Sunday 6th July 2025
Blog Page 431

COVID-19 and Sexual Harassment: The Hidden Dangers of the New Normal

0

CW: sexual harassment, domestic abuse

Catcalling, sexual comments, and even public groping are frighteningly regular occurrences when you’re a woman outside. So, I didn’t think much of the unwanted sexual attention I was receiving on my one government-approved walk per day, even blaming it on my re-dyed hair and new shorts until my feminist credentials took over. But then it started happening practically every time I left the house and culminated in an incident of indecent exposure, which I’d never experienced before. After about thirty seconds of research and a few tweets venting about what had been happening to me, I found that I was not alone. According to Plan International UK, one in five women in Britain have experienced street harassment since lockdown started, and over a quarter of women feel more unsafe outside than they did before. For women, COVID has made the outside world increasingly hostile in more ways than one.

Many women have reported feeling far less safe stepping outside since lockdown and social distancing measures were imposed in the UK. A woman who contacted me after relating to my rants on Twitter had previously only experienced catcalling once every three months or so, but over lockdown this increased to three times in the space of two weeks. She found that several men would stare at her in an unpleasant and threatening way or verbally harass her, and on one occasion, a man exposed himself and masturbated in her direction, only stopping when he noticed others were walking down the road towards them. All this, she says, has been incredibly jarring for her. 

One of my friends was recently waiting at a train station when a man deliberately came within 2 meters of her in order to verbally harass her – clearly violating boundaries and risking her health. She finds it frustrating that even during a pandemic, some men are prepared to put their own health and that of others in jeopardy when making unwanted and inappropriate advances. Another of my Twitter followers is 17 and has had similar experiences, being cat-called as often as three times in one week. Upon speaking to male friends about the issue, she thinks the rise in street harassment might be linked to the widespread social isolation lockdown has caused. The lack of other interpersonal connection, she believes, might be leading more men to approach and sexually harass women to prompt a reaction from them. She also thinks that face masks play a significant role. If most of your face is obscured, it’s probably easier to sexually harass women with the added confidence of relative anonymity.

While this trend might initially appear perplexing, the conditions created by lockdown make it far easier for men to sexually harass women without being noticed by others or held accountable for their behaviour. The rise could be attributed to the fact that at the height of lockdown, most people were only outside when taking their daily exercise alone, and it’s far more likely that a man will target a woman walking on her own than with a group. Moreover, many chose to take their exercise later in the day, to avoid encountering too many others at close distance, and it’s again far more likely for a man to go after a woman alone after dark than earlier in the day. Public spaces are now far emptier than they were before, so there are far fewer witnesses around to deter a man from harassing a woman than there would have been pre-pandemic, and there are fewer shops, cafés, or other public inside spaces for women to go to for safety if someone is following or harassing them. Statistically, women are also more likely to be in key worker roles, so spend more time in public-facing positions than men do.

But whatever the explanation behind the rise in street harassment, it’s an extremely disturbing trend, and yet another way in which women are disproportionately affected by lockdown measures. Experiencing unwanted sexual attention can be deeply upsetting or traumatising, yet because sexual harassment and violence services are now all operating remotely, lots of women are deterred from getting the support they may need after being harassed. Street harassment is also more likely to affect women of colour, who are more likely to be at higher risk of complications from the virus, and transgender women, whose rights have recently been endangered by the postponement of the reform of the Gender Recognition Act.

Furthermore, women are already far more likely to be tasked with childcare and home education even if they are working the same hours as their husbands are, and their careers are more likely to be adversely affected by months spent working from home or on furlough. Even more worryingly, domestic violence has risen by approximately 20% since the start of lockdown. This pandemic is changing all of our lives, perhaps irrevocably, but may prove to be a huge setback for women’s rights to equal pay, safety, and refuge from danger. Life for women, both inside and outside the home, has become more difficult at best, and highly dangerous at worst. 

Hooks and Hardbacks: a summer music reading list

0

For the music obsessives among us, the pieces of literature that stick longest in our minds are overwhelming those which take music itself as a subject. Austen’s Emma? Meh. Tolstoy’s War and Peace? Rather not. Jayson Greene’s 2018 Pitchfork review of Yves Tumor’s critically acclaimed third album Safe in the Hands of Love? Abso-bloody-lutely.

And when better for us to get our fix of musical nerdiness and obscure album facts than the summer vac? While everyone else is jetting off to Majorca or out for a game of tennis, you could be sat in your gloomy bedroom reading about the story behind your favourite band’s split-up (“Feel like pure shit just want Sonic Youth back x”)! With this in mind, I’ve picked out a few of the most insightful, poignant, and downright nerdy music books and publications that I’ve been fortunate enough to read in summers past and present, in the (admittedly faint) hope that there are people out there who care for this stuff as much as I do:

The brand of music book which has typically achieved the most commercial success is the (auto)biography. For me, however, this genre is all too often soulless and dusty, with publishers and writers paying little attention to what fans actually care about and reworking great musical stories to fit the same profitable tropes over and over again. Nevertheless, in the last few years I have really enjoyed reading Tracey Thorn’s Bedsit Disco Queen (2013) and Robert Forster’s Grant & I (2016).

