Saturday 7th June 2025
Blog Page 463

“It’s Not a Phase, Mom!” – In Defence of Teenage Clichés

Lily Tidman
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“It’s Not a Phase, Mom!” – In Defence of Teenage Clichés

“I’m not like other girls,” comes the mocking cry from my little sister across the kitchen table – a phrase I’m pretty sure I’ve never actually used, and she knows it. But, in a faded My Chemical Romance t-shirt from c.2014 and garish tie-dye jeans from heaven only knows what source (Hot Topic wys xx), I am a walking, cringing time capsule of my teenage self. Except with essays. And access to a student newspaper.

Anyway – if, like me, you’ve abandoned the majority of your clothes from 2017 onwards in an overpriced student house hundreds of miles away, you’ve probably been scrabbling around your childhood bedroom trying to find things to get you through to the next laundry load. Many of us are now back in our childhood homes and hometowns, often in similar situations to those of our schooldays. For some, this experience will inevitably be more bearable than for others; either way, if you’re currently staring at the same four walls and walking down the same streets as you were five years ago, listening to the same music is the logical (and tempting) next step. Maybe we’re regressing. Get me outta this town.

Seriously, though – lockdown presents the perfect opportunity to engage with the music we used to (and secretly still do) love in a shame-free way. There are bigger issues, sure – especially in the middle of a pandemic – but in a culture dominated by the elusive search for individuality, music enjoyed by teenagers (particularly girls) is frequently belittled and made fun of. Think small-town Smiths fans, emo kids and Beliebers, jibes about pop-punk stereotypes and 1D not making ‘real music’. At the same time, especially now we’re plastered to the Internet 24/7, there can be a pressure to ensure your favourite band is so niche no one else has ever heard of them, or that your Spotify page secures you maximum indie points. Really, what a lot of us need right now is a little musical TLC.

Detached from some of the more performative aspects of everyday music snobbery, in the confines of your bedroom, shower or neighbourhood, now is the time to crack out those cringey, cherished classics. Maybe this isn’t the place to start a debate on separating the art from the artist, but if you’re into it – being back in the provincial towns you jog round and all that – lockdown also allows us to gain a deeper understanding of the environments and emotions which inspired some of our favourite music (location permitting).

Whatever your hometown tastes and findings, now is the perfect time to rediscover old musical paramours (and maybe their new stuff, too – Hayley Williams’ debut solo LP Petals for Armor came out last week) and enjoy what you like, on your terms. That old MP3 player full of JLS’ greatest hits, the oh-so-unique Smiths-Cure playlist you thought was so intellectual back in 2016, The Black Parade seven times a day, whatever. Subject your family to the Twilight soundtrack for the fifteenth time this week. Embrace your inner emo kid – you know you want to. You’re probably cutting your own hair by now anyway. And do it without shame – teens and tweens across the globe find comfort in these artists for a reason, and we should respect that, rather than looking down on people for liking stuff that’s popular.

Nearly two months in, many of us feel like we’re stagnating, as the pause button is pressed on a period of our lives brimming with change and growth. At the same time, by now we’re all familiar with the argument lockdown gives us more time to ‘really appreciate’ media and consume it in its pure, untainted form – whatever that’s supposed to be. However, the way we experience music in our everyday lives is often messy, unscripted and in-the-moment – and this isn’t a bad thing! In fact, it may be this which holds the key to the comfort it can give us right now: providing gateways back to better, brighter times.

Music is often central to our most cherished memories of being *out there* in the world – sing-shouting along to your new favourite album on midnight drives with old friends, throwing shapes to your song with the partner who’s now a grounded plane ride away, that sort of thing. Y’know. The moments which make the slog through our monstrous workloads worth it. When a lot of us are separated from communities and spaces providing us with a sense of identity, security and belonging at Oxford and beyond, the comfort and solidarity music provides in this way can be invaluable.

After all, I’m sure many of us are living an age-old pop punk cliché back in towns we spent our teenage years dreaming of leaving. Oxford was our ticket out, and now it’s been jarringly transplanted into the same childhood bedrooms we once colonised with dreams of bigger things. So stick on that old mix CD, raid your brother’s record collection – even whack on that secret cheese floor playlist from when you were still a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed fresher. Things will get easier, but in the meantime – if music be the food of love, play on, in the way you love best. No one’s watching.

The playlist for all your recurring teenage/early-twenties angst needs: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4YsL6tntGN8CnYU0a53Oiv?si=XEf6SfXkRtyoXeVYo8DJuQ

The Chosen One Turns Chooser: Joe Biden’s Running Mate Dilemma

Spencer Cohen
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The Chosen One Turns Chooser: Joe Biden’s Running Mate Dilemma

In 1961, the charismatic John Fitzgerald Kennedy offered the vice-presidential nod to Senate Majority Leader and career establishment figure, Lyndon Johnson. They had no real personal relationship, and Johnson feared the vice-presidency would be ceremonial: the possibility he would exert less power as Kennedy’s number two than as the Democratic Leader in the Senate was real. Johnson was aware of the job’s limited authority and bad reputation, which was summed up a few years prior by FDR’s long time Vice President John Nance Garner when he likened the office to “a warm bucket of piss.”

