There are a few horror stories that
tend to get academic and critical attention—Frankenstein, Dracula,
The Turn of the Screw, The Yellow Wallpaper, maybe I Have No
Mouth And I Must Scream or something by Edgar Allen Poe. Everything else tends
to be blanketed as bottom-of-the-barrel pulp, dismissed as non-literary “popular
fiction”.
Recently I encountered an essay by
Jane Tompkins, commenting on the critical reception of 19th-century women’s
novels, which could easily describe the sort of elitism that claims the
inferiority of genre fiction. She notes that “critics have taught generations
of students to equate popularity with debasement, emotionality with
ineffectiveness”—anything that is read by millions stinks of the unwashed
masses; for decades even Dickens was merely a “great entertainer”, in the words
of F.R. Leavis. His criticism may be passé, but the assumptions it is grounded
in are still going strong. Just look at how few sci-fi, fantasy or horror films
make it to the Oscars.
But (to make a rather silly reference
to Poe) the pendulum is swinging the other way. Modern academics are reexamining
genre fiction, helped by a number of critical movements breaking down literary
elitism, and there’s a world of horror which is intelligent, complex and, most
importantly, terrifying. That’s why I’d like to nominate five counterparts to
the “literary” horror stories I’ve cited, as examples of what I think modern
horror has to offer.
The stories on this list are classics
for a reason, and even now Charlotte Perkins Gilman’s The Yellow Wallpaper
is spine-chillingly intense (perhaps because it hasn’t been adapted and
parodied to death). It’s a justifiably iconic feminist text and portrait of mental
instability, and the best counterpart to it is Asa Nonami’s Now You’re One
of Us. About a young woman slowly becoming suspicious that something is
wrong with her husband’s family, I first read it on the way to a restaurant,
and by the time I was there I literally felt nauseous. There’s no violence or
supernatural scares, just a terrifying portrait of gaslighting and emotional
manipulation. It takes the themes of Gilman’s story and places them in the
context of the dark side of Japanese traditions and hierarchies, weaving a
story that can sicken and fascinate.
Next on the list is a counterpart to Dracula.
While I considered some modern vampire novels, I settled on a left-field choice
that takes the fear of invasion and societal destruction that Bram Stoker
explores in a new direction. Liu Cixin’s The Three-Body Problem and its
sequels are technically sci-fi, but I found them disturbing enough to merit a
spot on this list. Instead of vampiric invaders, this novel imagines an
invading alien fleet and a terrifyingly plausible explanation for their
hostility. Instead of heroic men of the British Empire defeating a rapacious
foreigner, it’s a world rooted in the real horrors of the Cultural Revolution
and international politics. And while in Stoker’s novel the Count crumbles into
dust, in this series there are no easy solutions, only a bleak race to delay
doomsday.
Even as a devotee of Henry James, I
struggle to call The Turn of the Screw a horror story. It’s a haunting
psychological tale that merits multiple re-reads, but I find that James’ slow
and complex prose takes the horror out of the story. This may sound
hypocritical when the book I’m about to suggest is experimental both in plot
and format, but House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski is The Turn of
the Screw’s perfect counterpoint. James’ is a short story set in a
Victorian mansion, while Danielewski’s is a massive novel imagining an American
house which opens into a vast, ancient labyrinth. But they’re both about the
unreliability of knowledge, how trauma lingers in families, and the way good
people go mad, set in houses which become claustrophobic reflections of their
owners. Someone who wants a relatively simple horror story can focus on the
parts about the titular house and the mad, doomed expeditions through it, but I
found its metafictional weirdness and its interwoven narratives equally
fascinating. While you can rightly accuse it of being pretentious, as far as I’m
concerned, its cleverness outweighs its flaws.
The most recent entry on my list of
academically recognized horror stories, I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream
is essentially Harlan Ellison’s rendition of a nightmare, where bizarre
tortures are visited on the story’s protagonists by a godlike, demonic AI. Its
dream-logic finds a counterpart in the manga of Junji Ito, where anything and
everything can be frightening. I like to joke that his supernatural threats
were created via mad libs: zombie fish on robot spider-legs, human-shaped holes
in a mountain, a planet with a giant tongue, and spirals. Yes, this is a man
who made the idea of spirals terrifying. Psychologists talk about the
uncanny, the sense of something ordinary becoming strange, and Ito’s works find
horror in mundane scenarios and peaceful domestic scenes, taking root in the
irrational side of your subconscious. It’s delayed-action horror—when you first
read it, it’s absurd…but then, as night drags closer, you start to wonder why
you’re afraid.
And now, to conclude the list, a work
of fiction which parallels Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein as an exploration
of technological nightmares. For this, I reach not for lightning and revived
corpses, but our fears of surveillance, conspiracies and the fear that science
cannot explain this world, the building blocks of the SCP Foundation. It’s an
online collaborative fiction project, imagining the threats collected by a
secret organization whose purpose is to protect the world from the supernatural
nightmares that threaten normalcy. I could have written the entire article
about this site, whose contents range from comedic to heartwarming to stuff
that’ll keep you up at night. The sheer range of minds connected by this site
have yielded some of the most original works I’ve ever read, as much
philosophical puzzles as horror stories. They deal with the relationship of
fiction to reality, the failure of reason and human knowledge, moral dilemmas
and religious ones, and so much more. Reading them, I’m reminded of Jorge Luis
Borges’ short stories and how they all manages to explode some philosophical
idea with deceptive ease; the SCP Foundation, at its best, gives the lie to the
claim that genre fiction is just crude entertainment. It’s a microcosm of the
internet—at its worst it magnifies stupidity, but at its best it concentrates
brilliance.
Theodore Sturgeon famously noted that
critics who claim that 90% of science fiction is crap are in fact correct—and
that this statistic is true for all literature. “The best science fiction is as
good as the best fiction in any field,” he wrote. Times are changing for horror
fans, and for anyone who needs a little convincing that there’s true greatness
in the genre, perhaps my list will be your starting point.
The University of Oxford will grant all postgraduate research (PGR) students a four-week grace period before assessing whether they are liable to University Continuation Charges (UCC) in Hilary term.
This will allow students to submit their thesis by Friday of 4th week (12 February 2021) instead of the normal deadline of 0th week (15th January 2021) without incurring the UCC for Hilary. This could save PGR students up to £508 each.
The decision was made after a stretch of targeted lobbying by SU VP Graduates, Lauren Bolz, who urged the University’s Fees and Funding team to consider implementing the grace period.
This grace period will automatically be provided to you if you submit your thesis by 12 February 2021, and you will not need to apply for an academic extension to cover late submission of your thesis if it is submitted during the grace period.
While this grace period applies to UCC, it has not necessarily been extended to colleges’ continuation period. Oxford SU and Lauren Bolz have both pledged to continue to lobby colleges to support and match the University’s grace period.