In the former, ex-Everything but the Girl frontwoman Thorn details her suburban adolescence and concurrent political awakening, an excellent tableau of the late 70s and early 80s which puts EBTG’s eventual pop stardom in context; more often than not, the author herself seems bemused by her own success, making for an equally comic and affecting read. The latter is the history of Australian indie rock band The Go-Betweens, a group founded on the friendship between Forster and his co-frontman and songwriter Grant McLennan. Following McLennan’s tragic death in 2006, aged just 48, Forster began writing the story of the pair’s relationship, their struggles with the rock-and-roll lifestyle (clue: drugs and alcohol play a prominent part in the book), and the band’s agonising knack of narrowly missing out on mainstream success. As I read Grant & I  last summer, my love for The Go-Betweens blossomed, and they quickly became one of my favourite bands on account of this biography – perhaps the biggest compliment you can give to a music book.

One collection of books which in my experience is more or less guaranteed to initiate a love affair between its reader and a particular band or record is the 33 1/3 series, in which each title is dedicated to a different writer’s favourite album. Two personal standouts from the many 33 1/3 books I’ve read in recent years are Ezra Furman’s ode to Lou Reed’s Transformer (one legendary queer artist writing about another) and the edition dedicated to Dinosaur Jr.’s You’re Living All Over Me, written by St Catz alumnus Nick Attfield – who said Oxford students weren’t cool? My sister is currently reading Jovana Babovic’s Sleater-Kinney title, which she described as “pretty bad-ass” (if that doesn’t sell it to you then nothing will).

But if I had to prescribe a single music-related publication that everyone should buy this summer, it would without a doubt be UK-based hip-hop magazine BRICK. The latest 250-odd-page issue (one of two released each year) features artist interviews with the likes of IAMDDB, Thundercat, and Ezra Collective’s Femi Koleoso alongside works from a team of BAME writers/artists and, perhaps most pertinently, a guide to police abolition. What’s more, 100% of profits from this issue of BRICK (available here for just £12) are being donated to Black Lives Matter initiatives. Donating to an essential cause and bagging yourself one of the most innovative and exciting music magazines available right now seems like a no-brainer.

So, a sizeable selection of specialist reading for all you music lovers to dig into, if you wish. But, as dismissive of classic fiction as I was at the start of this article (soz for that, bookheads), I’d like to end by pointing out that music also has its place in the writing of the literary greats:

One section of my current read, Proust’s Du Coté de Chez Swann (still tempted by a response to Lucas Jones’ recent ‘Classic Letdowns’ article, I can’t lie), revolves almost entirely around a song. Un Amour de Swann (or Swann in Love), which functions as a self-contained novella-length love story, chronicles the relationship between the enigmatic aristocrat Charles Swann and the courtesan Odette de Crécy. Swann’s tumultuous love for Odette becomes synonymous with his admiration of a single phrase from a sonata by the fictional composer Vinteuil; the music acts as a beautiful metaphor for Swann’s alternating adoration and anguish, human desires and pleasures reflected in the swell of the song. This, of course, is the true joy of music, and of literature:

“The little phrase was associated still, in Swann’s mind, with his love for Odette…as soon as it struck his ear, [it] had the power to liberate in him the room that was needed to contain it; the proportions of Swann’s soul were altered; a margin was left for a form of enjoyment which corresponded no more than his love for Odette to any external object, and yet was not, like his enjoyment of that love, purely individual, but assumed for him an objective reality superior to that of other concrete things.” (Translation by C. K. Scott Moncrieff)

Music Reading List Summer 2020:

  1. Tracey Thorn – Bedsit Disco Queen (2013)
  2. Robert Forster – Grant & I (2016)
  3. Ezra Furman – Lou Reed’s Transformer (2018)
  4. Nick Attfield – Dinosaur Jr.’s You’re Living All Over Me (2011)
  5. Jovana Babovic – Sleater-Kinney’s Dig Me Out (2016)
  6. BRICK Magazine (2015-)
  7. Marcel Proust – Un Amour de Swann / Swann in Love (1913)

The Height of Ignorance: Why the Media is Fascinated with the Link Between Covid-19 and Height

0

A new study by data scientists in UK, US and Norway has just suggested that men over 6ft tall are almost twice as likely to get Covid-19 than others, and there’s a lot to unpack here. 

To begin with, and most importantly, this is potentially key evidence that the virus is airborne and spread through aerosols, something that may further our understanding of the virus and lead towards a quicker development of treatment and vaccines. Furthermore, the widespread reaction to this particular study highlights some of the major problems with media-driven responses to Covid-19; every major newspaper has focused on the extent to which height is a predicator for Covid-19, while severely underreporting the study’s other findings that link Covid-19 with activities typical of people of lower socioeconomic status, such as shared kitchen and living spaces. 

However, as a woman who is over 6ft tall, my knee-jerk reaction was not to consider either of these things. Instead, I headed straight into the Tall Girl mind-set that not only is being tall objectively terrible, as proven by the fact that we’re more susceptible to Covid-19, but being tall and female is worse, because female results weren’t even included in the study. So not only are we shafted by the disadvantage of being tall, but as girls, we’re also marginalised within the tall community because ‘so few women’ are over 6ft that there’s no point in studying them. Poor us.