But there is one redeeming quality to the job: it leaves you within touching distance of the presidency. So, Johnson got his staff to compile statistics on how many vice presidents have ascended to the presidency. Once they reported back to him with the odds, a female staffer asked him what he made of them.

“I’m a gambling man, darlin’, and this is the only chance I got.”

**

The odds of the next vice presidential pick to ascend to the Oval Office will be even better than Johnson’s were.

Joe Biden, should he win, will be 8 years older than the oldest President ever inaugurated. He hasn’t ruled out running for a single term, and has already stated that he sees himself as a “transition president.”

Joe Biden’s fond memories of his warm and trusting relationship with President Obama, and his insight into what he brought to that ticket, make Joe Biden’s search for a running mate special for him. He has consulted widely with Obama about the search, and hopes to emulate the dynamic they had together.

Whoever he chooses will be thrust as the next de-facto leader of the Democratic Party, and as next-in-line for a shot at the presidency, whether they get elected or not. The vice-presidential nod also has a historic element to it this time: pursuant to Joe Biden’s promise to choose a woman, the nod could potentially be a historic ticket to be the first woman president.

So, with the stakes so high, both personally and politically, and the speculation so frenzy, this is your guide to who, how, and why Joe Biden will choose his running mate.

Will Biden’s choice of running mate influence the election outcome?

No. Decades of political science literature has shown that the fabled ‘home state advantage,’ whereby a vice-presidential candidate can deliver their home state, is largely a myth. They argue that this only works in case the running mate is extremely popular or extremely polarizing. There is also mounting evidence that suggests that voters don’t take the choice of running mates into account: polling records have shown that since 1988, overwhelming majorities of voters have stated that a candidate’s running mate “has no effect” on their vote.

Instead, the vice-presidential pick will play a symbolic role in executing Joe Biden’s campaign strategy: should the campaign focus on winning back white working class Obama-Trump voters from the Rust Belt, or should the campaign seek to turbocharge minority turnout around the country? The identity of the running mate will be crucial in this sense. Choosing Midwestern, centrist politicians like Sen. Amy Klobuchar or Gov. Gretchen Whitmer would signal an attempt at the first strategy; choosing Kamala Harris or Stacey Abrams would signal the latter.

Whoever Joe picks will also have a more delicate role to play, which will be to shield and defend Biden from the sexual assault allegations he is facing from Tara Reade, especially given the Trump campaign and Fox News seem intent on instrumentalizing the allegation. Nevertheless, with 86% of voters declaring themselves to be aware of the allegations in a new poll, Joe Biden’s credibility is in play, and his running mate will have the unenviable job of being his number one public defender. Given the role most of his prospective vice presidents played in opposing Brett Kavanaugh for similar allegations, this will be an awkward and unfortunately crucial balancing act for them.

What is he looking for in a running mate?

Joe Biden has been very public about what he is looking for in a running mate.

He has stated that he wants an experienced candidate, “someone who, the day after they’re picked, is prepared to be president of the United States of America if something happened.” In addition, he is looking for someone with whom he can build a rapport, as he did with President Obama, and he has hinted that it would be easier to do with someone who shares his worldview. He has also promised his running mate would be younger than he is, to honour his promise of “transitioning” power to the next generation of Democrats.

Another consideration Joe Biden will have to take into consideration is the push from some of his closest allies for an African-American vice president. Given the role black voters played in Biden’s primary win, and the institutional support Biden has received from black politicians, key advisors from campaign chair (and former CBC chair) Cedric Richmond, to the second-highest-ranking House Democrat Jim Clyburn, have stated their preferences for a black woman running mate.

So, if the criteria are a younger, experienced, “simpatico,” and ideologically compatible candidate, who is Joe Biden considering?

Who are the main contenders?

Sen. Kamala Harris (D-CA)

There is no doubt that Kamala Harris is currently the favourite for the vice-presidential nod. She fits most of the criteria Biden has set out. As the former attorney general of California, she ran the country’s second-largest Department of Justice, and as a high-profile senator she has gained a reputation as a hard-hitting, and progressive legislator. While her own presidential run was disappointing, it hasn’t harmed her reputation.

Her positive relationship with Joe Biden, who is effusive and admiring at joint fundraising appearances, coupled with the support she has received from Biden allies who favour a black running mate, means that she has consolidated a large portion of support from the Party. Her unbeaten electoral record in California, coupled with some impressive debate performances during her presidential run, have made some Democrats salivate at the prospect of her debating Vice President Pence.

Despite the seemingly limitless upsides of choosing Kamala, there are two points that play against her selection. First, her rocky relationship with the progressive wing of the Party, which has been weary of her record as a prosecutor, doesn’t necessarily strengthen Biden’s ongoing progressive outreach operation. Secondly, her tough attacks on Biden’s busing record in the Democratic Debates seems to have created some wariness in the Biden camp, reportedly including Jill Biden.

Regardless, Kamala is a frontrunner for the job, and would represent a historic and eminently qualified pick.

Sen. Amy Klobuchar (D-MN)

Amy Klobuchar has emerged as a contender for the job when she dropped her own presidential bid before Super Tuesday and endorsed Joe Biden, greatly contributing to his victory over Bernie Sanders. A former prosecutor and long-time senator, she is one of the most effective, experienced, and bipartisan members in the Senate, and has an impressive electoral record in her home state of Minnesota.