The Oxford Union invited Graham Linehan, known by many for his anti-trans views, to speak in an upcoming debate. Linehan – who wrote and directed Father Ted and The IT Crowd – was invited to speak on the motion: ‘This House Would Cancel Cancel Culture’.
In the Union’s letter to Linehan of Tuesday 8 December, the President wrote that “it would be a great privilege were you to accept this invitation” and “it would be an honour if you were to join us in debate and continue this fine tradition” of hosting “world leaders from US Presidents Reagan, Nixon, Carter and Clinton, Sir Winston Churchill, iconic figures like Albert Einstein, Malcolm X, the Dalai Lama & Mother Teresa, musical stars from Sir Elton John to Michael Jackson to Shakira and many more”.
Responding to Linehan’s invitation and subsequent cancellation, a spokesperson for the Oxford Student Union LBGTQ Campaign commented: “These events are an inevitable result of the Union’s commitment to causing controversy rather than encouraging debate. The society has acted with poor judgement both in inviting Mr Linehan and in choosing to revoke that invitation, thereby opening themselves to the same accusations of ‘cancel culture’ they had originally sought to discuss. As a campaign, we are far more concerned by the original invitation as a testament to the very real and ongoing culture of transphobia at this university.”
In October 2018, Linehan was sued for harassment by Stephanie Hayden after he shared photos of her life before transitioning and had repeatedly misgendered and deadnamed her, as well as divulging her private details. He was issued with a verbal warning by the police to not contact her again. That same year he called anti-trans protestors at London Pride “heroes”.
This June, his Twitter account was permanently suspended following what Twitter described as: “repeated violations of our rules against hateful conduct and platform manipulation”. Earlier this month he created another account, posing as a trans man, which he used to call the Executive Director of Amnesty International Ireland a “traitor to women”. The account has since been deleted.
In the invitation, the Union expanded on the motion Linehan was invited to speak regarding further by saying: ‘“Cancel culture” is the boycott of the 21st century. To practitioners, cancel culture is a new way of holding public figures and even companies accountable for their actions. Does cancel culture really facilitate the redemption of people? Or does it simply encourage virtue signalling rather than enduring progress? If so, does it truly justify the destruction of the reputation and livelihoods of public figures?’
The Union later cancelled the invitation on the grounds that they can no longer accommodate “Mr Linehan due to logistical difficulties, and feel it would be unfair to pursue this at this time”. They do, however, indicate that they “very much hope to accommodate him in the future”.
An Oxford Union spokesperson said: “It is Union policy to not discuss preparations for future events until the release of the next term card. Debates go through multiple line ups based on a variety of factors, especially during this year, and this term is no different.”
In the Substack forum where Graham Linehan shared this news (in a post which has since been deleted), he commented: “Wow, what an opportunity to really get to grips with cancel culture and what it means to our society. I’d better start thinking about the line I’m going to take, and give a few examples of oh wait no it’s been cancelled.”
Big Thief’s album covers — hazy, warm-eyed snapshots of earthy nostalgia — are a fitting prelude to their deeply intimate folk music gnarled among vocal and instrumental tapestries. Their songs are all-encompassing and circular—they stretch around notes and harmonies in a manner that reflects their performance style. In concert, the band members cluster around each other as a single organism.
On her latest solo album songs / instrumentals, Adrianne Lenker, Big Thief’s singer, distils the lush intimacy of the band’s discography into space: the space between notes, the silence between windchimes, the pregnant stillness before the cacophony of rain, the distance separating people. In the Spring, as the pandemic hit the United States, Lenker fled to a Massachusetts cabin where, in the aftermath of a breakup and the covid-induced cancellation of Big Thief’s tour, she proceeded to write and record a new album. Although two separate albums, songs and instrumentals are co-dependent explorations of grief and memory. The songs, which were recorded straight to tape, feature relics of recording typically purged in the production process — the taps of wood against fingernail, the brush of skin across a taut guitar string, the creak of a wooden chair. Instrumentals has no vocals; the second (and final) track of the album is a meditation by wind chime.
The writing on songs is some of Lenker’s best, drawing on painfully vivid imagery to capture memories as they are present in our minds — fragments of smells and tastes flirting with one another until they all lose shape. “Everything is constantly being born and decaying simultaneously,” Lenker explained in an interview with GQ. “We’re both growing and becoming, and also unbecoming and decaying simultaneously.” On the song ‘Ingydar’, Lenker’s words paint a blooming portrait of decay — a beautiful and macabre defiance of time.
Drying blueberries, figurines and the angel leans
At the head of the bed
The juice of dark cherries cover my chin
The dog walks in and the crow lies in his smile like lead
Everything eats and is eaten, time is fed
Many of the songs on songs / instrumentals are painfully private, addressed to a past girlfriend with lyrics so precise that listening feels like a violation of human relationship. “I wanna witness your eyes looking,” she sings on ‘anything’. “I wanna listen to the sound of you blinking.” The space between Lenker and her addressee expands and contracts, delving into the microscopic (the “Mango in your mouth, juice dripping / Shoulder of your shirtsleeve slipping” ) and the cosmic (“Weren’t we the stars in Heaven / Weren’t we the salt in the sea”). She sings directly to her, and in these verses, we disappear altogether:
You held me the whole way through
When I couldn’t say the words like you
I was scared Indigo but I wanted to
The album delves deeply into the dichotomy between the verdant and the bleak, locked into a consuming embrace over life and death. On ‘come’, the pitter-patter of rain, accompanied by gentle guitar, swells urgently into a comfortable solace with death: “Take my life into your life/Take a branch with your knife/Come help me die, my daughter.” The emotional fulcrum of the album is ‘zombie girl’, a song that starts with Lenker waking up from a dream about an absent lover, and which grows into exploring emptiness and the space that solitude occupies. Birdsong interrupts throughout — a reminder of life and wakefulness in a piece about the unbearable weight of absence. The track closes with the whispered buzzes of a fly, circling above an undead love, crescendoing into silence.
Sleep paralysis, I sworn I could’ve felt you there
And I almost could’ve kissed your hair
But the emptiness withdrew me
From any kind of wishful prayer
Oh, emptiness
Tell me ‘bout your nature
Maybe I’ve been getting you wrong
Instrumentals consists of two tracks — ‘music for indigo’ and ‘mostly chimes’. The first, a nearly 20-minute piece, was written by Lenker as a backdrop for her former girlfriend to fall asleep to. Careful guitar melodies and windchimes paint a swirling picture of tender love: gentle, all-encompassing, nurturing affection that had been caressed and cultivated with painful understanding over the course of songs. On ‘mostly chimes’, the emptiness disseminating throughout the album returns in a quiet coda. The track starts with sparse guitar, disappearing in crests to give way to the sounds of wind, leaves, and chimes. The song is the aftermath of emptiness, of leaving, of retreating, of venturing into cabins in Massachusetts, of breakups, of heartbreak. “Oh, emptiness/Tell me ‘bout your nature,” Lenker asks. On ‘mostly chimes’, emptiness answers.
