to the powers of judicial review which would have made it more difficult for victims of unlawful acts committed by the state to seek justice.
If none of this has managed to persuade you of the threat we face, please consider this. On the current trajectory, there might well be a time in the near future when a right you hold dear or essential to your liberty comes under attack – presented as ‘woke nonsense’ or too ‘disruptive’ for the wider community to put up with – and you will suffer the same fate as those who came before you. That is, unless we continually reassert and seek to reclaim the inherency and inviolability of our civil liberties through outcry, protest and legal action. And God help us to do so: the preservation of the health and character of our nation requires it.
Name three women’s tennis players, easy right? Now try three rugby players who are women, much tougher, no? Here’s why.
I propose it is the distance from which the women’s sport operates from the men’s equivalent. I’ve tried to prove myself wrong but according to my totally sound parity tester, my theory is rock solid.
The Zoe sports gender parity test:
1. Name a widely known, successful sportswoman.
2. Name the sport she competes in.
3. Is there a men’s equivalent, in terms of visibility and funding?
4. Does the men’s equivalent have MORE visibility and funding?
When my test is gender flipped for men, too often we can’t get past stage 3. Does a sport for men exist where the men enjoy success and there is no women’s equivalent? Formula 1 is a great example of this. Is this the same case for women?
Spoiler alert, no. Every notable sportswoman fails my challenge. You will likely have to say yes at stage 3, highlighting a key gender difference. You will also likely say no at stage 4. Serena Williams? Men’s tennis exists, undeniably has the upper hand, and pay parity is only a recent feature of the game. Danica Patrick? NASCAR, like much of motor sport, is dominated by men. Shelly Ann Fraser Pryce? Women’s athletics may be one of the better examples in terms of parity to men, but it’s hard to argue that women get more funding and visibility consistently.
Truthfully speaking, my flimsy gender parity test isn’t even necessary to see that the most successful women’s sports are those which occur in the presence of the men’s equivalent. In other words, it’s very hard for women’s sport to exist independently from the men: in fact the trend seems to be that the more distant the women’s sporting event operates from the men’s, the less success it has. Compare sports that gain their relevance and viewership from large international multi-sport events like the Olympics or Commonwealth Games against those who rely on leagues and tournaments like the World Cup. Gendered events feature equally in the Olympics, but in football the men’s and women’s World Cup are entirely separate.
The Olympics are known to be better for women because both men and women are able to compete alongside each other. In fact, most famous women’s sport competitions exist with a men’s counterpart. Renowned women’s grand slams occur alongside the men’s. UFC fight cards feature women’s matches often amongst the men’s.
Put plainly, in these competitions and fights both men and women are able to compete. Not only that but they tend to occur at the same venue, in front of the same audience, in the same competitions. The European Swimming Championships for example will have events for both men and women: neither get ignored, both get equal coverage. Now let’s take rugby. The Six Nations Championship, a competition contested between six European national teams, is separate for men and women. Different locations, crowds, and competitions. Nothing unites the two except in name. Unlike the trend in swimming, viewership is entirely different. With new sponsorships like Tik Tok and coverage on the BBC, the women’s competition has grown but it’s nothing like the men’s equivalent. The point isn’t to suggest a social wrong or an inevitable outcome, but rather to point out the sad trend that many women’s sports seem to thrive when in company with the men’s equivalent and just about survive when in solitude.
This is why I consider the Lionesses to be so impactful, not just for the celebration of European women’s football and the growth in the women’s game, but for the wider message that women’s sport can establish itself separately from men’s sport yet still have significant relevance. The fact that a women’s tournament with no men’s equivalent competing at the same time managed to pull viewership figures of over 17 million is extremely significant.
This is a step in the right direction. However, after the tournament so much of the conversation was whether women could ever be on par with the men’s game in terms of pay and fame. That would be a dream come true for many, but it’s so far away at the current moment. I argue, rather, that the main win gained by the Lionesses’ victory was the ability for women to be successful and renowned in a competition that didn’t have men competing; full focus fell on women athletes and to have achieved that success is certainly a win.
During exams, my friends and I formed a study group. While it took us three years to realise that studying might be important even for a History degree, the dread for our upcoming exams eventually sunk in. Amidst the panicked conversations about misogynistic late-Roman chroniclers (looking at you, Procopius) were the study breaks at some point in the day to visit a café. A European-style working day with a long lunch break was essential to feeling like a real humanities student, and spending on coffee or cake proved to be an excellent means of coping with exam stress.
Now that exams are long gone, I have found time to consider what I could write about that would allow me to reflect on my experience of Oxford as a city, and I was torn between pubs and cafés. However, having been teetotal for the first year of my degree, in lockdown for the second and a finalist for my third, my pubbing credentials are well below par. Being a sugar-addict, however, my café CV is brimming with relevant experience, and I felt the need to pay some kind of tribute to the coffee shop scene here.
Bored witless by the Law Library, I applied for a loyalty card at the adjacent coffee shop, Missing Bean, and I also occasionally resorted to the suspiciously cheap coffee in college, where the exciting catch is that the oat milk is off and the coffee tastes burnt. As Exeter’s Cohen Quad is in Jericho, Tree Artisan, located on Little Clarendon Street, became our most-visited café. To find out what coffee shop life is like in Oxford from the point of view of the owners, I decided to interview Tree Artisan’s founder and owner, Graziella Ascensao.
Tree Artisan Café now feels like a fixture of the Oxford coffee scene, but it faced challenges from the very start. Graziella moved to Oxford from Brazil at 18, and later worked in the service sector, as both a barista and a waitress, and began to save up until she could afford to open her own café. It seemed as if fate had conspired against her when the COVID-19 pandemic hit as soon as she had secured the lease for the premises.
However, consistent with the rest of her attitude connected to her work, Graziella approached the challenge with a positive mindset and turned it into an opportunity. ‘At that time, I saw it was the time to open,’ she says. ‘When people were in front of their computer all day, they wanted to pick up a coffee and go to the park’. While, due to COVID-19 restrictions, she found it harder to cultivate the atmosphere she wanted within the physical space, she managed to generate a small community of regular customers who appreciated the friendliness and good coffee on offer. ‘I found positivity in that. I am always trying to be a warm person’.
This attitude is Graziella’s main take on the difference between the culture of chain cafés and that of independent ones. She takes pride in buying everything from independent suppliers, from bread to coffee beans, not wanting to compromise the culture of a small local enterprise. ‘There is more love, more passion. With chains, whoever you are, you are a number. The staff are a number, the customers are a number, everybody is a number. It is completely different to when you have a focus on the people’.
This focus is arguably what makes Tree Artisan Café unique. After exams, my friend and I worked there one afternoon, while the café was quiet. As we worked, we noticed that the staff recognised and talked to almost every customer who walked through the door. For a generation that appreciates the personal experience afforded by food vendors, this kind of human interaction sets Tree Artisan Café apart from chain cafés, where the staff often seem stressed and keen to hurry along to the next customer. The feeling that you’re part of a community is a huge appeal, and one that makes sitting in Tree Artisan much more appealing than, for example, sitting in Café Nero.