Her politics are near-identical to Joe Biden’s, and her admiration for him has always been clear – her loyalty for him has made Jill Biden a supporter of Klobuchar. Her Midwestern centrism and humour would make her appealing to the Obama-Trump voters crucial to victory, and her deal-making history would reinforce the ticket’s ability to capture the votes of disenchanted Republicans.

However, her inability to attract support from black voters during her presidential run stands as a concern. She would also deprive the ticket of ideological diversity, which might weaken turnout among progressives and young people, this remains her biggest weakness as a vice-presidential candidate.

Amy Klobuchar is a well-suited and extremely capable candidate for the job, and would represent a solid and sensible pick.

Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-MA)

The progressive icon has recently began a public lobbying campaign pushing for the job, and new polling has shown she is the most popular choice among Democrats for the job. A fierce senator who has just off a strong presidential campaign of her own, picking her would represent a “party unity” ticket and would signal a governing-first approach to the coronavirus crisis.

Indeed, Warren has been very present during the pandemic, introducing ambitious plans to counter the coronavirus (the first of which she presented in January), in what is arguably a public audition for the job. These unquestionable policy chops seem even more important in the context of the pandemic, and they have gained attention and plaudits from Barack Obama. Her fundraising abilities and strong digital would also help strengthen the Biden campaign, which is weak in these two areas. Crucially, she could unite both the progressive and moderate wings of the party and is an extremely powerful advocate and messenger. Plus, her debating skills would help make her a formidable running mate.

Yet, Warren still faces an uphill battle for the vice-presidential spot. Her willingness to challenge the Obama administration and outspoken progressivism would make for an awkward ticket, given the gulf between her positions and Joe Biden’s. She doesn’t exactly fulfil the “youth” requirement (she is 70 years old), nor does she have any proven ability to attract much minority support.

Elizabeth Warren undoubtedly has the experience and qualifications for the job, and would make an exciting vice-presidential pick, but the circumstances and the requirements Joe Biden has set out seem to make her selection unlikely.

Gov. Gretchen Whitmer (D-MI)

A long-time state legislator and native Michigander, Gretchen Whitmer has been the Governor of Michigan since 2018. A charismatic pragmatist, she has shone during her handling of the coronavirus crisis in one the pandemic’s national epicentres.

Gretchen Whitmer has sky-high approval ratings in a crucial swing state and has made national news for her ability to slow and respond to the coronavirus crisis in a time when the same is not happening at the federal level. She is young, compelling, and Biden-compatible, and it seems like she was made for the moment. Her response to the SOTU was widely praised, and as a campaign co-chair, she has gotten to know Joe Biden through joint-appearances and campaign stops.

Nevertheless, it might be difficult for her to campaign for the job while remaining in charge of Michigan in crisis. While her profile has been raised recently, Whitmer is still a relative newcomer to national politics, and an unknown to most. Moreover, her first year in office was difficult, and marked by a standstill with the Republican-controlled state legislature.

A dark horse, but a compelling candidate, Gretchen Whitmer would shine by her charisma and competence, but seems an unlikely choice this time around.

Stacey Abrams (D-GA)

Stacey Abrams has recently rewritten the playbook on campaigning for vice president, embarking on a remarkably public and candid campaign for the job. A former state house minority leader, Abrams came tantalizingly close to winning the Georgia gubernatorial election in 2018, becoming a sensation and Democratic favourite ever since.

Stacey Abrams is a favourite of the base, and has received support from African-American figures like Al Sharpton who also prefer an African-American running mate. Her charisma and the enthusiasm she fosters among voters that Biden is weaker with (young voters especially) would make her an astute choice.

But the fact remains that Stacey Abrams’ lack of national political experience is a major roadblock to her prospects. While she does run a major voting rights non-profit, it seems unlikely she could be elevated from ex-state legislator to vice-presidential nominee.

Stacey Abrams, despite her lobbying campaign, would be an unlikely pick for Joe Biden: her lack of experience seems to be disqualifying, and despite early enthusiasm for her, she is not the best pick available to Biden.

**

This selection process has been marked by a media frenzy which has unusually been fed by both Joe Biden stoking speculation through his public musings, and the very public jockeying the contenders have been engaging in for the job. While normally a more quiet affair, this process has shown a key trait in Joe Biden: a willingness to elevate new voices and a new generation in the Democratic Party.

The search for a vice president has included several dark-horse candidates who are women of colour (Rep. Val Demings, Sen. Catherine Cortez-Masto, Gov. Michelle Lujan Grisham, Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms, Amb. Susan Rice, Sen. Tammy Duckworth) whose national profile has been elevated by the process. By praising and elevating the voices of a diverse, new class of elected Democrats, Joe Biden is building something critics thought his nomination would prevent: a renewal of the Party. Joe Biden’s collective spirit and commitment to the Party stand in contrast with Barack Obama’s own efforts: arguably, the only Democrat he elevated and sought to install in the Party and national landscape more durably was Hillary Clinton.

The frenzy of speculation will finally come to an end in June when Joe Biden announces his running mate. And his decision might even be more historic than we know: she might even “shatter that highest, hardest glass ceiling” one day.