Originating from Baltimore, Future Islands were three albums into their acclaimed discography when they hit the mainstream in 2014 with their iconic Letterman performance of ‘Seasons (Waiting on You)’, a single which went on to be named the song of the year by Pitchfork, NME and The Guardian (high praise indeed). They followed up on their newfound popularity with 2017’s The Far Field, an energetic set of hits that cemented their style and featured a cameo from none other than Debbie Harry. Now, Future Islands have returned with their sixth studio album, As Long As You Are.
On As Long As You Are, Future Islands stay faithful to their signature sound – a passionate layering of powerful basslines, synthesisers and driving drumbeats that has become their trademark. But this familiar sound has been taken in new directions, with a stronger emphasis on more personal, emotional, and reflective tracks, interspersed between the band’s more characteristic, upbeat numbers.
There are moments of beauty and heartbreak, particularly on the more subdued ‘I Knew You’, which takes the listener on a journey through a toxic past relationship, and the moving single ‘Thrill’. On the latter, lead singer Samuel T. Herring is at his most vulnerable, as he reflects on past issues with addiction and social isolation. These sadder tracks are sonically beautiful – simplistic in their melodies, yet hard-hitting in their storytelling.
Not wanting to dampen the mood too much, these more sombre moments are more than matched by the energetic, synth-laden anthems for which Future Islands are best known. The lead single ‘For Sure’ is perhaps the standout track of the album; synth and bass roll over each other during the verses, building to a surging, euphoric chorus in which Herring declares “I will never keep you from an open door”, capturing the song’s messages of love and trust. Fans of 80s synthpop will be drawn towards ‘Waking’, with its bursts of pulsing synth and its upbeat rhythm, reminiscent of the likes of OMD and New Order. The album finishes on this note too, with ‘Hit the Coast’, a new fan-favourite that would feel at home on any road trip playlist.
One of As Long As You Are’s key strengths is its demonstration of the power of Herring’s vocals, so raw with emotion that at times you can feel his anguish through the music. This coincides with Herring’s distinctively more introspective and thoughtful songwriting, his lyrics grappling with a range of personal challenges and timely political issues.
‘Born in a War’, a pounding track where bassist William Cashion really comes into his own, tackles issues from gun violence to toxic masculinity: “You’re scared/that when a strong man cries/is when a strong man dies,” Herring laments. He despairs at the prevalence of alcoholism and gun culture in rural America (“Raised up in a town that’s 80 proof/Shotgun shells under every roof”) – all of this against a backdrop of shimmering synthesisers and one of the band’s most powerful basslines.
On ‘Plastic Beach’, Herring presents a moving description of his struggles with body dysmorphia and self-deprecation, most poignantly in the lines: “Spent a lifetime in the mirror/picking apart what I couldn’t change/But I saw my mother, my father, my brother/in my face”. It is this vulnerability in Herring’s songwriting that marks the biggest shift for Future Islands; the tracks, while maintaining their easy, indie-pop vibe, have a deeper meaning.
Perhaps the only thing the record is missing is the punchy energy that courses through much of the band’s earlier work. Previous albums The Far Field and Singles jump from hit to hit, with each song capable of getting you on your feet. As Long As You Are, on the other hand, is punctuated by more subdued and sombre tracks that slow the pace of the record. However, whether this is necessarily a bad thing, I feel, is a matter of personal taste. For me, there is something about the album’s less formulaic composition that sets it apart – it has a delightful mix of upbeat anthems and deeply personal and powerful lyrics, that combine to give the album a level of emotion that isn’t felt in much of the band’s previous work. As Long As You Are is a brilliant addition to Future Islands’ discography; one that sees the band exploring new avenues and tackling the big issues, while remaining faithful to their trademark sound.
It’s been a testing year, but the music hasn’t stopped. From impressive debuts to lockdown albums from well-established favourites, 2020 has seen its fair share of new tunes. Yet the shared listening experience has seemed more precarious than ever: no live music; no sweaty, gleeful club nights; no new relationships to set against a carefully-curated soundtrack. Albums and songs have been digested solo, earbuds plugged back in while the UE Boom collects dust in a corner. So it is by recommending music to one another that we may find a new way of connecting through the sounds of the year 2020, from one locked-down household to another, from tier to tier.
As a parting gift, Cherwell wanted to get as many of its readers involved as possible, challenging contributors to review a selection of music released in 2020 in just one sentence – and they certainly delivered. So, here it is: Cherwell‘s list of albums and songs to listen to before the year ends.
Albums
Aluna – Renaissance
Aluna’s voice sounds amazing on these clean, quirky pop tunes with some mad feature guests. Danny Roade
Fiona Apple – Fetch the Bolt Cutters
A genre-defying rock album stepping on the patriarchy. Sophia Zu
Alina Baraz – It Was Divine
You think it’s chill, and then it hits you with something real. Lucie de Gentile
beabadoobee – Fake It Flowers
Bea Kristi diverges from her bedroom pop roots on this angsty, guitar-driven album, which is 90s to the core. Sofia Henderson
Bohren & Der Club of Gore – Patchouli Blue
Smooth, sultry saxophone blends seamlessly with a noirish ambiance in the new set of Lynchian soundscapes from this German outfit, the acknowledged progenitors of ‘Dark Jazz’. Frank Milligan
Phoebe Bridgers – Punisher
On hating Nazis, daddy issues, and the apocalypse – the perfect album for 2020. Sophia Zu
BTS – BE
The iconic kpop group’s self-written and produced lockdown album has some highlights, such as ‘Telepathy’, but is simply more of what we’ve heard before. Sofia Henderson
Charli XCX – how I’m feeling now
A punchy gift from the hyperpop genre, this lockdown-curated treat will simultaneously get you in the feelings and inspire you to dance alone in your room like the main character that you are. Jennifer Goodier
Dan Deacon – Mystic Familiar
Think Animal Collective if they took even more psychedelics: grandiose, poignant, life-affirming. Alec Holt
Drive-By Truckers – The Unravelling
Lamenting children in cages, theocracy, the opioid epidemic, and gun control, Drive-By Truckers’ middle America sound weeps from within for the damage that can’t be reversed even once Biden is in office. Perfect to “stick up your ass with your useless thoughts and prayers”. Angela Eichhorst
Eartheater – Phoenix: Flames Are Dew Upon My Skin
A deeply personal, deeply sexual, utterly ethereal meeting of glitchy electronica and folk, with individual narratives of love, loss, and resurgence told in terms of primordial geological processes by one of the most singular voices in contemporary music. Alec Holt