While the independent café market in Oxford is crowded and competitive, Graziella does not feel this is a hostile environment, and rather sees a market where independent outlets do not have to try and beat each other down to stay in business. ‘Honestly, I respect all of them, because I believe in this world there is space for all of them. Tree Artisan has my biometric, it is different from all the others. It is my personal imprint on them. It is like my baby. I am not comparing to others; I love it because it is mine’.
This ‘personal imprint’ is a huge part of independent coffee outlets in Oxford, and Graziella’s experiences definitely shape how Tree Artisan operates. Having been vegan for three years, she ensures there are multiple dairy-free, gluten-free and vegan options on the menu. As a lifelong member of the allergy club myself, it is welcome to have actual choices, especially when they’re genuinely delicious and likely to even be bought by someone who isn’t allergic to the other options. The menu is also rotated regularly, according to which options prove most popular, which allows Tree Artisan to be customer-driven, rather than constantly supplying the same, bulk-bought generic options available at a chain.
Graziella’s enthusiasm talking about running her own café is infectious. ‘It is hard work,’ she tells me at the end of our interview. ‘I’m here at 4:30 in the morning every day, and I have gratitude to be here. It is my passion, I am happy to be here’. It is this highly personal desire to create a positive experience for every customer that sets Oxford’s independent outlets apart from their corporate competition, and Tree Artisan Café is the perfect example of this alternative, people-focused approach to growing as a café in Oxford.
The Edinburgh Fringe is probably one of my favourite places in the world: there is a literally limitless amount of comedy and theatre on offer to see 24/7, and everyone you meet is usually as obsessed with it as you are. What’s not to like? Well, the downside is that with a limitless amount of shows you are inevitably going to miss most of them, and it turns out people obsessed with theatre and comedy can be a bit…much. Overall it can be an incredibly overwhelming experience, and the main thing is make sure that while you can’t see everything, the shows you do see are so mind-blowingly good you completely forget about all the ones you missed. This is where I come in: I went up to Fringe in the first week and saw as much as I possibly in order to recommend to you lot what’s worth seeing and what’s not, so please read on for my top recs!
Sketch Comedy
Dirty Laundry – Greenside @ Infirmary Street, 21:55 until Aug 20th
I’m kicking things off with Sketch because a) it’s my favourite kind of show and b) perhaps unsurprisingly, my top pick of the Fringe goes to an outrageously funny sketch show, ‘Dirty Laundry’. Cambridge Footlights Emily, Maddie and Robbie (Meat and Two Veg) are looking for a fourth housemate (as they will tell you as they flyer in the streets with a washing line – genius), and in the process the audience is treated to a no-holds-barred look at modern life through the medium of their sketches. The chemistry between these three is palpable, and it’s hard not to get caught up in their enthusiasm as they gallop from one sketch to the next with hilariously apt change music and slick staging. Favourite sketches include musical theatre kids trying to find their keys (pun – I presume – intended), the song of the Student Landlords, and the efforts of stubbornly monolingual Ben to keep up with his ridiculously advanced Spanish pen pal, Marta. These three will have you in stitches from the minute they get on stage, and I challenge you not to want to move right in with them by the final bows. Don’t miss!
Mudfish: Might as Well – Underbelly, Cowgate, 14:35 until Aug 28th
Veering towards the more absurdist side of sketch comedy, this show takes for its setting the bottom of a well in which two twins find themselves trapped – and it only gets more bizarre from there. From a gym where people still work out despite the arrival of the apocalypse, to two Southern diner employees who can’t keep their gossip to themselves, comics Molly and Dan never fail to entertain, making even the most outlandish situations hilarious by their sheer skill on the stage. It is no understatement to say that by halfway through the show every person in the front row was crying with laughter, an intensity that was carried through right till the end of the show, where some unexpectedly heart-warming moments provide the show with an emotional climax. A must-see for sketch/absurdism fans.
Britney: Friend and Nothing More – Pleasance Below – Pleasance Courtyard, 17:45 until Aug 28th
This show proves the paradoxical rule of comedy that the more successful you are as a sketch comic, the less sketches you actually have to do. This quirky, sparky duo only have about 5 sketches in the hour-long show, but I for one did not feel the lack: their on-stage repertoire, established over 13 years of writing and performing together, sets you immediately at ease, and the story of their first-ever collaboration holds the show together. The moment I and the rest of the audience really lost it was a masterful piece of meta-theatre in which current sketch show and debut story overlap to hilarious effect, but there were plenty of laughs throughout – no wonder they’ve got a brand new pilot out on BBC iPlayer. If you want to be that excruciating person in two year’s time going ‘oh you mean Britney? Yeah I saw them in this tiny theatre at Fringe before they got big’, this is the show for you.
Girlboss (ended 14th August but deserves a mention!)
This energetic and inventive sketch show takes us on a hunt for that ever-elusive thing: ‘The Girl That Has It All’ and glides seemingly effortlessly through the trials and tribulations of modern womanhood – or in other words, the Girlboss. Cambridge comedy duo Dulcie and Ella make an hour fly by with their witty and well-observed sketches, from a bank’s International Women’s Day ad campaign to two beta males with a podcast called ‘Should Women Have…?’. My favourite sketch however has to go to the indie boy band they close the show with, strumming away on blow-up guitars whilst singing about their questionable hopes and dreams. Whether you identify as a girl, boss or neither of the above, this show is a good time.
Theatre
Boy – Summerhall, 11.30 until Aug 28th
This was the first show I saw in Edinburgh and has to take the crown of the most ‘Fringe-y’ show as well, by which I mean something so experimental and unique you’re not going to see it anywhere else. Following on from previous successful Fringe runs, Belgian theatre troupe Carly Wijs brings us the true story of the Reimer family, who, after the circumcision of their baby boy goes wrong, decide to raise him as a girl, with the help of eminent psychologist Dr Money. If this sounds upsetting please don’t be put off, as the premise of the show is to tell the story as a child would understand it, with just two performers using stuffed toys to represent the different characters. This technique cushions the blow of the subject matter, allowing it to be handled with the utmost sensitivity, and the expertly crafted script withholds and obscures the truly horrifying parts of the story so that they can be processed in a manageable way. An extremely thought-provoking piece that will stick in your mind long after the curtain falls.
Ghislaine/Gabler – Greenside @ Riddles Court, 18: 40 until Aug 29th
A Broadway Baby reviewer I spoke to said he had been to see it three times: it’s not hard to see why. This one-woman tour de force intersperses an imagined monologue given by Ghislaine Maxwell awaiting trial in her cell with fragments of dialogue from Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler. Possibly because I’ve never read the play I found the interruptions from Ibsen’s work a little superfluous: I would happily have watched Kristin Winter’s utterly captivating performance as Ghislaine for the whole hour. With snatches of physical theatre and monologues from Epstein’s victims mixed in, the script centres mainly on Ghislaine’s relationship with her father and reaction to his death (which is where the parallels with Hedda Gabler emerge). Winters finds the perfect balance between composure and despair, never falling into the ‘hysterical woman’ trap nor losing our feeling of intimacy by appearing too collected. While it would be a stretch to say I felt sympathy with Ghislaine, after an hour in her company I certainly felt I understood her story a little better.