But then I gave myself a metaphorical slap around the face. In times as bizarre and frankly dystopian as these, the audacity of someone just over 6ft complaining about a ‘disadvantage’ is laughable. Anyone who’s seen the 2019 Netflix film ‘Tall Girl’ (or more likely its hundreds of parodies on TikTok) will remember the backlash at the title character whining, ‘You think your life is hard? I’m a high-school junior wearing… men’s Size 13 Nikes. Beat that.’ One TikTok user succinctly replied to this, ‘I’ve got cancer’. In other words, minor inconveniences based on being slightly above average height are not grounds for believing your life is harder than anyone else’s. I’m not saying it’s always a joy to be a tall girl, especially in senior school – standing in the back row of school photos, occasionally being referred to as ‘giraffe’, and (most crushingly) watching my short friends date all the available tall boys were all part of the typical Tall Experience. But everyone has a terrible time for some reason in school, and out of that environment, the biggest height-related issue I face now is worrying the Top-Shop sale will run out of tall jeans. And I’m well aware that in the current circumstances, it would be an insane privilege to put energy into worrying about that. 

Not every tall person has it as easy though. My ‘little’ brother, 6’8 at seventeen years old, faces far more trouble in his daily life thanks to his height – doorways are too low, beds are too short, hardly any clothes are available in his size and so on – and yet at the moment his biggest worry is his future. As one of the Year 13 students confronted with cancelled A Levels and government-decided grades this year, he hasn’t got the luxury of worrying that his feet will be hanging off a single bed in halls; all he cares about is whether he’ll be going to university in the first place. 

Even if he did have time to worry about his height, there’s a good chance he wouldn’t: a wealth of evidence suggests that tall people have had happier childhoods, are more likely to succeed, and end up wealthier than average. Livescience, links greater height to better nutrition in childhood and suggests taller people are more likely to be hired for jobs, while a study from Exeter University in 2016 demonstrated that for men, every 6.3 cm in height added about £1,580 to their annual salary (the Guardian article which reported this adds, characteristically, ‘A smaller effect was seen for women’). This all seems to suggest what many people have suspected for centuries: people (especially men) who are tall, are more fortunate than those who are not.

Therefore, though this Covid-19 study demonstrates there’s a way in which tall people actually do have it rough, the universal tall experience is fairly decent. Beyond this, the fact that reports are downplaying the study’s other findings in favour of a focus on height suggests a more worrying trend. At first, this focus makes complete sense: it gives strong evidence that Covid-19 is an airborne virus, which is pretty ground-breaking. But it’s interesting that the connection between height and Covid-19 fascinates us more than the other links found in this study. Shared kitchens, use of public transport, and lower income levels are also reported in the study to be predicators of Covid-19, but these are relegated to further down the list in most of the articles available. Even in the stupor of a locked-down summer, it doesn’t take much thinking to realise that these other findings are fairly conclusively linked to lower socioeconomic status. 

With a cynical mind-set (the kind that can only come from months stuck at home watching the news with my parents), it could seem as though the sensational appeal of the ‘height link’ exemplifies the media’s boredom with talking about those pesky poor people. It seems reporters have reached their breaking point for pretending to care about the multiple studies showing that BAME people, the elderly, people with underlying conditions and those with lower incomes are disproportionally affected, instead rejoicing that finally, there’s an angle on Covid-19 that isn’t depressingly linked to poverty and disadvantage.  And as previously discussed, tall people statistically fit this profile far less than anyone else. 

The height focus may also imply that tall people (and perhaps by extension people of higher socioeconomic status) are seen as unfairly targeted by the virus, while those who are more disadvantaged somehow deserve it more. There’s definitely a sense that the government and media see other factors as preventable (Just travel by car! Just spend time in your own garden!), despite these solutions’ links to higher incomes. In contrast, height is seen as random, even though it can be anything but. 

It’s a fairly dark reading, but these are fairly dark times. Hopefully it’ll turn out that all this is just quarantine-brain talking, and the truth is people care about all these factors equally. But I won’t hold my breath to find out – even if it does halve the risk of Covid-19 at my height. 

SOURCES

The study: 

https://www.medrxiv.org/content/10.1101/2020.07.13.20152819v1

The Metro: 

The Guardian: 

https://www.theguardian.com/science/2016/mar/08/genetic-study-shows-mens-height-and-womens-weight-drive-earning-power

Live Science: 

https://www.livescience.com/36616-height-cause-of-death-mortality-short-tall.html

The Daily Mail:

https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8568125/Men-6ft-TWICE-likely-infected-Covid-19-study-claims.html

Setting the Scene: When location becomes character

0

I can remember the first time I watched The Revenant in an empty screening at my local cinema. It was during the height of winter, and I remember making the conscious decision to order a hot chocolate rather than the usual strawberry milkshake from the ice-cream counter. A tactical move. I necked that hot chocolate quicker than I’ve ever consumed any alcohol at university. I’m unsure whether it was the briskness of the January weather or the placebo effect of watching a film about the extremes of the natural world, but less than twenty minutes into the first act I vividly recall enveloping myself in my thick puffer, clinging to it with the desperation of yielding the same warmth that Hugh Glass was getting from the animal carcasses he took shelter in.