Roger Eno and Brian Eno – Mixing Colours
A great instrumental/ambient album which has helped me in many a study crisis. Thomas Barker
Alexis Ffrench – Dreamland
Even if you’ve never liked piano albums, you have to try this one. Pretty modern-sounding but definitely not boring: Alexis is so skilled. Danny Roade
Jack Garratt – Love, Death & Dancing
Painfully raw and bitter-sweet at times, Garratt writes music with honesty and sincerity. Katherine Schutte
Hannah Grace – Remedy
Remedy is honest, sensitive, and warm – these are songs written from the heart, for the soul. Katherine Schutte
JARV IS… – Beyond the Pale
Great and groovy tunes from the northern legend. Best track: ‘Must I Evolve?’ Thomas Barker
Ka – Descendants of Cain
A truly Biblical experience, with Ka brutally detailing his life through allusion to the Hebrew Bible and unmatched lyricism. Oliver Hogg
The Killers – Imploding The Mirage
This album gives my younger Mr. Brightside-loving self some much needed nostalgia, and has re-ignited my love for The Killers (not that it ever really went away). Danielle Perro
Adrianne Lenker – songs / instrumentals
Heartbreak and solitude have never been written about so tenderly. Sophia Zu
John Lennon – Gimme Some Truth
A great reissue of Lennon’s finest: great to walk to! Thomas Barker
Fenne Lily – BREACH
The Bristol songwriter is Britain’s answer to Phoebe Bridgers – I knew the name from when my sister saw her supporting youtuber Dodie about 5 years ago, but the songs on BREACH are mature, many-layered, and infinitely cryable. Fred Waine
Tkay Maidza – Last Year Was Weird, Vol. 2
A compelling 25-minute listen from quick-witted Australian rapper Maidza, who is already onto her fourth extended release aged just 23. Best track: ‘Awake’ ft. JPEGMAFIA Fred Waine
Terrace Martin, Robert Glasper, 9th Wonder – Dinner Party
Atmospheric, melodic hip-hop – it fills your ears. Orna Rifkin
Declan McKenna – Zeros
Channeling 1970s space vibes which Bowie would certainly be proud of, McKenna’s latest release deals sublimely with the ‘Key to Life on Earth’, all whilst in the musical realm of outer space. Jennifer Goodier
Zeros, in almost every way, is bigger than McKenna’s debut, taking on influences from the past to create a thought-provoking exploration of a complex world: a record full of urgency and theatrical crescendos. Elena Buccisano
Memnon Sa – World Serpent
I know nothing about the band Memnon Sa beyond the fact that this album is a swirling, majestic exploration of cosmic forces: The Comet Is Coming would be proud of that blistering sax and – is that the voice of Sinead O Brien, one of 2020’s outstanding British vocalists, on ‘Golden Ram Of The Sun’? Fred Waine
MisterWives – SUPERBLOOM
Delicious and a wonderful pick-me up. Angela Eichhorst
Emily Montes – Emily Montes
Album made by a six-year-old tiktoker. Orna Rifkin
Moor Mother – Circuit City
A vital poetic rail against the racial and class-based discriminations of the US housing system, adapted from a 2019 stage production set in an imminent big-tech-ruled dystopia and soundtracked by the liberation technology that is free jazz. Alec Holt
Moor Jewelry – True Opera
Vocalist Moor Mother and producer Mental Jewelry combine for a gut punch of a rock album with a heavy punk ethos. Oliver Hogg
Fish Narc – WiLDFiRE
With this debut album, Fish Narc combines the nostalgic sounds of 90s/00s emo with subtle influences from hip-hop, offering an ode to pop-punk with an interesting twist. Charlie Croft
Navy Blue – Àdá Irin
One of the most personal releases of the year from renaissance man Sage Elsesser, with a catchiness unparalleled in other abstract hip-hop releases. Oliver Hogg
Nazar – Guerilla
A breathtaking collage of gunfire, muffled dialogue, and glitchy beats, inspired by experiences of the Angolan civil war. Fred Waine
Oh Wonder – No One Else Can Wear Your Crown
These are songs that make you feel alive. Katherine Schutte
Oneohtrix Point Never – Magic Oneohtrix Point Never
Fresh off a pair of space-aged soundtracks for the Safdie brothers, Lopatin’s latest might be his most accessible yet, fusing elements of pop and psychedelia into his trademark collages of abstract electronics. Frank Milligan
Oranssi Pazuzu – Mestarin kynsi
Colossally heavy, headily atmospheric psychedelic black metal from Finland which thankfully doesn’t take itself too seriously: more accessible thank you might think! Alec Holt
Kelly Lee Owens–Inner Song
Some really soothing songs made of spacey, energetic electronic beats. Danny Roade
Knxwledge – 1988
One of the best beatmakers showing off his masterful sampling with super-replayable instrumentals. Danny Roade
PLK – Enna
If foreign rap is something you dabble in, PLK’s new album (French) is definitely worth a listen; also great for waking up on your way to a tute. Eva Vang-Mathisen
Raye – Euphoric Sad Songs
A good soundtrack to being a mess with confidence. Lucie de Gentile
San Cisco – Between You And Me
As always, San Cisco’s brand of catchy pop rock guarantees a good time. Deepra Sinha
Alexandra Savior – The Archer
Savior’s second album is sad girl central, and feels notably softer and more authentic than her debut. Sofia Henderson
Rina Sawayama – SAWAYAMA
Sawayama emerges shimmering on her debut LP, featuring the stand-out 2000s-inspired pop tracks ‘XS’ and ‘Comme des Garçons’. Sofia Henderson
Shit and Shine – Malibu Liquor Store
Veteran underground hedonists Shit and Shine gruffly transport the listener to an amorphous backwater landscape of narcotic-filtered triple suns and “Hillbilly Moonshine” with this curious store of lurching, stifling Krautrock rhythms. Alec Holt
Soccer Mommy – color theory
Sorry Phoebe Bridgers, but Soccer Mommy actually released the best album about being sad this year. Deepra Sinha
Songhoy Blues – Optimisme
Songhoy Blues go rock! Probably the most important West African band of this century, the Malians add another layer of fuzz and swagger to their joyous desert-blues sound on Optimisme. Fred Waine
The Streets – None of Us Are Getting Out of This Alive
A great mixtape: very witty and contemporary! Thomas Barker
The Strokes – The New Abnormal
New York indie-rock legends produce a fittingly melancholic album after a seven year hiatus – and it has absolutely no skips. Sofia Henderson
Tame Impala – The Slow Rush
There’s no better way to appreciate the immaculate presentation of time by Kevin Parker on this album than during lockdown, where both ‘One More Hour’ and ‘One More Year’ suddenly hold so much more significance. Jennifer Goodier
Taylor Swift – Folklore
Not exactly unheard of but a definite new direction for Swift as a songwriter and a must-listen for Swifties and non-Swifties alike. Clementine Scott
Thundercat – It Is What It Is
Jazz training brought to bear on hip-hop and electronic genres – It Is What It Is forces you to stop and listen. Orna Rifkin
Yves Tumour – Heaven To A Tortured Mind
A genre-bending tour de force of rock, pop and soul from one of experimental music’s boldest figures, its songs as precisely constructed and visceral as they are radical in their aesthetic scope. Frank Milligan
Loud, anti-pop pop – intense. Orna Rifkin
‘Gospel For A New Century’ is an epic opening track that could get anyone into psych-rock, and Yves is such a character too. Danny Roade