Oxford City Council marks Mental Health Awareness Week

Imogen Duke
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Oxford City Council marks Mental Health Awareness Week

Oxford City Council is marking Mental Health Awareness Week, Monday 18th to Sunday 24th May, by urging people to consider how kindness can improve our own and others’ mental health. It thanks everyone who has shown kindness and helped those in need in these difficult times.

The Council has partnered with Oxford Health NHS Foundation Trust to promote the Oxfordshire Mental Health helpline, for non-emergency mental health care and advice. It operates 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The helpline gives information about how to get help and access support from professionals.

There is a range of further support available, including practical support to help with the challenges of coronavirus, activities, more specialist advice, and help with mental health. They are also circulating posters and colouring sheets in food parcels.

The Council also supports residents’ mental health through its Activity Hub, which provides online advice on exercise, mental health, learning, and cultural activities.

Councillor Louise Upton, Cabinet Member for Healthy Oxford, Oxford City Council, said: “This week is Mental Health Awareness Week, a time to promote the range of support available. This is particularly relevant now when we have the additional anxieties caused by coronavirus, from isolation, job losses and new pressures on relationships.

“We continue to provide practical support, from food supplies to prescription deliveries. Also, to help people keep active in mind and body, our online Activity Hub has lots of ideas and resources. With some restrictions now lifted, safely getting exercise is so important.

“Given that the theme of this mental health awareness week is kindness, be kind to yourself – we all need to take care of ourselves at this time. Get out and enjoy nature, take a walk, take up a hobby – but also be kind to everybody else. Just a few kind words to somebody can make all the difference to how they’re feeling that day.”

Rob Bale, clinical director for mental health in Oxfordshire at Oxford Health NHS Foundation Trust, said: “When people need mental health care, support or advice they should call the 24/7 Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Mental Health Helpline. Our trained mental health advisers will be able to make sure people get the care that is right for them.”

The helpline number for adults is 01865 904997. For children and young people the number is 01865 904998.

Image: Ellie Wilkins

The Masque of the Red Death: Reading our way out of a crisis

Devanshika Bajpai
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The Masque of the Red Death: Reading our way out of a crisis

Edgar Allan Poe wrote his short story, the Masque of the Red Death, after his wife had been diagnosed with the then-incurable disease, tuberculosis. Some have seen it as a horror story, others as a commentary on feudalism, its metaphors representing everything from government incapacity to xenophobia. It seems like a tale inordinately applicable to current times– a devastating plague to which the only solution is to isolate ourselves, away from the rest of the world.  Rather than reading it – as many have recently done, including the Washington Post and Slate – as an obvious allegory for the ways in which issues of class and privilege are magnified during crises, we need to consider its specific examination of what is essentially the phenomenon of social distancing. 

The story’s Prince Prospero is undeniably callous: while “his dominions were half depopulated” he chooses not to intervene, instead looking after himself and his court first. The ruler and nobility all know about the Red Death – it takes only a half hour to cause a visibly painful demise for its victims, and has “long devastated the land” – but they assume that simply locking themselves away will be enough to save them. If there was no chance of transmission, wouldn’t we all enjoy a huge party with our friends and family right now? In a very literal sense, you might similarly presume none of your loved ones have contracted Covid and invite them to this massive house party – yet the disease could be brought in by them, and stalk through the party just as the Red Death did through the seven masquerade rooms, affecting not only the invitees but the host themselves. This is then a story about the devil you do know, the overwhelming trust one places in those closest to them, when the reality is that disease doesn’t account for character, just as it doesn’t consider money or class. Even though Prospero is doing all this to a large extent for the “knights and dames of his court”, they are the only practical answer as to who allowed the now-personified Red Death to appear inside, and to ultimately kill them all. 

On a deeper level, when Prospero throws his titular, epic masquerade he is significantly de-problematising the realities of the disease outside. His courtiers consequently followed their leader in believing that “the external world could take care of itself”, while they were still safe, safe enough to attend the prince’s celebrations. They were living out the paradox of isolating together because higher authorities either did not give them the relevant information or downplayed it. Think of the doubts regarding the virus for months before it was officially recognised by nationwide or worldwide authorities, or more specific cases – such as the Chinese government preventing further Covid-19 research and editing data from their experience of the disease. The lack of clarity on infection, testing and death figures, evident in governmental policy and media releases all over the world, conditions public responses more than almost any other factor. Who wouldn’t take their government easing lockdown restrictions as a sign that things are rapidly improving, even if a closer study of the data might say otherwise?  Depending on how far the nobles are in touch with the on-ground situations – considering its feudal context, they are likely geographically, as well as socially, disconnected from their social inferiors – the inside of Prospero’s abbey represents a den of ignorance or misinformation. If “security [was] within. Without was the Red Death” then this was obviously a false sense of security, perpetuated by authorities aiming to avoid mass panic, perhaps, and retain the trust of the powerful elite just as leaders in modern democracy are hoping for a re-election. The public’s reaction was then based on inaccurate information, and their actions did not take into account the seriousness of the threat.