This is Not a Show About Hong Kong – Underbelly – Cowgate, 14:00 until Aug 28th
If your idea of Fringe is not so much about the comedy but about ground-breaking, serious theatre, this show is for you. It transferred from London as one of four shows promoted by New Diorama Theatre and is selling out every day, and rightly so. The performance starts with an unsettling bit of immersive theatre, blurring the line between a security announcement and the beginning of a show about repressive government. It then takes us through a series of short scenes, some with dialogue and some purely physical, which represent different parts of the loss of freedoms and increasing repression in Hong Kong. Some are deeply moving, others frankly bizarre – a few are funny but only in ‘you have to laugh or else you’ll cry’ sort of way. In fact, by the end of the performance all four performers were shedding tears on stage, as were a fair portion of the audience. This is not a show to compare with the comedy and silliness we usually associate with the Fringe, but it is nevertheless an impactful piece of theatre that should not be missed.
Stand-Up
Ania Magliano: Absolutely No Worries If Not – Pleasance Courtyard, 16:35 until Aug 24th
Some of you might already know Ania Magliana and her famous horse-girl segment from TikTok, in which case I’m sure you’ll need no convincing to go and see her debut, but for the rest of you allow me to introduce you to a rising star of the stand-up world, whose hilarious show has just won Best New Show of the Leicester Comedy Festival. On the day I went she had just added fans to her stage because of the heat, and before the show even began she was ad-libbing to the audience about this with the comfortable demeanour of someone much more experienced. Once she launched into her set things only got better: her speciality is long, surreal speeches that take us into the depths of her imagination and push observational comedy to its limits, my favourite of which has to be her comments on the people who work at Lush. Seriously, they are a different breed. Even you think stand-up isn’t your thing, I urge you to go and see her. You will not be disappointed.
Chelsea Birkby: No More Mr Nice Guy
A word to the wise: contrary to the popular wisdom that walking alone in deserted areas of cities at night time is ill-advised, in Fringe season what is to be avoided doing alone at all costs is walking down a very busy street, in the daytime. ‘Hi there, sorry to disturb you but you just look like a really perfect fit for my show. I love your outfit! What’s that book you’re reading? It looks so cool’. I’m hooked before they’ve even handed me the flyer, convinced that a person paid or otherwise obliged to get people into a show by any means available could not possibly have any ulterior motive in complimenting me. No need to romanticize and aestheticize every waking moment in Oxford in the hope of someone finally writing an Oxlove that could plausibly be directed at you: during a particularly gratifying 5 minute period on Cowgate I was flyered by two people simultaneously, one for a sketch show (‘I can tell you have a great laugh’) and one for a debut female stand up (‘you have such a cool aesthetic going on you’re gonna love the show’). Naturally being the good feminist I am I went to the stand up, to show solidarity with a female comic and absolutely not because the flyerer complimented my appearance. Cue 55 minutes of wondering if the sketch show would have been a better bet – I’m not sure if Chelsea and I just didn’t get on or the ‘what if’ was just too much for me, but this wasn’t my favourite show. There were some funny bits about how to go from being a ‘nice girl’ to a young woman doing whatever she wants, but for me this didn’t go far enough to cover the fact that the basic story being told was actually quite traumatic (involving being diagnosed with BPD and sexually manipulated by an authority figure). On the plus side Chelsea is Oxford-based, so if this does sound like your kind of thing you can probably catch her next show a bit closer to home.
Cabaret
How to Keep Up with the Kardashians (ended 14th August but deserves a mention!)
This was probably the show at Fringe where I had the most fun, thanks to the engaging performance and razor-sharp writing of Manchester-based theatre group So La Flair. Ranging from group choreographed dances to intensely personal monologues, this show is loosely based around the theme of body image and learning to love yourself despite the pressure to ‘keep up’ with modern beauty standards. Each performer gets some alone time on stage to express their own personal relationship with their body, whether that be through a song, story or satirical strip tease. The overall impression you leave the theatre with is one of joy and celebration, which let’s face it is a pretty rare and impressive feeling to cultivate with reference to the female body.
One-person shows which fall somewhere between comedy and seriousness and are a bit confusing (surprisingly more than one of these)
Colossal – Underbelly, Cowgate, 12.45 until Aug 28th
Having seen Patrick McPherson’s hugely successful one-man show ‘The Man’ back in 2019, I had high hopes for this show. Like ‘The Man’ it deals with themes of toxic masculinity, bisexuality, and the perils of modern dating, with a biting self-awareness that reveals itself throughout the show and ensures things never get too self-righteous. For me ‘Colossal’ was a little too far on the self-conscious, performative side of things, with moments of comedy thrown in but tempered by earnest audiences addresses such as ‘what’s the best part of a story?’. Indeed, McPherson’s story telling is skilful, but the overall message, that men are usually emotionally unintelligent and therefore bad at dating, didn’t seem like much of a ground-breaking revelation to me. I did however hear a lot of good things about McPherson’s other show ‘Pear’, a comedy duo with his twin brother, so maybe go and see that instead.
Destiny – Underbelly, Cowgate 17.20 until Aug 28th
This was one of the few shows I booked before arriving after seeing it on The Guardian’s Top Picks for Fringe. This is perhaps my fault for blindly trusting any Guardian article I read without further scrutiny, but Destiny was not altogether what I expected. What starts off as a cringe-worthy monologue of a young girl getting ready for a night out on the town in Chippenham quickly becomes a narrative of grim survival after she is violently assaulted. The perspective of a 15-year-old girl who barely understands what has happened to her is all too familiar, but Destiny’s mistrust of the those who try to help and quick attachments to those who exploit her, bring a unique perspective and devastating poignance to this show.
So, there you have it: 3,171 shows whittled down to 12. Even if they’re not all to your taste, I hope this gives you somewhere to start, and remember: you simply can’t see everything so enjoy what you can and forget about the rest!
Friday 2nd September is creeping ever closer and with a government that seems to be set on inaction until then in the midst of the biggest cost of living crisis in decades, for millions it can’t come soon enough. Before then though, 0.3% of the population will decide who the next Prime Minister is and all signs now seem to suggest that that person will be Liz Truss.
Personally, I see it as a tragedy on several levels but, above all, I cannot cease to be totally baffled by the polls that show Truss will win by such a landslide. Not only is it now with seeming daily regularity that a new independent report, financial expert, or ‘Tory grandee’ points out her economic plans are both unfundable and inadequate. More than anything, the Conservative Party Members seem set to condemn themselves to losing the next election by electing a leader and resulting cabinet that is beyond impalpable for the general population.
I suppose the first step in trying to get inside the mind of Tory members is understanding who they really are, something that is notoriously difficult and explains why opinion polls in leadership contests vary so much in comparison with those of general elections. Although the information is not officially published, Tim Bale, professor of politics at Queen Mary University, concluded nearly ten years of study on this and told the FT last month that “There hasn’t been much change in the demographics of the Tory grassroots since we began our research on party members back in 2013.” The research found that, rather unsurprisingly, that members are disproportionately older men. 63% were male (compared to roughly half of the UK population), their median age is 57 (the national average is 40), and 80% fall in the so-called ABC1 category of the most highly-paid demographic group (this makes up 53% of the country). They also match the classic stereotype of being white and right-leaning on issues, with 76% voting for Brexit and 95% identifying as White British in a country where that makes up just 83% of the population. Now, that is a lot of numbers, but the fact that those voting on our next leader come from such a small and narrow segment of society is not only plainly a crazy and scarcely believable part of our democratic system but goes some way to explaining how and why they have leaned so heavily on Truss over Sunak. They have rewarded her ludicrous attempts to evoke Thatcherite policies which don’t fit the current economic climate and, much like the Foreign Secretary’s desperate efforts to emulate Thatcher’s personality and dress sense, are outdated.