Tricot –真っ黒 (Makkuro)
As catchy and compulsively relistenable as anything you’ll hear this year, the Japanese quartet’s first of two 2020 releases sees their singular bubblegum approach to math rock at its most refined. Frank Milligan
Anna von Hausswolff – All Thoughts Fly
The Swedish organist finds herself in even more ethereal territory than the song-oriented efforts of her past records, eschewing conventional structure in favour of a kind of liturgical drone. Frank Milligan
White Boy Scream – BAKUNAWA
A harrowing experimental classical noise project that will make your ears ring with masochistic joy. Oliver Hogg
Hayley Williams – Petals For Armor
Born out of therapy, this relatively unconventional solo debut from Hayley Williams is a welcome and laudable progression from her Paramore roots. Deepra Sinha
Yaeji – WHAT WE DREW
Electronic dance-y stuff that packs lots of punch. Orna Rifkin
EPs
Bring Me the Horizon – POST HUMAN: SURVIVAL HORROR
In true cyber-punk style, BMTH attack the misery of lockdown in a series of apocalyptic ballads which serenade the ‘end’ of humanity as we know it. Jennifer Goodier
Christine and the Queens – La Vita Nova
A raw take on heartbreak, this EP featuring the incredible Caroline Polachek simultaneously tugs on the heartstrings and supplies fiery emotional intensity, all within the space of 6 songs. Jennifer Goodier
Jockstrap – Wicked City
As if being known as the next big thing in classical-EDM crossover wasn’t enough, London duo Jockstrap expand their palette on Wicked City to cover abstract hip-hop, stadium rock and opera. Fred Waine
Slauson Malone – Vergangenheitsbewältigung
Slauson Malone delivers an emotional storm on this melodic soundscape of plunderphonics and jazz, the title of which translates as ‘coming to terms with one’s past’. Oliver Hogg
Soham De –About Happier Things
Recorded during lockdown, Soham’s alluring voice and expressive piano make for a wonder. Deepra Sinha
Soundtracks
Baltic House Orchestra – ‘Blue Monday’ (From the Wonder Woman 1984 Trailer)
After a year of waiting for the ever-delayed Wonder Woman 1984 movie, I have managed to find some respite in this orchestral version of the music from the original trailer (the fact that desperation has led me so far as to look for alternative versions of music from a trailer does add a particular 2020 flair to the experience as yet another let down in a long list). Aside from this discouraging context, the music itself is exciting, up-beat and takes the listener to a world of action which I would thoroughly recommend. Naomi Reiter
Alex Baranowski – Staged (Music from the TV Series)
Great instrumental pieces from a lovely show that helped me cope in the first lockdown. Thomas Barker
Julia Holter – Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
A master of textural subtlety, Holter once again proves her versatility with this sometimes-poignant, always-anxious synth/horn soundtrack to one of the best films of 2020. Fred Waine
Singles
Deathcrash – ‘People thought my windows were stars’
A stellar post-rock number from a group who somehow manage to sound simultaneously like Bill Ryder-Jones and Slint – guaranteed to be the best 15 minutes of your year. Fred Waine
LP – ‘How Long Can You Go’ and ‘The One That You Love’
Anything LP puts out is worth a listen – she’s only released two singles this year but rate them both. Eva Vang-Mathisen
Night Traveler – ‘Carolina’
“I’ve been right here feelin’ everything” – relatable. Lucie de Gentile
Nubya Garcia – ‘Pace’
Dubby, groovy, inspired – a wicked lead single from the London saxophonist who also has a strong case for having released the best jazz album of 2020. Fred Waine
Tame Impala – ‘Lost in Yesterday’
One long smooth wave to ride on. Eva Vang-Mathisen
Shrimp – ‘Fear of Failure / Scared of Success’
The contrast of the alt-rock instrumental and synths brings about an out of body experience while, ironically, Shrimp sings about being trapped. Charlie Croft
Huge thanks to all of our contributors and readers for a great Michaelmas!
The COVID-19 pandemic has reduced students’ confidence that they will be able to find a job after graduating and what salary they will be earning, according to research from Bright Network.
A majority of graduates surveyed (65%) said they were not confident that they would be able to get a graduate role, and 85% said uncertainty caused by the pandemic increased the amount of pressure they felt to find employment. The news comes as the UK unemployment rate rose from 4.5% to 4.8%, with people aged between 16-24 particularly badly effected. 14.6% of people within this age group who are “economically active” – excluding students or people unable to work due to illness, disability or caring duties – are unemployed.
The researchalso found that the earning potential of new graduates fell from £27,000 at the beginning of 2020 to £25,980. This is despite initiatives such as the UK government’s Kickstart Scheme, which offers employers £2000 for every person aged between 16-24 on Universal Credit they employ.
The approval of the Pfizer vaccine against COVID-19, which the NHS began to deliver in December, has not improved graduates’ confidence. Only 21% felt the vaccine increased their confidence that they would find a graduate role. This indicates graduates fear that the economic recovery from the pandemic will be slow. The UK economy fared worse than any other G7 nation, falling 20.4% in the three months before June 2020. The Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) warned that the UK suffered the second-worst hit to their economy out of 37 member nations, and that the country stood at a “critical juncture” as it leaves the EU Single Market at a time when scientists are warning of a potential “third wave” of COVID infections.
Bright Network, who describe their mission as connecting “ambitious young people from all backgrounds with the best career opportunities” also identified how inequalities between students affected their confidence in finding a graduate position. Privately-educated students were 21% more like than those from state schools to say they had the right network to help them find employment. First generation students were also disadvantaged at continuing their education, with 70% complaining of a lack of access to adequate workspaces, and 42% saying their internet connection was consistently “poor”.
Graduates have responded to the uncertainty caused by the pandemic by looking for ways to make themselves more appealing to potential employers. 60% of students polled said they were planning on continuing their education beyond their undergraduate degree in order to stand out in a competitive employment market. 90% also said they wanted employers to help students by providing them with opportunities to learn key skills at university.
Commenting on the findings, the CEO of Bright Network James Uffindell said “Our Talent Tracker continues to highlight the real and long-lasting impacts the pandemic will have on the UK’s young people looking to begin their careers. Students’ persistent concerns about fewer employment prospects, despite the great news about the vaccine roll-out, tell us that the challenges students face to secure the right graduate job will persist beyond the pandemic – we know that the economy won’t bounce back immediately.