Alejandro Iñárritu’s nature documentary (thinly veiled as a revenge thriller) was the first time I’d had a physical reaction to a cinematic experience that wasn’t caused by the broken heating or air con in the cinema screens. Watching Leonardo DiCaprio push the limits of human endurance as he refused to die of hypothermia for a second time in his career was remarkably raw, and I felt every rain drop and every crackling ember as man came to terms with his own existentialism.

Following that experience, the physical profundity of a film’s environment has rarely affected me on that level since (and that includes prompting me to invest in the extortionately priced hot chocolates). I have always found that Quentin Tarantino, the auteur who has become a genre in and of himself, has a spectacular ability to make you feel less like a viewer and more like a bystander, lingering in scenes for an unconventional duration as they unfold with a realistic sense of progression. Both the opening sequence and the bar scene in Inglourious Basterds comprise about 35 minutes of the film’s total runtime, and both are masterclasses in gradual tension and release. There is a beautiful claustrophobia to sequences that feel organically played out and not cut short for time constraints. Conversations are given room to breathe and build like real conversations. The Hateful Eight, the first film I grew out my facial hair for in order to feign the appearance of being eighteen at the cinema, spent nigh on three hours confining its characters to the apparent cosiness of Minnie’s Haberdashery, a location which simultaneously balanced hospitable comforts with an intensifying proximity. Devoting time to locations and sequences make them feel lived in , inhabited as opposed to fleetingly visited. With The Hateful Eight ,Tarantino delivered a narrative that didn’t deviate from its central setting, and consequently graced us with a location that was as equally fleshed out as the octet taking refuge inside it.

Time dedicated to exploring a setting not only contributes to the realism of the place but also the familiarity. Seeing the same sets used episode after episode in sitcoms is part of the reason they attain an unrivalled sense of comfort to watch. The overuse of the word ‘wholesome’ throughout Oxford makes me reluctant to use it here, but I think perhaps it is applicable. I never thought I’d have the sudden compulsion to work behind a desk until I watched The Office, or the resentment of college accommodation after living in the shared apartments of The Big Bang Theory and Friends for over 200 episodes. Sitcoms provide environments that become inseparable from the characters, mise en scène that constantly lingers in the background without ever intruding, yet remains essential in our identification of it. For many, locations like Central Perk will be as iconic as the characters themselves, particularly more resonant when scenes are performed in front of a live audience. A relationship is then forged between mediums as stage and screen clash, with location bridging the gap and audiences actively engaging on the periphery.

Perspective is everything. It is a well worn trope that accessing a new film environment (usually a fantastical or futuristic world) works more effectively when you are viewing it through the lens of a character equally unfamiliar with it (think Harry Potter, Luke Skywalker, Frodo Baggins) because the exposition and world building is justified rather than painfully shoehorned. But we are sometimes quick to forget that locations exist first and foremost for the characters, and as soon as a world has to be lectured to us we are made self-aware of our own position as outsiders.

Location and aesthetics can be subtly intimate, designed to reflect the way a character views their world and operates within it. Take Baz Lurhman’s The Great Gatsby, a film which excessively exploits the CGI trend of the early 2010s to create a stylish, but at times artificial, re-imagining of the Roaring Twenties. In hindsight, it was a perfect decision, adding a sense of superficial and materialistic polish to the film, a sense of modernism which seemed incongruous to the era. Bolstered by the fact that Gatsby is in and of himself a dreamer, a man refusing to take the world as it is and using that malleability to transform it into the romanticised paradise he expects it to be, the film’s colourful gloss is almost tragic. It reeks of a man out of his own time, a man suffering in the fantasy of his own reality as the glamour of the city on screen seems tainted with delusion and falsity. We indulge Gatsby’s colourful lifestyle because we can’t see anything to the contrary.

Setting transports and film surpasses the stage for that simple reason. Characters feel more alive because the world they live in feels like a world, whether that be big or small, real or fictional. The tangibility of a setting allows us to accept that the environment we are watching is no less real than the cinema screen we have planted ourselves in. To quote Frank Underwood in the pilot episode of House of Cards, ‘it’s all about location, location, location’. It can make you feel glad to be detached from the world via the screen, or feel agitated by the fact that the screen stops you from accessing it. It makes you feel like ordering a hot chocolate to counteract the frostbite you’ve diagnosed yourself with. But most importantly, it makes you feel.

Image via Flickr

Oxford honours A-level students’ offers after government U-turn

0

The University of Oxford will honour its offer to all applicants whose A-level Centre Assessed Grades meet their conditional offer, although some may have to defer to 2021 entry.

This comes after the government announced that A-level results will be based on teachers’ predictions rather than the Ofqual algorithm, increasing the number of students who meet their offer.

The University’s policy does not apply to courses with externally enforced caps on student numbers such as Medicine.

Oxford said it “welcomes the government’s announcement” and is “delighted” to admit additional students.

Before the government’s announcement, the University had rejected some unsuccessful offer-holders and says that it now has “many more offer-holders meeting their grades than in a normal year”. It has committed to admitting all new offer-holders “either this year or next”.