Despite this, in fact for this very reason, one would think that the constant comments from some of the Tory party’s oldest, most successful, and most well-respected names, about just how baseless much of Truss’ economic policies are, would have swayed more of the base towards Sunak. Kenneth Clark has described her approach as “nonsense and simplistic” and related it to techniques that might be used by a Venezuelan government. Former leaders Michael Howard and William Hague, as well as well-respected current MPs such as Dominic Raab, Jeremy Hunt, and Michael Gove, have all taken to the airwaves and newspapers in the past few days to speak against the idea that tax cuts can resolve the crisis. Even Lord Lamont, Treasurer in the Thatcher government remembered so fondly by much of the conservative party base, has publicly backed Sunak over the holes in Truss’ plans. It isn’t only individuals who think that her plans are misguided either: the IFS joined countless other economists last week in pointing out that her current ideas are simply unfundable unless they are accompanied by spending cuts.
What makes all of this even more crazy and difficult for me to get my head around is that the members seem blissfully unaware of just how unelectable Truss is for the electorate as a whole. With a general election looming in 2024 you would think that there would be an appetite for a relatively inoffensive leader who appeals to as broad a base as possible. Whereas Sunak has at least shown his ability to appeal to a large spectrum in the past, earning himself the nickname ‘Dishy Rishi’ during his Eat Out to Help Out glory days, Truss has never shied away from bulldozing ahead with unpopular policies and divisive comments. Whether that is upsetting Scots by saying that the best way to deal with their democratically elected leader is “to ignore her” or regular workers by telling them to put in some more “graft”, Truss trails Keir Starmer and rival Sunak in every poll of the general population. And if recent leaks of her planned cabinet are to be believed, placing Jacob Rees-Mogg as Levelling-up Secretary, she hardly appears to be planning a change of course on this front.
So – why? What is it that appeals? It might well be a case of Johnson continuity – indeed in surveys, many have said that they feel Sunak betrayed their leader by resigning and becoming one of the major catalysts for the Prime Minister’s downfall. In reality though, I think it is more of a case of the members being genuinely detached from the real world themselves. For whatever reason they don’t seem able to see their impending decision risks disaster for millions of people across the country by worsening current financial pressures as well as putting them in a catastrophic position ahead of the next general election. Two years is a long time in politics, but right now I struggle to see why on earth the turkeys are voting for Christmas.
As one of the final two Conservative candidates in the bid to become the next Prime Minister, Liz Truss has pledged that all students who achieve three A* at A-Level be given an automatic interview for Oxbridge. Not only is this pledge loaded with logistical misunderstanding, but also lacks the sensitivity and thought that is needed to increase accessibility to Oxbridge. As well as this, Truss is fuelling the narrative that graduating from Oxbridge is the only route to success in later life – an idea that needs to be deconstructed entirely in order for British society to become more egalitarian.
Explaining her pledge to reform Oxbridge admissions, Truss argued that not enough students are putting themselves forward by applying. This premise alone fails to recognise the disparities that exist between students who are capable of going to Oxbridge – the problem is not in the numbers, but the reasons behind these numbers. Interviewing thousands more students will not solve this. In themselves, too, these reasons vary but ultimately can be traced back to the reputations of both Oxford and Cambridge as historically exclusionary and elitist institutions. If Truss genuinely cares about demystifying these stereotypes – which I doubt she does – there are much more effective means to do it.
The students that don’t put themselves forward are disproportionately affected by a mystified Oxbridge. For example, despite their academic potential, a student from a lower socio-economic background who doesn’t know anyone who goes to either Oxford or Cambridge is likely to be deterred from applying, through fear of not fitting in with people who were privately educated or who have had both parents attend Oxbridge. The reality is, however, that not everyone at Oxford fits this stereotype. By encouraging more interviews, Truss fails to distinguish between this student and their Eton peer, who aspired to attend Oxbridge from a young age. The root cause is not addressed.
Accessibility is about empowerment. It is about knowledge – addressing the legitimate fears that state school students have and enabling them to make an informed choice about what studying at Oxford or Cambridge is like. In my opinion, the most effective way of doing this is through summer schools or school trips through organisations like UNIQ, The Sutton Trust, and Aspire Liverpool. Before I attended UNIQ, I was convinced Oxford was not for people like me. On the train home, I realised I wanted to apply, because the Student Ambassadors proved my preconceptions entirely wrong – they were friendly, loved their subject, and were from a similar background to me. I was also given a mock interview which hugely increased my confidence in what was before an unfamiliar situation.
An alternative, then, to Truss’ push for more interviews is increased funding of these outreach schemes. They have the power to increase equality of opportunity for prospective students. As well as funding, making these schemes more widely known is another idea, for example through advertisement in schools – especially schools that send little to no students to Oxbridge each year.
Not only does Truss’ pledge demonstrate her lack of understanding about accessibility, but it also brings countless logistical concerns. To name the most obvious one, there aren’t enough resources in terms of tutors and time. There would be hundreds more students to interview.
This pledge is also a radical misrepresentation of the admissions process itself. Truss, who herself studied PPE at Merton College, seems to have forgotten the other elements to an Oxbridge application. The process is holistic, encompassing not only an interview but also a specific personal statement, admissions test, and written work. Would these students be forced to prepare for and sit an entrance exam too, or is Truss suggesting an entire redefinition of the admissions process? Regardless, the emphasis upon the interview stage is an unfair one. There is definitely an argument to be made for interviews favouring those who are able to articulate themselves more confidently, aided through specific Oxbridge preparation classes offered at elite private schools or through societies like debating. I worry that with more interviews, the students who don’t have access to this sort of training will simply be overlooked. This is why a holistic admissions process works: where a quieter, less confident student may struggle slightly at interview, having been taught in a class of thirty, their written work is able to articulate their full ability and potential.
Now, back to Truss’ point that students are not putting themselves forward. Radically, this is okay! Choice is integral when making decisions about higher education and next steps in life. Not every student with high predicted grades will want to, or should, apply to Oxbridge. Suggesting the opposite fuels a dangerous narrative, one that already dominates British society. Out of the past 57 Prime Ministers, 43 studied at Oxbridge. Though an Oxbridge degree undoubtedly opens doors, it shouldn’t be perceived as the only route to success when societal barriers prevent so many people from applying in the first place. There are so many ways you can have a happy and successful life – being an Oxbridge graduate isn’t a necessary criterion for this.
So, Liz Truss, accessibility isn’t just a fun bullet-point you can add to your pledges to get a few more votes from your fellow Conservative MPs. It’s important, and there isn’t one blanket solution to the discussion it invites. And this solution is, by no means, mass interviewing.