James B Reece, in an article for Modern Language Notes, cites Campbell’s Life of Petrarch as a likely historical source for Poe’s account because he reviewed it for Graham’s in 1842. The real-life fourteenth century nobles in Campbell’s work are ascribed a very specific reasoning for their celebrations – “it was the general persuasion that sadness accelerated the infection of the malady… the living, being persuaded that diversions and songs of gaiety could alone preserve them from the pestilence, kept up their revels.” Though this context does not fit in with the usual implications of the Masque, which is seen as the selfish action of an uncaring elite à la ‘let them eat cake’. It almost humanises these partygoers: allowing us to comprehend rather than demonise them as an oppressive group deserving their bloody end. Reading the story as class polemic doesn’t help but understanding even those who are ‘wrong’ in the wider Covid-19 narrative such as protesters in America or your neighbour gathering four friends in her garden, will allow us to navigate this crisis without an added social disaster. Where the crisis threatens to divide and highlight differences between communities and classes– think of minorities being more susceptible to Covid-19 due to their socio-economic circumstances, racism against Asians or growing class antagonism after the coming recession – we must strive for unity, which can only come from a willingness to understand and to compromise.

As for the Masque attendees’ idea that having the medieval equivalent of an invite-only kegger keeps viruses at bay, of course no one today is arguing that a positive attitude and a smile will stop you from contracting Covid-19. Yet every individual has found obstacles during this crisis, whether in adapting to new work environments or being far away from those we love, and we are in danger of being mentally just as much as physically overwhelmed. A Kaiser poll shows that 45% of Americans feel the virus has taken a negative toll on their mental health, and studies predict upto 75,000 ‘deaths of despair’ as a result of the crisis. In these circumstances, the loneliness and stress of social distancing mean that maybe we can learn from the Masque, not just from their mistakes – throwing huge gatherings or refusing to aid others around us – but from their mostly non-malevolent intentions of pursuing happiness in any way possible. 

Cleverly Captured Vulnerability in ‘Normal People’

Maya Little
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Cleverly Captured Vulnerability in ‘Normal People’

When I first read Normal People, it was the unwavering emotional rigour of the prose that got to me. Rooney has this matter-of-fact way of plunging into vulnerability like it’s the undercurrent of our lives. I couldn’t imagine how the oppressive anxieties, the powerfully dissociative moments, the frightening clarity of insight could translate to a TV series. How could you convey Connell’s ‘sense all of a sudden that he could hit [Marianne’s] face, very hard even, and she would just sit there and let him’? How could this be adapted without some crude handling, upsetting the delicate balance of Connell and Marianne’s relationship, which is always a basket of teeming, doubting thoughts frustrated by love and by fear.

But the new adaptation of Normal People manages to keep the emotional vulnerabilities of both its characters constantly in frame without becoming overblown. This owes a large debt to writer Alice Birch’s knack for brittle, understatedly brutal exchanges. After one of their friends suggests a threesome, Marianne confides to Connell that she’d have done it if he wanted to. Connell, with his anxious sensitivity, tells her:

Connell: You shouldn’t do what you don’t what to do
Marianne: No, I didn’t mean that. It’s more that... had you wanted to - I’d have enjoyed you wanting to. I like doing things for you.
Connell: No. You, you can’t do things you don’t want - or that you don’t enjoy - just to make me happy.
Marianne: But I like making you happy.
Connell: Yeah.

It’s at this point in the novel that Connell thinks of hitting Marianne in the face. The show doesn’t verbalise the thought but it creeps in anyway, with a just-too-close shot of Connell’s face as he fidgets, looking uncomfortable and then pained, before very gently rolling Marianne’s head off of his lap and moving away from her. This apparently ordinary moment takes on an elevated, dramatic emotionality, though there is none of the conventional shouting or gesticulating. Rather, Connell’s movement is slow, subdued. Normal People’s strategy for making its characters’ vulnerabilities feel personal and sharply revelatory is to deny its characters the ability to make articulate declarations of their feelings, which can sanitise onscreen vulnerability by putting too fine a point on it. 

Even the camerawork feels vulnerable. Early on in their relationship there are some odd, off-beat pacings. As Marianne leaves for Connell’s house for the first time, she is accompanied by a song which cuts out mid-word. At the end of the same episode, after Marianne admits her feelings of complete submissiveness to Connell, she simply asks ‘can we go back to my house now?’, and they both walk out of shot, leaving a moment of uninspiring, empty scenery as the disorientating final moments of the episode. This recreates the feeling of reading the novel: the very ordinary is constantly made to feel unordinary, unsettling us into attention.

Connell (Paul Mescal) wordlessly studies Marianne, who sits off-screen with her feet dangling in the water.

We see this again after their break up, the camera now having to pass a new distance between them, dragging itself slowly from one to the other as they sit an exam, matching them as they watch each other through a frame of anonymous shoulders. Their lack of surety, their fear-tinged openness to each other in these moments seeps out from them, takes over our perspective, and reminds us that we would probably be able to do no better. In every relationship, to misunderstand each other is devastatingly normal.