Oxford has not stated how many more offer-holders will be admitted for 2020 entry. After A-level results day, the University told Cherwell: “We… do not have space to admit any more students while meeting social distancing restrictions and other health and safety challenges presented by the COVID-19 pandemic.”

In January, Oxford made 3,900 offers for an expected 3,287 places. Before the Government announcement on Monday, Oxford confirmed 3,440 students had received offers, including over 300 students who missed their grades under the Ofqual algorithm.

As a result of the larger cohort, Oxford is facing “significant capacity constraints both within our colleges and on our academic courses.”

The University said: “Since results day, Oxford University and our colleges have been working hard to support offer holders from disadvantaged backgrounds who were disproportionately issued grades below their conditional offer. We felt this was an unacceptable situation, having previously shared our deep reservations about the algorithm approach with Ofqual. As part of our admissions process, and after carefully reviewing each applicant, we accepted over 300 students who missed their offers under the Ofqual algorithm…

“We will need to ensure we minimise the risk to the health of our staff and students caused by the COVID-19 pandemic, whilst also protecting the quality and the personalised nature of our teaching. We are now working to ensure everyone who has met their offer conditions under the new CAG policy can be admitted either this year or next. As such, we are reviewing the capacity on our courses and within colleges and will confirm the position to offer holders as soon as we can.

“We warmly congratulate all our successful new students and look forward to welcoming them to Oxford.”

Let’s not pretend that pandemics are a ‘foreign’ problem

0

Make no mistake, it’s not just the bats and pangolins of distant Chinese markets that pose a direct threat to your health. Viruses do not necessarily jump from animal to human only when an exotic creature is introduced, ill-advisedly, to particular anthropomorphic spheres. We’ve been brewing a bug in Britain since modern mass-farming began. And if you’ve echoed Trump in referring to COVID-19 as the ‘Chinese virus’ or the ‘Wuhan virus’, now is the time to examine your motivations.

Rosamund Young’s The Secret Life of Cows (2003) was a more profound and perspective-changing read than I imagined it might have been. Expecting a Doctor-Dolittle-style insight into the bovine world (and that’s partly what it is), Young’s opening statement instead offers a neat summary of the importance of de-barring, de-drugging, and diversifying the diets of local cow populations in order to avoid future catastrophe. Yes, freeing Daisy to the field and refraining from patting her on the head and pumping her with drugs is important in bettering the quality of your steak and lessening the likelihood of lockdown.

Written prior to the Covid-19 pandemic, Young’s analysis of the disease-breeding state of intensive farming, or ‘factory farming’, is oddly far-sighted. Although not explicitly addressing the possible worldwide spread of a virus, Young knows intuitively that intensive farming poses a risk to human, as well as animal, health. Scientists agree that ‘intensive farming techniques increase the likelihood of pathogens becoming a major public health risk’. Clearly, domesticating and containing once-wild animals is a risky business wherever it happens.

We seem desperate to prove that questionable experimentation with bat-blood means that China, specifically, created this storm in a test-tube, rather than acknowledging that the UK might also have caused the next big breakout. Recently, I wrote an article for Cherwell which, in part, explored our strange ability to ignore or belittle the coronavirus crisis while it remained ‘elsewhere’. The present manifestation of this xenophobic denial and belief in British invincibility is seen in the search for conspiracy-style theories which tie the genesis of the virus irrefutably to Chinese practice and never to our own. This is a pattern repeated globally.

Covid-19 has fuelled an outbreak in racism and xenophobia worldwide. In the ‘global coronavirus blame-game’, there is a commitment, against fact, to find that the virus was stewed in a Chinese laboratory and a comparative lack of Google searches to investigate the xenophobic rhetoric used in such statements of the case. The outsourcing of blame for the coronavirus is an example of political scapegoating which relies on prejudice, rather than evidence, to become a shared and accepted narrative.

Donald Trump voiced the rumour, Mike Pompeo backed him up, and Sir Richard Dearlove, former head of MI6, has been a prominent voice in the UK to support the unfounded cause. On the contrary, most scientists agree that the virus is neither man-made, nor man-manipulated.

If Chinese wet-markets, wildlife farming, and styles of governance pose a greater risk of causing a pandemic, it is only a matter of probability rather than a fundamental difference. The certifiable reasons for the spread of coronavirus are universal results of global trends, including an increased number of disease-hosts (animals), a closer proximity to animals, increased travel and trade, and the destruction of individual habitats. If you eat meat, have been on holiday this year, have come into contact with an animal, and have purchased something from abroad, I would argue you’ve played a part in the path towards the current crisis.  

In China and in relation to Covid-19, it is invariably the proximity of livestock and people’s houses, or the condensing of multiple species into one environment that made the transmission to humans ever-more likely. International movement of goods and people allowed for the virus to spread quite so extensively in a relatively short space of time. Nothing more, nothing less.

Myths which connect pandemics to animal-eating habits, to poor communities, and to certain areas of the globe are debunked in this article by the World Health Organisation (WHO). Recent pandemics have ushered from pigs in Northern America (H1N1 in 2003) and from camels in the Arabian Peninsula (MERS in 2012). Future ones might conceivably hail from the British Isles. The UK was simply lucky that the British-bred Mad Cow Disease was less infectious than COVID-19 and the fall-out less bleak, although they still somehow managed to lay the blame unjustly upon Chinese restaurants despite the more probable cause being the feeding of Scapie’s-infected sheep-meat to cows.