Oxford in the summer feels remarkably different. Most obviously there is a lack of students wandering around with most of us having gone home for the vacation. However, the streets are far from deserted: Cornmarket street is mobbed. More tourists than ever are littered across the city, trying not to look bored on walking tours and slowly tiptoeing through libraries. Plenty of teenagers attending summer schools can be found marching around in formations resembling packs. The students that do remain seem to be busying themselves in the library with summer reading lists and dissertations. However, the dog-eat-dog struggle to find a great spot in the Rad Cam is over with lots of empty seats. In terms of nightlife, Bridge Thursdays seem to be a thing of the past. Spoons is noticeably quieter and missing the overdressed boys in suits. Lots of interns from other universities are here and potential new friends for people feeling down about their empty college. Breakfast in hall is a strange hybrid between a hotel buffet and the old-fashioned dining hall. Instead of catching up with friends who have managed to make it to breakfast albeit in pyjamas with their eyes still half shut, the dining hall is full of strangers, namely American tourists and people staying in college for conferences. Lincoln College, for example, welcomed students from Bread Load School of English, an intensive summer master’s and continuing education programme for teachers and other professionals. These students had exclusive access to Lincoln facilities and were found dining in hall.
There are certainly pros to staying in Oxford over the summer. Due to the infamously short yet intense terms, residing in Oxford provides the opportunity to potter around museums and make the most of the city without the pressure of deadlines. The libraries remain open, offering the chance to get ahead on the reading. Living alone also grants students the perks of independence and being under their own steam. Importantly some students who have a hard time at home may not wish to return. Lots of international students also stay over the summer.
However, there are cons to remaining in the city of dreaming spires. The people make Oxford, and with friends many miles away, some students may feel isolated. Oxford is an expensive city to live in and even with a job, most of that money will have to go towards paying for rent and living expenses. Often a lot of persuasion is needed for a college to grant ‘vac res’ in the first place. For example, some students from Lincoln College were declined vac res. Oxford colleges are keen to rent out the rooms and profit from our absence from student accommodation.
I was granted vacation residence in Lincoln for a week in August. I volunteered for the Lincoln college charity, Vacproj, which takes children who are involved with the Oxfordshire social services away on daytrips and residentials. The city felt very different without most of my friends. Having a drink in a pub by myself has pushed me to meet new people and put myself out there. Striking up conversations over the threat of wasps falling into a pint has proved effective. I made a new friend, a student from Bristol university who was visiting Oxford for the day. As Yeats said, ‘There are no strangers here; only friends you haven’t met yet’ . I’ve enjoyed long walks in university parks and seeking comfort from my favourite benches and a meal deal. Oxford in the summer is truly a unique experience because there are the same dreaming spires without the dreamers.
Image: George Hodan/CC0 1.0 via PublicDomainPictures.net
CW : mention of disordered eating, body dysmorphia
Ethaney Lee welcomes you to @tenderherbs. From her inventive take on the Instagram business byline with “ethnic grocery store” to the presentation of elegant yet attainable meals, her food account celebrates the art of sharing a dish.
Over one hundred thousand people follow @tenderherbs because of Ethaney’s ability to pinpoint in a post the correspondence between senses borne out in cuisine. Her elegantly presented dishes meet thoughtful captions to contextualize a meal in broader lived experience: steak frites reminiscent of a poignant scene in the movie C’mon C’mon; a breakfast bowl reflecting “the kaleidoscope of feelings” Ethaney woke to that morning. With @tenderherbs, there is no elbowing for a seat at the table or being 1000th in the calling queue for a reservation. The posts are exciting because they extend the possibilities of what users thought possible at home. Each dish appears as inviting as the format used to share it.
In fact, this summer, Ethaney turned this welcoming atmosphere into a reality when she invited followers to sign up for “Dinner Date.” She hosted an evening at her home that set the scene for the New Age Dinner Party in every sense – a sleek aesthetic, consciously-prepared plates, and an experience afforded by social media.
The beauty in Ethaney’s approach to cooking is the creation – it is the fine detail that the chipped edge of a bowl encapsulates the sentiment of a Monday. It is taking pride in simplicity. The honesty in the preparation as in the delivery keeps followers coming back for another helping. @tenderherbs takes the art out of the museum and places it on your wall.
What first inspired you to start @tenderherbs?
I had no interest in learning how to cook growing up. My brother who is two and a half years younger than me is the cook of the family. I thought my mom could teach all the family recipes to him, and it would be fine. When I turned thirty, I realized I couldn’t cook for myself and decided it wasn’t a great look to not be able to care of myself. It hit home when I started dating my boyfriend. I cooked dinner for us, and it was so inedible! I started crying – I was that embarrassed. All of that coincided with me having just quit my job. The pandemic was looming, and I decided to take the time of not working to learn how to cook. I started my Instagram as a silly way for my brother and my mom to keep track of my progress. It was not meant to be what it has become. Preparing dishes is woven into my idea of taking care of myself. It’s how I show care and love for my boyfriend, as well, because we live together. I think sometimes considering your account important can be taken as shallow because it’s a social media platform – but it’s not about the account itself, it’s about what it’s come to represent to me.
In your bio, you describe your account as an “Ethnic Grocery Store.” Could you explain what the term means to you?
I chose the term because I can relate to the word, “ethnic.” I grew up going to Korean grocery stores. When I first started my Instagram, it was kind of an all-encompassing way of describing the things I liked to cook. It sounds comforting.
What considerations factor into a dish you post?
I normally will post one thing I eat that day. I like showing food that makes me happy. I know that sounds really simple. I don’t post everything I eat in a day on Instagram because the “what I eat in a day” can be a toxic food feedback system. My thought process is what do I have today that I know sounds good that I can just post on Instagram? What do I feel like eating today?
I’d be remiss if I didn’t get you to weigh in on the edible flower debate – all aesthetics or flavor-enhancer?
There is a woman in the food Instagram community who said she thinks edible flowers are the most pretentious joke. I feel insecure about that every time I use edible flowers! The answer is I like certain edible flowers. I will not put a whole entire pansy on my salad or a cake. It can look beautiful, but for food, I don’t think it’s necessary. I do like using radish flowers because they can taste like a radish and chive blossoms can taste like an allium.
Could you speak to the synesthetic effect cooking has on you?
I am not the best at expressing how I feel – especially if I am having a hard time. I’ve always been prone to feeling down or depressed, so cooking allows me to share how I am doing or what I am going through with something tangible. With that breakfast bowl, I had gotten into a fight with my brother – we never ever fight – and I woke up feeling very strange. Not good, not bad, but just not right. Cooking allows me to explore how I am doing. It makes me feel better.
To build on that, many of your posts offer insight into why that dish is right for the moment. For you, is cooking catharsis or vice versa?
Both. Cooking is definitely cathartic. If I’m really anxious, I’ll do a longer project like a croissant. It allows me to put my anxiety elsewhere and keep my hands busy. I focus on something that isn’t myself. By the end of the croissant making, I feel a lot less anxious. That’s, in part, why the account has become so addicting: I want to cook something every day because it is this important emotional release for me.
Is running the Instagram account your principal occupation? Do you monetize the account in any way?
@tenderherbs is my main thing right now, which is funny because I don’t make money from my Instagram. I do some projects here and there, but I found it hard to break into monetizing your account. I haven’t worked a 9-5 for about three and a half years now.
Have you always sought to connect with people through cuisine or was this the happy byproduct of developing an account that resonated with a wide audience?