Sex too becomes a navigation of vulnerability. The first time Connell and Marianne have sex, secretly, after school, is a six minute scene which is tender, consensual, and strikingly communicative. Undressed from the waist up, Marianne tells Connell she’s sceptical of his interest: ‘there are much prettier girls in school who like you’, she says, taking Connell aback. As they continue, they actively make themselves vulnerable to embarrassment, asking ‘is that ok?’, ‘is that good?’, willing to risk awkwardness, and therefore, avoiding it.

As the sex scenes continue throughout the series, they reveal the couple’s essential disinterest in hiding from each other; again, the way these scenes are shot reflects this. Despite the LA Express calling them ‘some of TV’s steamiest sex scenes’, there is nothing sensationalizing about the way they are shot. The nudity is frank, little use is made of discrete cutaways or tangled sheets. When Connell tells Marianne, as she loses her virginity, that if it hurts ‘it won’t be awkward, you can just say’ he embodies an attitude that extends outwards to the best parts of their relationships: an unselfconscious desire to hear and understand each other.

The worst of their relationship is filled with the exact opposite attitude, an inability to ask for what they want due to a fear of judgement. In an excruciating break-up that neither of them wants, Connell is too proud to be financially reliant on Marianne, and Marianne can’t bear the vulnerability of telling Connell she wants him when she thinks he doesn’t want her. They split, and both spiral downwards, Marianne into an abusive relationship punctuated with the hard flash of her boyfriend’s exploitative camera, and Connell into a depression that sees him lying hollowed out and empty on his bed as his new girlfriend breaks up with him. Most arresting, for me, is Connell’s counselling session, a fumbling attempt to match words to feelings that doesn’t serve as a fix-it moment (afterwards he says he feels only ‘empty’) but which gives him the space to say that things hurt without it being awkward, to apologise for feeling, and to be told he hasn’t got anything to apologise for.

Connell’s sadness, like everything in Sally Rooney’s stories, is elegant, and it does not pretend. Pretending to be invulnerable, Normal People quietly says, gets us so caught up in misunderstanding and worry that we are bound to fail each other completely. These aren’t characters who go on some journey to gain the superpower of empathetic understanding and emotional openness. Vulnerability pulls us apart as much as it brings us together, alternately letting us understand each other and making us close ourselves off from understanding. The series ends with the two about to part again, but this time there is nothing misunderstood between them. ‘I’ll go,’ says Connell. ‘And I’ll stay,’ Marianne agrees, ‘and we’ll be ok.’ At its core, Normal People is about slowly opening up to the risk of each other, and through this, to that of the world.

Letting loose: our relationship to “natural hair”

Kanengo D
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Letting loose: our relationship to “natural hair”

It’s been about three months since the start of what we now know to be a worldwide shutdown. Like many other students, I’ve been forced to settle into a work-life routine at home, and things, whether reassuring or not, have started to feel very normal. A lot of my habits have shifted to accommodate this new life. I no longer wear the clothes that I used to; it seems that the rejected, private, and comfortable part of my wardrobe (i.e. a mishmash of hole-y pyjama bottoms and worn t-shirts), has become what I usually reach for in the morning. I have left a lot of myself alone; I am no longer particularly bothered by the parts of my appearance that I used to regulate. The patch of acne that occasionally pops up on my chin remains untouched, and I don’t care about the leg/armpit/pubic hair that’s grown past the limits of what I would typically sanction. What I can’t seem to leave alone is the hair on my head. It’s big and complicated, its texture is dense. It takes up space, and on most days, I try to put it up and tuck it away. 

Black girls aren’t raised to know their hair. Not deeply, at least. On TV, afros and curls are obscured from the everyday, or worse, objectified and ridiculed into a sort of grotesque costume. Even in Tanzania, where we are an almost entirely Black nation, there remains a cultural apprehension around wearing ‘kinky’ hair. Most of the women I knew growing up would leave their houses with hair carefully packaged under straight wigs. 

Childhood memories surrounding my hair are tainted with physical pain. My mother would spend hours blow-drying it, sticking pomades and gels in it, manipulating it into something that was ‘manageable’. I would cry getting my braids done, fiercely wishing my hair would fall out of my head if it resisted falling flat against my back. It was a sort of coming of age–a symbol of westernised womanhood made attainable to me when I was allowed to chemically straighten my hair at ten. 

Black girls are taught to keep our hair neat, and palatable, but ultimately external from ourselves. Over the years, it evolves and takes on a personage of its own – constantly morphing shapes, lengths, and styles. After I stopped chemically straightening my hair at 15, I was confronted with a stranger when I looked in the mirror. I spent months going through dozens of oils and creams, trying to learn and ‘tame’ a thing that I wasn’t taught to understand. I grew exhausted. For a year, my hair was a bizarre half-straight, half-coily mess before I chopped it all off on a whim, and decided to start again from scratch. 

Lockdown has invited a wave of similar, boredom-induced experimentations. E-girl-inspired bleached bangs, cheek-grazing bob, and the classic bald head are some of my favourites. But there is a lot to be said about the implications of this on hair that society already condemns as experimental, and unusual. 

Self-isolation has changed a lot about our routines and ideas concerning beauty and vanity. Surely, if no one sees your hair, there’s no need to do it in elaborate and performative ways? This presents an obstacle for Black women. A large part of our hair care involves communal, hours-long sessions at the salon, to choose from a variety of braids, weaves, cornrows, twists, etc. as a means of managing our hair on a day-to-day basis. But with the closure of non-essential businesses such as the hairdresser’s, women of colour have chosen to handle their hair care at home. Whether born out of a lack of choice or inspiration, many girls with afro-textured hair are using time under lockdown to transition from their chemically straightened strands to their natural texture. 