“It’s imperative that as we look ahead to 2021 and a recovery from the pandemic, we ensure the next generation are given the best skills training and opportunities to help build back the economy we need”.
Questions have been raised about the business practices of one of Oxford University’s most prominent donors – who gave £150 million to the University in 2019 – after comments he made at the Goldman Sachs US Financial Services Virtual Conference.
Stephen Schwarzman, the Chairman, CEO and Co-Founder of Blackstone, an investment firm – with a personal worth of $20 billion – said that “Blackstone was a huge winner coming out of the global financial crisis. And I think something similar is going to happen [following the pandemic].
“Now, about half of the firm’s earnings are from a real estate business. Just to give you some idea how this breaks, we pick the good neighbourhoods, if you will. Real estate has a lot of different sub asset classes. And we’ve concentrated in logistics. It’s about 36% of all the real estate we own. We’re the largest owner of real estate in the private world. And that asset class has boomed with huge increases in rents, almost no occupancies, rent collections from almost everyone”.
The comments come as renters across the globe face losing their homes as a result of the pandemic. At the same time, Blackstone has been accused of increasing rates for its tenants and filing eviction cases. A spokesperson for Blackstone told Cherwell: “The comments made were specifically related to our investments in the logistics space and were characterized as such at the time. Any implication that these comments relate to our investments in the housing space or that we are pursuing evictions is entirely inaccurate.”
City Monitor has reported that rent levels for housing owned by Blackstone in Torrejón de Ardoz in Spain have risen during the pandemic for properties which previously had rent controls. In certain instances, this led to rates nearly doubling, with some tenants saying they will be unable to afford to continue living in their homes.
The Private Equity Stakeholder Project has also recorded instances of Blackstone filing for evictions of tenants from its properties in America, despite the pandemic and the eviction moratorium designed to protect renters. Overall, 30 to 40 million people in America are deemed to be at risk of eviction following the expiration of the eviction moratorium.
Following the 2008 financial crisis, Blackstone bought up thousands of properties which were either mortgaged by banks or were former social homes sold off by governments to try and raise funds. In a recent UN report, Blackstone was identified as a lead contributor to the current housing crisis. Leilani Farha, a UN special rapporteur, explained: “Properties are being purchased en masse, renovated and then offered at a higher rental rate, pricing tenants out of their own homes and communities.” Blackstone’s full response to these allegations can be found here.
It also has long-term investments in areas such as global logistics, which have performed relatively strongly during the pandemic. Schwarzman told Robert Peston in 2008 that “the real golden age comes when you have a mess. You have economies that are on their back. You know, capital inadequate. And when you start buying businesses at that part in the cycle you inevitably do extremely well”. Schwarzman has certainly done extremely well – Michael Gross, author of a book about the building the tycoon lives in, describes him as “the epitome of American capitalism.”
In response to the allegation that such business practices during a pandemic may be unethical, Blackstone told Cherwell: “This comment was in response to a question about the types of firms investors chose to allocate capital to after the financial crisis. We are proud to have earned the trust of investors around the globe, including pension funds representing tens of millions of retirees, by focusing on careful sector selection and deploying capital in areas that we believe can be resilient across economic cycles.”
“We are not evicting tenants during these challenging times. The only cases of eviction that have been filed involve matters of public nuisance and/or risk to public health or public safety. Our first priority is ensuring the safety and health of our residents, while making sure they can remain in their homes, and we have rolled out financial relief options across our portfolio of residential properties.”
In 2019, Oxford University announced that Schwarzman had donated £150 million towards humanities and artificial intelligence research. This was the single largest donation in the University’s history. The new Stephen A Schwarzman Centre for the Humanities, which will be built with the money, is set to open for the 2024/25 academic year. It will house seven faculties in order to encourage “cross-disciplinary and collaborative study”.
Oxford University’s decision to accept Schwarzman’s money led to controversy, with an open letter signed by forty-two locals, students, academics, councillors and activists claiming that the donation came from “the proceeds of the exploitation and disenfranchisement of vulnerable people across the world”. At the time a spokesperson for Blackstone said that “the allegations which were put to us are false and unsupported by the facts” and that they act in full compliance with all applicable laws, rules and regulations.
A spokesperson for Oxford University told Cherwell: “Mr Schwarzman has been approved by our rigorous due diligence procedures which consider ethical, legal, financial and reputational issues. The idea of a humanities building has been in ongoing discussion and consultation for more than a decade but we did not have funding for the building until Mr Schwarzman’s gift. The Schwarzman Centre for the Humanities will benefit teaching and research in the humanities at Oxford; its performing arts and exhibition venues will bring new audiences to the University; and it will build upon our world-class capabilities in the humanities to lead the study of the ethical implications of AI”. In February, the University refused to release documents to Oxford Students’ Union relating to the vetting of Schwarzman’s donation.
Schwarzman has donated to a number of educational institutions in addition to Oxford University, including the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Yale. He is also a prominent Republican, who backed Donald Trump and spent over $27 million in donations to US politicians this year. Bloomberg’s analysis of election funding found that Schwarzman had given Trump’s re-election campaign $3.7 million of the $4.8 million that Blackstone had raised from the U.S. financial industry in the previous 18 months, far more than any other figure or business in American finance.
The Financial Times also reported that, in a call with senior business leaders, Schwarzman appeared to defend Trump’s challenge to the 2020 election results, asking “whether other participants did not find it surprising that early votes in Pennsylvania had favoured Mr Trump, only for later counts to tip the state in Mr Biden’s favour”. In a later statement, Schwarzman said: “In my comments three days after the election, I was trying to be a voice of reason and express why it’s in the national interest to have all Americans believe the election is being resolved correctly. But the outcome is very certain today, and the country should move on.” He continued: “Like many in the business community, I am ready to help President-elect Biden and his team as they confront the significant challenges of rebuilding our post-Covid economy.”
Image Credit: World Economic Forum (www.weforum.org), swiss-image.ch/Photo by Remy Steinegger. Licence: CC-BY-SA 2.0.
Even over the grainy zoom call with my mum – an A-Level psychology teacher – I can’t help but notice the exhaustion in her face and voice. It is always difficult to maintain momentum in the long autumn school term, especially as the evenings draw in and the approach of Christmas provides a ready distraction from the work at hand. However, this year has been particularly draining. We spoke after she had just finished another day trying to teach effectively despite the technical challenges posed by ‘blended’ lessons and the ever-shifting regulations around school. And yet the thing causing most concern for her students and colleagues was not the problem of how to engage a class when half of the students are only intermittently present through video call, but the uncertainty surrounding assessment and exam grading.