Food was always a way that my family and I connected. My brother is huge into cooking – he got that from my mom. We had dinner together every single night growing up. My mom is the type of person who likes to order the whole menu when we go out so that we can try all the dishes. When my partner and I first started dating, we connected through food. I was just coming out of an eating disorder, and I was stressed about having to go on these dates and eat. The process of us getting to know each other and going out helped me remember and appreciate how good food is and how much connection happens over sharing a meal. I never really expected to connect with people I’d never met in my life through my Instagram and food I eat daily.
I admired the honesty of your post on June 12 in which you described your contending with body dysmorphia. I wonder if you could speak to the Catch-22 of needing social media to connect while knowing it perpetuates a dangerous eating culture among its users.
Throughout my teens and twenties, I never experienced disordered eating. It hit me when I was twenty-seven out of nowhere. Really hard. It’s something I’ve continued to struggle with since then. The “what I eat in a day,” that I touched on before can be really addicting to watch but incredibly toxic because I’ll be like I eat way more than that in a day or I don’t eat meals that seem as well-rounded. Having a food Instagram opens you up to people’s opinions about what you should and should not eat – as someone who struggles with disordered eating and who can be body dysmorphic, it is hard to shake those comments off. That particular day, this person was full-on shaming me for what I eat and cook, and it made me feel really bad. They made me wonder if I had gained weight and wonder whether I should eat dinner that night. I take it as progress to overcome those thoughts and take care of myself. My Instagram keeps me accountable.
To build on the previous point, how much of posting is for followers and how much is for yourself?
It’s both. I use my Instagram as a journal – especially with the captions. Maggie Nelson wrote in Bluets that people just want to be witnessed, and I think that’s so true. For me, the image of my Instagram is for people who follow me, and the caption is more for me. It’s a way that I can express what I’m thinking. Out of that, I can have what I’m feeling that day to be witnessed.
Since the pandemic, the dinner party has seen a renaissance: people of all ages got more into cooking and developed a new appreciation for intimate settings. What are the keys to the New Age dinner party?
A great playlist. I also think candles are key – I like the look of a moody dinner ambiance. Obviously, the food. I don’t ever want people to think that you need to depend on a good table-scape to have a dinner party, but I do think setting the table up makes a huge difference. It sets the mood for whatever you are trying to achieve that night. For Dinner Date, I wanted the night to have an air of romanticism. When I go out to dinner with my best friend, we have a date together. I put together a menu that sounded like what I would want to eat if I were going over to someone’s house to having a friend over. I wanted to make food that I felt comfortable preparing as well. Nothing I wouldn’t cook on a Saturday for dinner. I didn’t want the menu to be fancy or “special.” It was food that I would eat anytime of the week.
Where do you envision taking the account next?
My brother will sometimes bring up the idea of us having a place together in a forest up north where we basically serve two items with one seasonal special dessert. One day owning a small café with my brother would be a dream. For right now, I would love to continue doing Dinner Date – it was a fun and anxiety-inducing experience for me, but it made me really feel okay I can do this, and see that people do like my cooking. It was exciting that people wanted to be a part of something that I want to create. I would like to do more recipe sharing as well.
Anthony Bourdain wrote that “a good cook is a craftsman – not an artist.” Yet, each of your posts appear carefully composed with an attention to texture, color, and light. Have the rules changed? Is artistry a prerequisite to connecting with people through food now?
Browsing through my Instagram feed, a lot of the dishes that people are making look a lot more like art than food. It’s not my preferred way of eating or cooking – which may sound odd given the attention I give to the plating of a dish or ensuring there is vibrance and color in a post. But I do understand what Anthony Bourdain is saying. There are some food accounts which I follow that I can’t imagine are eating what they post at home for dinner. Social media has encouraged people to be more artistic and creative which is exciting, but for me personally, I don’t think it looks delicious to present one chargrilled onion and a balsamic reduction as a meal. For people that come to my account, I don’t ever want the impression to be that the food I am eating is somehow not within grasp. I want people to think that looks good, I want to try to make this.
Supermarkets and other food retailers are developing plans to label foods based on their eco-credentials after Oxford University researchers developed a computer algorithm to accurately judge the environmental impact of more than 57 000 products.
The team was led by Michael Clark and published its findings in the PNAS journal on Wednesday. Initially, the report outlines that ‘One barrier to enabling transitions to more environmentally sustainable food systems is the lack of detailed environmental impact information.’ With the intention of solving this problem, the team developed a computer model that essentially scores products based on four key factors; greenhouse gas emissions, land use, water stress, and eutrophication potential.
In the initial report, the algorithm used publicly available information of 57 000 different food products in order to demonstrate the power of the system, with the hope being that retailers will be able to give customers a clearer picture of how ‘eco’ their food really is in the future.
In fact, Crick told ‘The Independent that several corporations “have either already asked when this information is going to be available, or have asked ‘when can we use this’.”
It is expected that chains would initially display this information in a form similar to the ‘traffic-light’ system currently employed to help shoppers judge nutritional values with more detailed information available by scanning a QR code.
The actual findings from the initial study were perhaps unsurprising: as a general rule, plant-based foods faired better than meat alternatives with vegan sausages shown to have an impact 90% lower than that of their pork counterparts.
However, some revelations might prove more unexpected to the average shopper. For example, the nuts often found in pesto pasta sauces mean that it has a very high environmental impact. Popular breakfast cereals also scored poorly with granola revealed in the top-third worst scoring items. Other product categories such as chocolate and coffee are more dependent on the origin of the individual items themselves, with those developed more sustainably and closer to home far better scoring.
Other interesting revelations included the fact that, with a few exceptions such as nuts, food options with a higher nutritional value often also scored well on the eco-index.
The timeline for the introduction of these labels onto mainstream packaging is unclear. Still, the study does pave the way for a potentially revolutionary new way for eco-conscious consumers to make quicker and better-informed choices.
Everything about Chappell Roan is DIY. A glint of becoming shines through her music and style. Not only is the 24-year old’s look intended to appear “tacky, handmade, and a little rundown,” but she went from working part time at a donut shop to opening for Olivia Rodrigo in a matter of months. Her lyrics seize the flicker of complex queer feelings as they develop. Chappell’s knock-out rhythms and mesmerizing harmonies give voice to the unpronounced fears and excitements of growing up – and they were written from her bedroom in Missouri.
This summer, Chappell has sold-out shows at the Troubadour in Los Angeles and the Bowery Ballroom in New York, but that doesn’t stop her from teaching songwriting as Director of Music at a summer camp that she has attended since she was sixteen. She loves music, and her “slumber party pop” reflects this appreciation for sharing a song with people close to you – whether it be fans in a club or campers putting on a show.
The artist subverts traditional notions of showmanship by rendering consciously garish music and lyrics reflective of authenticity. Pink Pony Club, featured on Hayley Kiyoko’s “Pride” playlist on Apple Music and reaching over 10 million streams on Spotify, encapsulates the discrepancy between performance and reality: a jazz keyboard intro heightens our awareness to sitting in on a show; lyrics make us acknowledge the ways in which we perform on and off stage. Chappell spotlights the rough edges of these contradictions and smooths them into music.
How does Kayleigh Rose become Chappell Roan?