This is both scary and liberating. Somewhere along the way, Black hair has unintentionally taken on a political overtone. As Adichie articulates, hair is the ‘perfect metaphor for race’. It signifies how race pervades every aspect of our lives, even the mundane and private. The ones who are ‘brave’ enough to wear it out are first forced to sort through complicated feelings that they may have around conceptions of manageability and belonging. Natural hair, in all its bouncy and shrunken glory, is cast to the shadows of Eurocentric standards that uphold its long, straight counterpart. At-home relaxers promise their users the attractive and nebulous prospect of ‘professionality’ (at the potential risk of scalp burn). They bottle and sell respect. Straight hair grants a sturdy platform to stand on and be listened to; it’s an outward sign of success, desirability, and femininity. As a result, kinky, coily, and ‘nappy’ hair is misunderstood and pushed to the margins. By existing at the intersections of sexism and racism, these ideas are at once appealing and comforting to women of colour. 

I’m self-conscious about this turning into a political, didactic rant – that’s not what I want it to be. Obviously, women should feel empowered to wear their hair as they please. Perhaps at the risk of hedging my own argument, I should say that not every Black woman needs to let her natural hair grow to feel authentically like herself – to feel authentically Black. And I am not blind to the caveats that the ‘natural hair’ and ‘Black is beautiful’ movements impose on women. Loosely-curled hair and lighter skin seem to be placed at the forefront of these movements, at the expense of tightly-coiled hair and dark skin. But I am also aware of the mental break that isolation can afford from the need to adhere to cultural beauty norms. I look on social media, and I’m captivated by the women reshaping and owning the narratives around their hair. Women shouldn’t be hailed as ‘courageous’ or ‘quirky’ for wearing their hair as it grows from their scalp; these are the same sentiments that exotify and alienate people of colour.

In its hiddenness, it’s both enigmatic and fitting to refer to afro-textured hair as natural. Like all things ‘untamable’, it can be restrained, but will always assert its presence. Maybe a lockdown can help to unleash it.

Tradition and transformations: reconnecting through food

Mila Ottevanger
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Tradition and transformations: reconnecting through food

What is your Christmas smell? Mine is cinnamon. At that time of year, it seems to spill off the table and into every bowl and dried fruit it can dust itself over. Inhaling that once seems to bring up a whole host of inter-connected memories, though. The apples for the cake are stewing in cinnamon and sugar, the dried oranges hang over the door in their cages; the coffee is black and steaming, the cherries are soaked in alcohol and melted dark chocolate and the marzipan is gently rolled in cocoa powder – and it’s mine, because nobody else wants it. These tastes and smells on the air carry with them those minute details – the china, the wrought-silver sugar spoons, the cream tablecloth, the buttercup glow of the lightbulb. 

There cannot be anything more evocative than food – or, specifically, the communal act of eating. It combines all those senses we are told are the most sensitive – touch, smell, and, of course, taste – and quickly and irreversibly ties them to a recipe we can easily follow again, unearthing those feelings and memories through the simple act of eating a cake you ate once when you were a child. A bowl of warm banana and custard, painstakingly heated just enough for comfort but not enough to burn the roof of my over-eager mouth, always brings me back to sitting at my grandpa’s left with a cup of similarly-prepared Ovaltine in the early winter evening as he proclaims himself ‘king of the custard.’ Leek and potato soup is my Opa at the stove as my cousins and I sit beneath the overhead lamp, kicking each other under the table as we wait for it to be served in little blue and white bowls through which the light shines when you hold it up.

There are little moments contained in every step of construction. Each of us cousins took turns learning how to make strudel with our Oma, dousing the apple in lemon juice and evenly distributing the sultanas over the translucent pastry. My grannie taught me how to make her famous quiche, pressing down the shortcrust into the glass dish she uses specially for it. The act of preparing food links us to our parents, our grandparents, and their own parents, passing down the broader strokes of the cultures that produce us, yes – but also the tweaks they’ve made; their own signature dishes. More honey and cumin on the carrots; heavy on the lemon juice; a mix of garlic and ginger can’t go wrong. A family favourite brings those memories of holidays and celebrations rushing back to you; you mingle new experiences to the old ones through sharing your own tricks and recipes with your friends.

Right now, we can’t see our families and our friends in the same way as we used to. I was out walking my dog the other day, though, and I saw a woman in gloves passing a tupperware crammed full of cupcakes over the fence to her masked granddaughter. If you don’t live near your loved ones, try cooking up a dish you make with them, or a meal you shared when you were all together. Look for the flavour that will bring them back to you.

Image via Wiki images

Investigation: Towards a Transparently Funded Careers Service

Irene Zhang
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Investigation: Towards a Transparently Funded Careers Service

Nestled in a tranquil lot on Banbury Road, the Careers Service is the University’s main provider of careers and graduate advice to members. In the last five years, 26,194 appointments were made at the Careers Service for individual counselling, in addition to programmes which regularly attract hundreds of participators. Over 1000 internships were arranged in the last academic year, with the Micro-Internship Programme being its most popular.