Coronavirus has placed additional strain on schools and educational institutions over the last nine months, and has brought to light existing weaknesses in a system struggling after years of cuts and chronic underfunding. We have suddenly become aware of residual issues such as the lack of transparency within qualifications providers or the mistrust of teachers and their predicted grades. The particular pressures of the pandemic have also brought their own challenges, highlighted most shockingly in the recent unwillingness to extend free school meal programmes over school holidays. However, alongside these other concerns, one of the deeper flaws that coronavirus has exposed is how our current education system is made to serve exams rather than students. The emphasis falls on standardised testing at the expense of broader discussions about the state and purpose of education in the UK. Too often, learning is sacrificed in the attempt to sort, judge and appraise pupils, and in this drive to ascribe value to students, we risk losing sight of what learning can and should be: an ongoing, unfolding and communal process.
The prioritisation of assessment over learning is a problem that predates the pandemic, and is evident in the way we structure and conceptualise pedagogy in the UK. The academic cycle is centred around the exam period in May and June, and each year there is a sense of building up to, and working towards, these final examinations. Unlike in several European countries, younger students in the UK do not have to repeat a year if they fail their end of year exams, but the final assessments that UK students take in ‘non-exam’ years is crucial in habituating them to this established academic cycle. Exams are the point around which the year’s work revolves; teachers frantically try to cover the set topics and to deliver exam technique lessons before the crunch point in early summer, only for this relentless routine to begin again in September.
The constant sense of time running out not only contributes to student and teacher burnout, but also means that teachers are slaves to an exam-based curriculum that allows for no flexibility or variation. With the ever-looming threat of exams, teachers must use their limited lesson time to cover and consolidate the set content. Consequently, they are frequently unable to adapt this curriculum to suit the individual needs of their students, or to respond to current affairs. When the exam syllabus demands that they adhere to predetermined topics, how can they nurture their students’ curiosity for subjects that lie outside the curriculum? How can, for example, a history teacher discuss the recent resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement, or a drama teacher debate how mass virtual performances alters theatre, when to do so would mean that they cannot teach students how best to navigate the exam paper? Indeed, not only must teachers ensure that their students understand the key concepts within the curriculum, but they must teach these ideas according to how they will appear in the final exam paper. The emphasis is not on the concepts themselves, but on how these concepts can be used to meet the idiosyncratic marking criteria. Learning how to write a good essay and learning how to answer a particular question on an exam paper may be two different things, and it is a cause for considerable concern when formulaic exam technique takes unquestioned precedence over developing a student’s writing style. Writing essays as part of my English Literature degree, it is refreshing not to have to force ‘contextual knowledge’ into every paragraph as part of the PEEL essay structure required by the GCSE syllabus.
Of course, this is not to say that assessments are entirely valueless; certainly, it is useful to be able to gauge a student’s understanding of a topic (for teachers and students alike), and the process of revision can itself be an opportunity to reflect on learning. For some students, formal, standardised exams are a good way of structuring learning and can be a useful assessment tool for those who work well under these conditions. However, having a system in which the need to examine pupils dictates learning, rather than the other way round, means that we have lost sight of how to celebrate and encourage learning in and of itself. Although the exam system as it currently stands suits some types of learners, surely having a one-size-fits-all approach is as outdated as it is illogical. The student population is diverse; our assessment system should be flexible enough to allow all to thrive.
Part of the problem undeniably lies in how education is seen as simply a rung in an individual’s career ladder. Too often, students are encouraged to choose subjects that will enable them to study particular courses or enter certain professions and to consider how they can use their studies to secure a job. Such a career-orientated mindset presents education as an obstacle to overcome and fails to recognise learning as an ongoing, unfolding process. Moreover, the close ties between education and perceived economic capacity means that one of the principle purposes of school examinations is to ascribe value to students. GCSE and A-Level grades rank students in terms of academic achievement, but are also used as indicators of economic potential, with the assumption being that those with the highest grades will ultimately earn the most money. Grades are seen to be trustworthy, objective evidence of a student’s innate worth. This partially explains the furore over results in August 2020; this widespread anxiety about grade inflation belies the underlying fear that students had been over-valued, like goods sold at inflated prices. Higher education is, after all, an investment in the economy of the future. The government provides loans for students to gain skills, with the expectation that this financial obligation will later be repaid and the economy enhanced.
Under the pressure of coronavirus, the need to grade students has only exacerbated neglect of learning. Students have faced months of missed lessons, and continue to experience significant disruption as schools grapple with changing restrictions and cases. Meanwhile, teachers have had to dramatically adapt their teaching to allow for any eventuality, from complete distance learning to a fusion of live and virtual classes, as well as managing staff absences and their own health concerns. A particularly worrying impact of coronavirus is the widening of the educational gap between students from different social groups and in different countries in the UK: research from the National Foundation for Educational Research suggests that the learning gap between students from affluent backgrounds compared to those from less affluent areas increased by 46% over the first national lockdown. With 28% of pupils reporting that they do not have access to a computer at home, this disparity is likely to grow as students are forced to self-isolate and stay away from the classroom.
Given this challenging situation, it would seem logical for the government to prioritise catching up on missed learning, as well as providing additional support for staff and students in a period of uncertainty and loss. Instead, debates around education have been dominated by concerns about how best to run exams in summer 2021, specifically whether to use existing exam models or to move to a more teacher-based assessment or coursework approach. Again, what takes precedence is not the students’ learning and their development as young adults, but the need to evaluate their value after completing their courses. Neither of these suggestions addresses questions of how to help students catch up on missed learning, or how to ensure that schools remain places of relative stability, if not normality, especially for younger or more vulnerable students. Moving to a coursework or teacher-assessment approach only places additional strain on schools, who may have to run additional internal examinations whilst balancing student exam absences. Equally problematic is the prospect of insisting that normal exams do go ahead, which leaves teachers with the impossible task of trying to complete the syllabus after months of absence.
It is clear that the way we conceptualise education is deeply flawed, creating a system that undervalues students and their process of learning. The question remains, then, whether there are alternatives, and how we can start to reframe discussions around pedagogy to better appreciate the process of learning itself. Finland’s education system, which uses minimal standardised assessment, perhaps offers a model of how to reframe education around learning rather than exams. When forming their educational policy, the Finnish government identified key areas that would strengthen education, such as raising the status of the teaching profession, equalising educational opportunity and access, and creating a looser national curriculum. Consequently, a series of targeted reforms since 1970 saw a concerted investment in teacher training and development schemes, which made teaching a desirable and respected profession with opportunities for progression. Moreover, a more flexible curriculum was introduced, allowing students to pursue their own interests and manage their own learning. Play and creativity are celebrated as important learning processes, particularly for younger pupils, resulting in a more holistic teaching approach. Most importantly, however, the government decided to move away from a centralised testing system, which many felt disadvantaged certain pupils and barred them from accessing further opportunities. Now, Finnish students only sit one formal exam at the end of high school; in younger years, teachers instead use reports to reflect on their students’ progress, which opens up a discussion between student and teacher. Here, the open-ended reports suggest the possibility of continuing learning beyond the classroom, unlike final exams which signal a definite closure of the learning process.