Racist rhetoric can blind us from applying information reasonably and critically to our own contexts. Poaching, hunting, eating road-kill, keeping strange pets, packing animals into close-quarters are catalysts which might be seized upon in a comparable fashion to Chinese eating-habits or market-shopping if the UK were the source. Near my home, a field of sheep is surrounded by laminated signs asking people to stay at a distance or risk catching the next disease of animal origin. I have no reason to believe that this is a ploy to keep people off the land, as they always settled on ‘we may bite’ for that purpose before.

Labelling a pandemic, which by definition is global, with a nationality is questionable and unscientific. At the very least, it shows a will to palm off responsibility to distant shores. At the suspected worst, it (unsubtly) constitutes discriminatory rhetoric. The national press is split between creating clickbait headlines declaring that the virus is a Chinese bioweapon and taking issue with such unjust accusations. However, few have thought to posit worldwide culpability and need for reform in our treatment of the ecosystem; the buck is still passed to the Chinese to pay individual penance.

Pandemics have not always given rise to violence and hatred. The Covid-19 Anti-Racism Group is petitioning for a more compassionate and, ultimately, non-racist response to this pandemic. In their words, it’s about time that ‘the media… emphasize solidarity, courage, and mutual support across all communities, rather than feed hostility, division, and racism.’ Why not make this pandemic an international lesson, rather than a chance to condemn a single nation’s practices which are replicated in some form across much of the post-globalisation world? Let’s stop pretending pandemics are a Chinese problem.

Review: The Places I’ve Cried in Public

0

TW: abusive relationship

I first picked up The Places I’ve Cried in Public while browsing the shelves at Waterstones. Immediately noticing the beautiful cover and relatable title, I held it up and called out to my friends: “Hey, look, this sounds like something I could’ve written!”. This was in January, three months after a break-up: three months during which I’d had quite a few crying-in-public moments myself. My friends laughed, and I replaced the book on the shelf, knowing how I struggle to read in term time. Fast forward five months, mid-pandemic and post-finals, and I finally decided to give it a go. I’d just finished another of Holly Bourne’s (It Only Happens in the Movies) and had loved the breezy prose which, while easy to read, also packed some hard-hitting punches and tackled real issues in a sensitive way. So I was looking forward to reading The Places I’ve Cried in Public, but didn’t expect to appreciate it just as much as I did.

While at a quick glance I’d believed the book to be a simple break-up story, on a closer reading of the blurb (and the content warning on the first page), it became clear that this was a story about abuse. The book follows and is narrated by Amelie, a 16-year-old girl who has just been uprooted by her parents from her safe, beloved home and boyfriend Alfie in Sheffield (or the right side of the chimneys, as she calls it) to the South. Despite being shy and underconfident, Amelie is a talented singer-songwriter and shines on stage at the start-of-term talent show in her new school. That night, she is noticed by Reese, the charming lead singer of the band which wins second place.

A whirlwind relationship between them begins, revealed to us in flashbacks by present Amelie. With each chapter of the book, Amelie revisits a place in which her relationship with Reese led her to cry in public, as she tries to understand where it all went wrong. In this way, we get to see the relationship unfolding through the flashbacks spanning from September-January (past tense), as well as seeing the fallout of the break-up in the period from February to the end of the school year (present tense) as Amelie maps these locations.

The flashbacks start to reveal to us that not all was as it seemed in their relationship, and it certainly was not as fairy-tale perfect as Amelie described it at the start. As the book climbs towards its climax, I felt increasingly uncomfortable with the descriptions of Reese’s behaviour as he reveals his true (read: abusive) colours. Normally I rush through young adult novels; the writing style means it can be so easy to whizz through, enjoying the story but not really allowing enough time for the meaning to take root and leave a lasting impact. The Places I’ve Cried in Public was different. Within a few chapters, I’d realised I really wanted to take my time, to allow Amelie’s story to sink in and understand the ways in which present and past tense Amelie were linked.

The book also presents a wider message about crying in public and how this is often ignored by others who may see it, particularly in teenage girls. Bourne turns a potentially embarrassing display of public emotion into a shared experience and questions why it is so common. She also illustrates how vital it can be for someone to stop and take notice of those crying in public with a kind word or genuine concern. So, though this book is classed as young adult literature, it becomes universal and relatable to those of all ages (as good YA often does) and while Amelie’s relationship was nothing like my own (which was perfectly healthy, but just disintegrated as they sometimes do) the book did remind me of some crucial truths about what healthy, and unhealthy, relationships look like. Holly Bourne encapsulates this perfectly and creates a thought-provoking piece of writing which is a new favourite of mine.

Overall, The Places I’ve Cried in Public is an incredible, important, impactful book that should be recommended reading in all schools and universities. As a fierce mental health advocate, feminist, and writer for a youth charity, Holly Bourne writes sensitively yet truthfully about the issues presented in this novel. The book tackles abusive relationships in a way that allows younger (and older) readers to realise the many forms abuse can take. The novel’s tagline is “It looked like love. It felt like love. But this isn’t a love story” – a line that will stay with readers for some time after turning the final pages, a reminder that toxic behaviour and abuse are never love, and to always watch out for those who are crying in public.