I have never felt super connected to my real name Kayleigh. My grandfather’s name was Dennis K. Chappell, so I took Chappell in his honor. Before he passed away in 2016 due to brain cancer, I told him that I was going to be Chappell for him. Roan came from his favorite song, which was called the Strawberry Roan, an old Western song about a pinkish red horse. It’s a very sentimental name. I do still wish my name was not Kayleigh in real life, though.
In 2017 you released your first album, ten weeks ago you opened for Olivia Rodrigo in an arena. What has surprised and excited you most about your swift success?
I surprised myself that I could do that. I’m independent. I don’t have a label’s bank or the power of an entire building that could move me through the industry in such a fast way. I did this with no money. I think people are scared to talk about the money aspect, but it’s one of the biggest – if not the biggest – parts of it all. We can talk about the passion – of course, that’s awesome, that’s what you need to drive you – but if you don’t have money you’re so set back. That’s what surprised me – having so little money and still being able to push through. Olivia and I have the same co-writer, so I had met her, but we’d never hung out one on one. She had heard Naked in Manhattan and My Kink is Karma before it they were released. She knew about me and asked me to play which was awesome.
You mentioned the money aspect, I’m wondering what were the biggest barriers you had to overcome to get to the point where you could sell out shows?
Most of last year I was working at a donut shop. That was until I got a publishing deal, which is not the same as a label. I got enough money that I didn’t need to work a part time job anymore. Then, I was really able to push my music forward. But it took me months to get over the fear of looking stupid on TikTok. I think 99% of artists go through hell doing TikTok, but you still have to take advantage of it. You have to be okay with tanking. Which is so heartbreaking. Because you see someone do super well, and then you try to replicate it, and it tanks. Then you don’t try, and it does great. It makes no sense. I decided to purposefully be stupid and not make any sense and just post what I like and what I think is funny. If anyone tries to bash me, it’s impossible because I’m already okay with it. I had to go there – be a little delusional. So, the fear of looking stupid and the fear of losing money. And a lot of hoping that you can pull something off. I had no idea if I could headline. Then it sold out. I had to face my fears: I look dumb, I don’t have a lot of money; let’s ride.
When you write music, is it more you sharing what’s on your mind or is it crafting a message that will resonate with fans?
It depends on the song. I consider my sound “slumber party pop.” That’s a super special part of childhood, at least for me. I’m lucky that I didn’t find sleeping over at other people’s houses to be a traumatic experience – I know for a lot of people that’s not the case. I loved going over to my friends’ houses and staying up all night jamming to Gaga and Ke$ha, but also listening to Adele and crying together, talking about that heavy heartbreak or crush. I try to capture that feeling of youth, pure bliss, and exploring sexuality. Pink Pony Club came from me wanting to be a Gogo dancer in L.A. but, truthfully, I’m not confident enough to do that, so I wrote a song about it. But my music also comes from real-life experience – the heaviness of heartbreak and confusion within queerness. Traditionally, if people wanted to label it, I would be bi, but I don’t feel like that’s it. I would date someone who was non-binary if it was right. So, I just say queer.
10.7 million streams on Spotify and 28.7k followers on Instagram. The numbers don’t add up. Why do you think that is?
My socials aren’t massive by any means so it’s not like people are discovering me through my socials. I think they find me more by word of mouth or the shows. If I wanted to get the deal that I want – a lot of money and a lot of freedom because I think that’s what my project deserves – I couldn’t get that right now because of my socials’ numbers. Because they don’t match. Because it doesn’t look on the outside like I’m doing awesome, but I can sell out shows.
On social media, more and more artists craft personas with a “curated authenticity” so that they can give fans an inside-look at their lives while maintaining a semblance of privacy. What demands do you face in terms of social media content and presentation?
It’s everything. Social media is the most demanding part of my job. Daily. I can’t really hate on it because it’s pushed me forward and people know about me because of it, though it’s the most soul-sucking part of my job. But I guess, within a capitalist system, there’s always going to be a part of your job that’s a little soul-sucking, and TikTok is it for me. It’s not that bad to make a TikTok, obviously. It’s not hard. It’s a fifteen second video. But that’s not the point. To some people, it comes naturally, and those people really soar, so it makes you feel bad about yourself if you try hard and it doesn’t work. To be honest, any video that I put out about my music automatically doesn’t do as well as a video of me doing something stupid, saying something nonsensical.
What artists across industries – music, film, fashion – most influence your creative output?
I pretty much base my aesthetic off what a pop star would have worn when I was 8. When I was little, I loved Bratz, the classic Barbie movies, Britney Spears, I was really into fairies and Spy Kids. My style is very influenced by cabaret, burlesque, queer culture, and drag. For music, my inspiration changes all the time. Right now, I really love the Pop Queens: Spice Girls, early 2000s Britney, Gaga. And anthemic pop: Shania Twain, Kate Bush, Cyndi Lauper. I’m a big fan of 90s rock as well and smaller indie rock from the early 2000s. Really all over the board.
How much does place impact your music?
Place impacts me immensely. I think it has to do with my upbringing. There isn’t really a place for showmanship in Missouri in the way that I would like. I want to purposely look “trashy,” not modest, very loud and provocative. To me that is a reflection of and an homage to burlesque. It’s consciously camp. Because I was not allowed to express that kind of showmanship in Missouri where I’m from, the pendulum has swung so far the other way. I don’t think I would have been as outgoing and obnoxious if I had been from the coasts. Because when I was Kayleigh Rose, I was performing all over town in coffee shops in Springfield Missouri and I was very modest. I always wore knee-length dresses and very high necks. Nothing like what I would wear now. I think L.A. and New York give me this freedom to be whatever I want and wear whatever I want.
In My Kink is Karma you negotiate the sincere emotional upheaval of a break-up and having a sense of humor – is this a balance you try to maintain throughout your work?
Dan, my main co-writer and producer, and I always try not to take every song too seriously. I think humor in pop music is great. Lizzo is amazing at that. Gaga is interesting because her camp is serious – Born This Way puts out an important message but still has a laugh behind it. I haven’t gotten to that point, but I’d like to get there. I think right now I’m in the humor category because I don’t know how to explore camp in a serious way. My Kink is Karma is purposely outrageous and funny. I want it to be fun and ridiculous.
Your single Femininomenon comes out this Friday. What does the name mean to you and how is the album different or maybe a culmination of your creative output up to this point?
This is where the queerness part comes in. It’s about the confusion I have in relation to my sexual relationships with men. Something is not connecting. I feel like every man I’ve been with is never satisfying. With a woman, it’s easy and different and wonderful. It’s a phenomenon. It’s a queer song – hidden in there. The song has to do a lot with going for a guy that doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you end up together and you thought this was what you wanted and it’s still just as bad as it was in the beginning. It’s the case for most relationships when you think it’ll get better the longer you stay together, and it just gets worse. It’s a phenomenon that this magical, perfect scenario somewhere out there exists, and it’s probably a woman in my case.
You talked about the inspiration for your music video for My Kink is Karma being burlesque and drag. The representation of female artists in the music industry has shifted significantly in recent years. What role does your image play – if any – in that narrative?