Of course, we can not simply transfer this educational system from Finland to the UK as this risks ignoring the social and demographic differences between the two countries, such as population size, distribution and diversity. There have been significant educational reforms in England over the last decade, though the direction of travel appears to be away from the model offered by countries such as Finland. Far from reducing the importance attached to standardised testing, policies introduced by Michael Gove between 2010-14 made GCSE and A-Level courses in England more exam-based by eliminating coursework elements. Moreover, these reforms introduced significant changes to the curriculum, such as making maths more complicated at a younger level and structuring science courses around concrete facts. These reforms, which were implemented with little teacher consultation and which exacerbated resentment within the teaching profession, gave teachers less flexibility and encourage rote-learning. Even for students who perform well in exam conditions, the monotony of memorising reams of facts, figures, statistics and quotations often kills any love for their subject, leaving many disengaged.
Nevertheless, it is still worth asking ourselves what a newly reformed system could look like in the UK. Without the pressure of having to cover the whole exam specification, teachers would be able to be more responsive in their teaching, adapting their lessons to suit their class and engaging more with current affairs. Students could have more independence with their learning, dedicating more time to developing skills that genuinely interest them. Such radical reforms would entail a complete shift in educational policy as well as widespread changes to how the economy functions. There are some reforms currently being implemented, though it is too early to say whether Gavin Williamson’s recent announcement that actual grades, rather than predicted ones, will be used when offering university places will indeed be fairer to the disadvantaged pupils he hopes to support. However, as coronavirus forces us to change our ways of life, we should use this opportunity to reflect on whether our systems and institutions are working best for the people they are meant to serve. Ultimately, the question should not be about how to evaluate and grade students in the context of the pandemic, but what do we value in education? Can we find a way to celebrate a love for learning in and of itself, or must education remain subservient to the need to assess students’ worth?
Transitioning. The word carries so much, it should be accompanied by spooky ghost sound effects every time someone dares to utter it. To those who are less acquainted with the term, welcome to the world of black hair! This word might seem to imply a transformation of seismic, life-changing proportions, but it’s actually just the term black women use for the process of allowing their hair to grow out of their head as it is. Except here’s the catch: this is not a simple process – hardly anything to do with black hair is.
When you transition, you stop using the chemical sodium hydroxide to ‘relax’ (codeword for straighten) your hair, allowing your curls to come out once again. Gradually, you end up with a half-puffy, half-straight creature emerging from your head, at which point you have an important decision to make. If you cut all the relaxed ends off, your hair will be pretty short. If you leave them it will look quite strange. Some women opt for shaving it all off for a fresh start. Some women turn to trusted protective styles, such as wearing wigs, weave or braids to shield their hair during the transition period. I’ve previously heard several people of other ethnicities claim that we make such a big deal about our hair, but in the words of Fleabag, hair is everything. Anyway, if they also risked being suspended or even fired for their hair choices, they would probably make a big deal about it too. With a little patience, the time and the effort we spend on our hair are worth it in the end…but it’s still a lot of time and effort (and often money).
My ‘transition’ happened in lockdown. Since the age of 13 I’ve been relaxing my hair, and since the age when my brain began to efficiently store memories I’ve wanted to have long, flowing, essentially European hair. It was all well and good having hair that defied gravity or that didn’t need a hairband to remain in a plait, but none of my dolls, favourite Disney princesses or even female family members had afros. I was tired of entire Sundays being devoted to washing and detangling my hair when I could have been playing Club Penguin, or reading, or watching High School Musical. Most of all, I wanted to look pretty, and in the eyes of ten year old me, the words ‘pretty’ and ‘afro’ existed in two different dimensions.
As I got older, natural hair began to make its presence felt beyond the closed doors of black hair salons. One by one, my aunts began to reveal their new manes. Fellow black girls in school began to don braids instead of fresh perms. Beyoncé released the Lemonade album. Gradually, I came to realise that natural hair too could be beautiful. Lockdown acted as a catalyst for my own transitioning for two reasons. The first was that having to stay at home made me go through a continuous cycle of learning to appreciate the familiar and then beginning to tire of it. In short, I got bored of the sight of myself in the mirror. If I couldn’t change my surroundings, I might as well change myself. The second reason was the fact that I was shielded from the societal pressure of being presentable. I had time to tackle the new terrain that my natural hair laid out for me, to try out new styles and see what worked, and, much more importantly, what did not.
So what’s the verdict? I’m not quite sure yet. Whereas the ten year-old me would not have been able to believe that she could be perceived as beautiful as long as she had her ‘fro, I’m able to see the beauty in my natural hair now. I have Janelle Monae, Viola Davis and Lupita Nyong’o to thank for that. However, I still have my reservations. As I mentioned earlier, natural hair requires time. In the first lockdown, this wasn’t an issue: if anything, sitting in front of a mirror for a couple of hours combing, parting, moisturising and plaiting was a form of free therapy in turbulent times. My hair is not such a therapeutic distraction now that I’m back at university, however. I also tend to feel a sense of dissociation when I look at myself in the mirror because in my brain, my afro is inextricably linked to my younger self. Although I would rather look younger than my age instead of older, the prospect of returning to my pre-pubescent self is quite frightening (I wouldn’t mind getting back the flawless pre-acne skin though).
The most pressing reservation of all, however, is the fact that when I look in the mirror at my newly-transitioned self, I get the sinking feeling that I look good, but I could look better. My ten year old self is still in there somewhere, reminding me that what is on my head still isn’t upheld in wider society as something to be admired in the way that European or Asian hair is, and when it is, it is often regarded as an exotic plaything. I’m reminded of classmates exclaiming “Look, her hair stays up!” whilst prodding it with various classroom paraphernalia, and pushing down the discomfort I told myself I didn’t deserve to feel. I’m reminded of all the times other tourists petted me like a cute dog on holiday, commenting on how soft my hair was and telling their family to join in too, and then beaming with delight at having finally satiated their curiosity – seriously, if my mum had charged them a pound for each petting, we could have paid for an extra holiday each year.
I’ve learnt to appreciate my afro’s beauty but I’m still learning how to love it. There is still the gnawing feeling that, regarding the many levels of beauty, my afro won’t be able to break the glass ceiling (not without a Beyoncé-sized budget anyway). Gradually emerging from and re-entering lockdown has made me realise how much my perception of myself, or more specifically of how beautiful I am, is formed by others, and that this needs to change. It has made me see that despite all the praise I will heap on black women that wear their hair in whichever way they choose – natural, relaxed, under a wig, weaved into braids – my ten year old self is still very much here, and she still sometimes craves the hair I will never naturally have.
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