Results Day: Private schools see disproportionate grade inflation

0

Research by the social mobility charity upReach shared with Cherwell has begun to reveal the tangible effects of the grading approach used by Ofqual in widening educational inequalities. Subjects almost exclusively studied in independent schools have seen a significant rise in A* and A grades, and A-Levels more common in the state sector saw the greatest interference by the system used to moderate grades – a sign that the slight increase in grades in 2020 was not applied evenly across the education system.

The charity estimates that, based on the vast differences in size between typical independent schools and state Sixth Form colleges, state school students’ grades were 20% more likely to be downgraded than private school students’.

Sixth Form and Further Education colleges were worst affected by the recalculation of grades by the government body due to their generally larger classes and cohorts. Schools with small cohorts for given subjects were partly shielded from the algorithm and Centre Assessed Grades (CAGs), the marks sent to exam boards by teachers, were used more frequently. It remains unclear what effect Monday’s announcement that the government would now use CAGs will have on university options, given that many courses have now had their places filled.

The findings come as the majority of Oxford colleges continue to make statements concerning individual approaches to results day, with first Worcester, then Wadham and St. Edmund Hall, and now New and Jesus Colleges confirming that they would admit every UK offer-holder regardless of their final grades.

Some have questioned whether the current controversy is merely the product of a vocal minority of disappointed students. Grades have seen a moderate increase this year. The percentage of entries awarded an A or A* rose from 25.2% to 27.6% and the number of C or above grades went from 75.5% to 78%. Indeed, in a statement three days before Results Day, the chair of Ofqual, Roger Taylor, wrote that “we have erred on allowing greater leniency” and promised the slight rise in grades seen above.

However, upReach’s research concludes that this increase was primarily absorbed by students at independent schools rather than those in the state sector.

It was subjects such as Latin, Classics and History of Art, predominantly studied at independent schools, which saw the greatest rise in A*s. Over 70% of schools entering students for these A-Levels were private. At the other end of the spectrum, subjects such as Psychology, Sociology and Business Studies, much more common in state schools, saw the smallest rise in grades. In Sociology, the rise in A*s was just 0.1%, compared to an average of 7.7% for classical subjects. Thirty times more students study A-Level Sociology at state Sixth Form or Further Education colleges than at independent schools.

Subjects such as Classics and Latin saw the greatest inflation in grades, with nearly double the A*s in 2020 compared to 2019. Source: FFT Education Datalab
Subjects such as Psychology – most commonly taken in state Sixth Form colleges – saw the smallest inflation in grades with just a 0.1% increase in A*s. Source: FFT Education Datalab

John Craven, Chief Executive of upReach and author of the report, told Cherwell: “Ofqual’s flawed methodology resulted in rampant grade inflation in “private school” subjects such as Classics. By their own definition, Ofqual and the government have thus failed in their attempt at maintaining a “Gold Standard” by capping grades. Popular subjects more commonly studied at Sixth Form colleges saw no grade inflation. This has unfairly destroyed the dreams of thousands of ordinary students.”

Craven called the news that the government would revert back to using CAGs the “least worst option given where we’d got to”. He continued: “This will be welcome news to all those the algorithm disadvantaged. However, it has major implications for the university sector, and it is not yet clear that all will be able to honour their offers given capacity constraints – even if the student numbers cap at each university is indeed lifted.

“And this is not a “perfect” social mobility solution by any means, given that students from lower socio-economic backgrounds are more likely to be “under-predicted” grades – both historically, and – quite dramatically – in the teacher awarded grades put forward by schools in 2020. The risk now is that universities “top up” their student numbers, but the social mix reflects that less-advantaged students were under-predicted by teachers relative to others. And it may risk the viability of some less academically selective universities if students with higher grades now choose a different one with their higher grades.”

On Sunday, Oxford University announced that it was admitting a record number of state school students – 67.8%, up from 62.1% in 2019. Nevertheless, there remains a significant disparity between the make-up of Oxford and the UK, where an estimated 93% of domestic students are educated within the state system.

Image Credit: Chatham House

This article was amended on 17/08/2020 at 4:55 pm to reflect the government’s announcement that it would now use Centre Assessed Grades rather than the Ofqual algorithm.

Oriel announce quarantining students will face £400 food bill

0

Oriel College has told international students who intend to quarantine within the College that they will be charged £400 for food provided by the College.

In an email sent to international students, Oriel wrote that “the College will arrange for 3 meals a day to be delivered to your door during the quarantine period… The cost of catering for this period will be a fixed charge of £400, which will be batelled to you. We will contact you to record your individual dietary requirements closer to the time of your arrival”.

£400 for a fortnight of food averages out to approximately £9.52 for each meal or £28.57 each day. Meals will be delivered to students by staff in accordance with social distancing guidelines, with the College insisting that “our priority is to keep all College residents and staff as safe as possible”.

The email continues by referencing this unexpected cost: “We are aware that the additional accommodation [students in quarantine at Oriel will all be charged for a B grade room “for the purposes of equity”] and meal costs may be an unplanned expense for you, and the College does have some funds available to assist students with unexpected financial difficulties”.