For me, I know that it’s not a label telling me to go out there and wear a mini skirt. I grew up in a heavily religious conservative area. The Midwest loves award shows – American idol, we fuel America’s Got Talent. It creates an Us and Them mentality – a conversation of why do they have to be so slutty? Why can’t pop stars just be modest? They don’t have to show all that skin. As a woman, I am allowed to look sexy and sexualize myself and feel like a sexual being, taking power in my body. I have no control or power over how others perceive me. I know my grandparents tell me that my voice is good enough and I don’t have to wear what I do. It’s almost an act of defiance to be in something very burlesque with nipple tassels, purposely drawing attention to my body. I can be in this outfit and still write a fucking good song and be a good singer. That feels empowering. As long as women feel empowered, then why the fuck does anyone care what they’re wearing? No one’s out there asking Bieber how does your fashion move feminism forward?
What are you most looking forward to about going on tour with Fletcher?
I love touring. I like how hard it is. The shows are the most exciting part, but they are only 30% of the tour. I haven’t toured since 2018! Just performing, that is what I’m most excited about.
What are the next steps for you?
Of course, Femininomenon,comes out this Friday. Before the tour in November, I have another song coming out. We have an album, so we’ll probably just finish the album and put it out at the beginning of next year. A solid, sold-out headline tour with this project is my goal. I want to play the album all over the place. I would love to go on an international tour. I would love to take it to the UK. I want to release amazing, fun merch and videos around it. I want to build this little world that I’ve always imagined and share it with everyone.
The slow death of liberty
Many people have been concerned by the frankly totalitarian policies floated by Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak in their desperate attempts to win over the most radical fringes of the Tory Membership. Lowlights include ‘reviewing’ the “woke nonsense” of Equalities Act 2010 – the Act which requires employers, service providers and the government to not discriminate against people on the basis of their race, sex, age, sexuality, etc. – and curtailing the abilities of unions to strike.
How much more concerned should we then be about those policies that have already been enacted? The litany is damning: the Police and Crime Sentencing Act 2022 imposed limits on long-established rights to protest and assembly; the Nationality and Borders Act 2022 criminalised people exercising their right to seek asylum; the Investigatory Powers Act 2016 allows government agencies to conduct warrantless surveillance… et cetera ad nauseum. One wonders why Dominic Raab seems so dead set on repealing the Human Rights Act when, at this rate, there will be little left to be taken away. (Though, for the record, the Law Society says his plans will nonetheless “damage the rule of law, prevent access to justice [and] reduce or remove rights, …”.)
This attack on civil liberties, however, is not a new phenomenon. In fact, it stretches back for at least the past few decades. The Blair government passed a series of acts which extended the length of time for which individuals can be detained prior to being charged – provided they are under investigation for terrorism offences – from the 24 hours established under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984 to up to 28 days under the Terrorism Act 2006. His administration was also complicit in the rendition (i.e. kidnap) and torture of British residents by the United States during the ‘War on Terror’. Before this, the Major government passed the Criminal Justice and Public Order Act of 1994 which, among other provisions, extended the ability for adverse inferences to be drawn from an individual remaining silent under questioning, banned the gathering of more than twenty people on public or private land at which music was played if it causes ‘serious distress’ to local residents, and created provisions for allowing people to be searched for simply being in a given area at a given time. This measure, of course, continues to result in a disproportionate number of BAME people being subjected to searches without warrants or even the suspicion of criminal activity.
These are just a few examples I’ve chosen to highlight. On their own, they may seem like reasonable – even necessary – provisions for living in a peaceful society. Who wants potential terrorists to be released by the police? Who wants ravers and protestors to be able to cause disruption to local communities with impunity? Who wants drug dealers, paedophiles and insurgents to be able to use the internet away from the watchful eyes of those agencies which keep us safe?
The problem with all these superficially defendable laws is that they fundamentally change our understanding of what a right is. Rights which can be suspended – whether for terrorists, criminals, protestors or ravers – are rights in name only: they are no longer inviolable, no longer inherently possessed by virtue of an individual’s humanity, no longer respected as a moral end. They become something conditionally granted by the state, to be freely taken away when it is politically or practically expedient: a means to some unstated societal goal that can be redirected when those in power see fit.
If Steve Bray can have his equipment seized and be threatened with prosecution simply for shouting the words ‘Stop Brexit’ at MPs too loudly, why could the same fate not befall anyone raising any grievance with the government – not least when it is the government themselves who gets to decide which protestors are too ‘disruptive’ for their liking? If terror suspects can be held for 28 days without bail, why not those suspected of shoplifting or speeding in the future? If our bodies and telecommunications records can be searched without suspicion or warrant, why not our homes if someone decides it’s in the best interest of national security? If rights are not treated as inherent and inviolable, there is no reason why any of these proposals are genuinely unthinkable; they are merely somewhat unlikely, at least, based on our almost non-existent abilities to predict the political future.
This may seem like an overblown reaction when we consider the Acts individually, and my opposition may at first seem naïve or even downright immoral given its real-world conclusion, e.g., making investigating serious criminals more difficult to investigate. But when we let the state violate the rights of some individuals for expedient purposes which we agree with, we open the door for those same rights to be denied to us and others for purposes we may seriously disagree with. It is for this reason that curtailing the right of any group – regardless of the right or the group, no matter how dangerous, distasteful or irritating they are – necessarily involves undermining every single right which our individual liberties rely upon.
And, of course, this is to say nothing of the rights which have already been effectively dismantled – like the right to silence, or to be free from warrantless surveillance by the state.
For all these reasons, we must strongly oppose the recent proposals of Liz Truss and Rishi Sunak as a free nation. Moreover, we must strive to have reinstated those rights which we have lost. But please be aware that these policies haven’t mysteriously appeared out of a totalitarian void. They are rather the natural progression of the slow death of liberty in this country – the next parts of the democratic body to be necrotised by an infection which has been growing quietly for at least the past fifty years.
One might be left wondering how all this has occurred so easily. Again, I suggest it is because we have failed to see rights as inherent and inviolable, but rather as granted and rescindable by the state. It is because we have failed to fervently accept and defend this principle that we fail to see that an attack on the rights of any one individual is an attack on the notion of rights in and of themselves. Then whatever policy is being proposed can be defended as pragmatic or even necessary in a given political age and its opposers presented as out-of-touch idealists or defenders of the most abhorrent sins in our society – rather than those deeply concerned with the conservation of liberty and healthy democracy. (Take, for example, Priti Patel smearing lawyers defending people facing deportation as ‘activists’, or Boris Johnson’s attack on the ‘lefty human rights lawyers’ who get in the way of his government breaking the law.) For these reasons, there is often little effective opposition, whether in the streets, or the media, or the opposition benches in the Commons. But when strong opposition can be mustered our hope is not lost: earlier in the year campaigners were able to block proposed revisions to the powers of judicial review which would have made it more difficult for victims of unlawful acts committed by the state to seek justice.
If none of this has managed to persuade you of the threat we face, please consider this. On the current trajectory, there might well be a time in the near future when a right you hold dear or essential to your liberty comes under attack – presented as ‘woke nonsense’ or too ‘disruptive’ for the wider community to put up with – and you will suffer the same fate as those who came before you. That is, unless we continually reassert and seek to reclaim the inherency and inviolability of our civil liberties through outcry, protest and legal action. And God help us to do so: the preservation of the health and character of our nation requires it.
Image: CC4.0: Wikimedia Commons