International students who wish to spend their quarantine in College must also all arrive on the 18th September to fulfil the isolation period prior to term commencing. The email states “if you cannot arrive on the date specified above, we regret that the College will be unable to provide you with accommodation for the 14-day quarantine period and you will need to  make alternative arrangements”.

In the email, the College wrote that “Oriel College is committed to ensuring that, even in these unsettling times, you have the best student experience possible”.

Oriel’s JCR International Officer emailed students to call for an International Students’ caucus, writing that “a fee in the excess of 700 pounds for accommodation and catering is both an unexpected and an unacceptable cost to most international students needing to quarantine”.

A spokesperson for Oriel told Cherwell: “The College is doing everything it can to make preparations for the safe arrival of all our students in the autumn in extraordinary circumstances. The figure of £9.52 per meal quoted does not just cover the cost of food, but the cost of 3 food deliveries per day to up to 60 students, which will result in significant additional staffing costs. The amount being charged to students will not return a profit, but will help to subsidise the extra costs the College will incur as a result of quarantine measures that have been put in place for all UK institutions.

“As an educational charity Oriel has incurred additional unforeseen costs related to the pandemic. We understand that some students may not be in a position to cover these costs, and we have made it clear that financial help will be available from the College for students who require it. No student will be forced to quarantine at the College, and they may make their own arrangements if they wish to do so. Our staff are working hard to try and ensure a safe environment in College so that our staff and students are safe and our students can enjoy as normal a term as possible.”

Theroux thick and thin

0

As Louis Theroux releases his newest documentary Life on the Edge, a reflection on his career in television, let’s look back at what has propelled him to become one of the most admired figures in his industry.

Theroux’s career began when he graduated from Oxford University with a first in History and landed a job on Michael Moore’s show TV Nation. From this, he was offered a deal with the BBC to make Louis Theroux’s Weird Weekends, first airing in 1998. Since then, the work of this gangly figure with oversized glasses has become instantly recognisable.

First focusing on lighter, more humorous topics (including documentaries about UFO-believers and swingers) he later moved on to weightier subject matter, talking to transgender children, mothers with postnatal depression, and recovering alcoholics. However, throughout all of his documentaries, Louis’ warm yet inquisitive persona on screen has been a constant.

Louis has said himself that he prefers to remain “invisible”, which is why he has done most of his work in America. This shows in his presenting style. While he has become a much-loved personality himself — posting his cooking fails regularly on his Instagram — his documentaries are very much focused on those he is interviewing. Louis rarely talks about himself in his documentaries and has an understated, quiet presence in the lives of his documentary subjects. With his stereotypically English manners, he is often heard greeting those he meets with a “how do you do?” His image as an ordinary person, unglamorous and slightly awkward, helps the viewer to feel that, while they are new to the subject’s world, so is he.

While Theroux rarely shows emotion in his documentaries, he seems to make a connection with everyone he interviews. He thoroughly immerses himself in the world of the documentary subjects: whether it’s eating with the prisoners at San Quentin prison, going under the knife himself when filming about plastic surgery, or playing cards with Judith — a patient in a secure psychiatric facility. His documentaries, therefore, feel like a series of genuine conversations rather than an outsider studying those he is meeting. We see this in By Reason of Insanity when Louis talks to Jonathan, who killed his father due to his schizophrenia. It seems that the conversation about whether he loved his father has a real impact on Jonathan. He responds that no one has asked him this before and afterwards he is shown sitting silently, seemingly in deep thought. Theroux doesn’t just question those he is filming but seems to become part of their journey in a small way. In Mothers on Edge, he engages in heartfelt conversations with Katherine, who suffers from post-natal depression, trying to reassure her and help her make sense of what she is feeling.

Louis told The Guardian that “we are all guilty of us and them thinking sometimes.” While some of his recent documentaries focus on those for whom we feel an inherent sense of empathy, others are about people who hold extremely hateful views or have done terrible things. Even in these circumstances, it is clear that he strives to show the human in everyone. Even if the viewer leaves the documentary unchanged in their opinion, Louis gives all his interviewees the opportunity to show compassion. When meeting The Most Hated Family in America on the way to protest a soldier’s funeral, he asks Shirley Phelps-Roper to consider that perhaps the man does not deserve his funeral to be picketed. Although his attempt fails, it shows that Louis is keen to give all those he meets a chance to reflect and to perhaps prove prior judgment wrong.

While he wants the viewer to be empathetic, he always ensures that those he meets are challenged. Louis has said that he would not feel comfortable if he did not do so, as he has given them a platform to express their views. Within the first few minutes of Louis Theroux and the Nazis, he asks a member of the White Aryan Resistance if they care about people’s feelings. From watching even a couple of Louis’ documentaries it becomes clear that he will not back down easily. Those questions that most of us would shy away from, even if it is what we want to know most, Louis is unafraid to ask. He presses everyone he meets, always wanting to know more and never settling for a simplistic answer. This determined approach works well. Louis has said this is a “win-win” situation as the honesty can be “unburdening” for many subjects, whilst also giving the viewer the insights they crave.

It will be interesting to see how Louis himself reflects on his career, but there is no doubt that his documentaries, old and new, will continue to be loved by viewers for years to come.