The Careers Service highlights ‘best-informed career decisions’ as its main aim in its Mission Statement, and all its services are marketed as impartial. Its financial backgrounds and funding sources, however, put this overall principle into question. Over the last 5 years, the Careers Service received close to £11m in funding, 46% of which from the University. Excluding revenue gained directly from the central University itself, Cherwell Freedom of Information request reveals that its second most significant source of revenue comes from stall fees at careers fairs throughout the year; the annual Michaelmas Term Careers Fair in October, for example, goes for £1134 plus VAT per 3.35m stall in the Examination Schools. The steep cost of attending these has a clear impact on less financially secure sectors: separate fairs for Teaching & Education and Arts, Advertising & Media have now been merged with the flagship Careers Fair in October, while Management Consultancy, Law, Finance, and Computing all have individual fairs. Attendance at these fairs also reveal a severe imbalance: while only 76 organizations were on the list of attendees for the most recent non-sector-specific Careers Fair, 94 firms and organizations were present at the 2018 Law Fair and 98 companies attended the 2018 Science, Engineering & Technologies Fair.

There seems to be a significant correlation between this disparity is due to polarized economic growth across different sectors in recent years: for example, jobs for IT Engineers in the UK increased by 33.7% last year alone, while growth in the service sector has been slowing dangerously. However, in rewarding financially lucrative firms with greater prominence, the Careers Service walks a fine ethical line between securing the long-term viability of its programmes and providing truly impartial, student-centred service. Its funding model further tips the balance towards larger, established firms in a few specific sectors through running a VIP scheme for its core sponsors. Organizations can elect to join The Oxford Recruiters’ Group as either an Associate or a Partner, and over the last 5 financial years the Careers Service gained £559,208 in revenue from Recruiters’ Group membership fees.

In return, these organizations are charged significantly less for attending fairs and directly promoted on the Careers Service website, receive discounted advertising in guides and pamphlets, and are given complimentary spaces in newsletters to students. Those who elect to join the scheme as a Partner, additionally, are given a 50% discount on advertising, room rentals, and stall fees, and are featured in weekly student newsletters for free. Nowhere in the Careers Service’s weekly student newsletters is it noted that the organizations being promoted are paying for advertising: the Week 1 Trinity 2020 newsletter, for example, links to software firm TPP’s website as an ‘Oxford Employer Profile’ without specifying that this placement is due to their fee-paying membership of the Recruiters’ Group.

A quick glance at the membership of the Recruiters’ Group demonstrates some obvious issues within this funding model. The 7 current members of the Partner tier are overwhelming software, technology, or finance firms such as Citadel, Barclays, and TPP, and almost half of its Associate-tier members are law firms. On its website the Careers Service states that Recruiters’ Group members ‘work closely’ with them to advise on recruitment; if so, the objectivity of said collaboration puts the Careers Service’s impartiality into question. Is it possible for the Careers Service to serve students with complete transparency and individualization when a significant portion of its funding is tied to VIP memberships that exclusively benefit global firms and stall fees which distinctly penalize smaller organizations and less profitable institutions? Furthermore, there is no qualification or third-party observer overseeing careers advising. 

When contacted for comment, the University defended the Careers Service’s transparency. A spokesperson for the University said, “The University of Oxford Careers Service prides itself in providing impartial careers advice and guidance to students –  enabling them to make informed decisions about their next steps after University.” 

“In line with careers services across the sector, we work with recruitment partners spanning a wide range of industries – including many that promote positive social change. All roles are promoted equally so that students can make fully informed decisions about their futures, with many Oxford graduates going on to work in the education, health & social care, and charity & development sectors.” 

“As well as recruitment activities focused on commercial sectors, we are also proud to host the annual OX-post code, Spin-out and Start-up careers fair. Any organisation can post vacancies on CareerConnent (sic) for free and charities and NGOS pay low or no fees to attend careers fairs. Members of the Recruiter’s Group receive a range of services – which are listed in full on the Careers Service website.”

The University adds that public-sector employers are given a 50% discount on stall fees at Careers Fairs, and that state schools are charged a flat fee of £175 plus VAT. This, however, was not made clear on the Careers Service’s website.

But beyond ethical uncertainties and issues with practice, the image of the labour market painted by the Careers Service’s offerings is simply inaccurate. The Law Society forecasts that Brexit will negatively impact the legal job market: by 2038 employment in the sector ‘could be 20% less than it could otherwise have been’, as thousands of legal positions disappear due to Britain leaving the European Union and progressive automation. The Health & Social Care sector, for example, faces the largest vacancy crisis in the UK with more than 120,000 unfilled positions, the NHS in particular so understaffed that health leaders cite it as a safety risk to patients. However, only 6 out of over 100 recruiters at the most recently Science, Engineering & Technologies Fair were from healthcare-related organizations or companies.

Of course, it would be unfair to lay the blame entirely upon the Careers Service: negative media coverage, unenticing pay, and low satisfaction rates all contribute significantly to the lack of young health workers in the UK. Nevertheless, it is the Careers Service’s responsibility to inform prospective graduates of significant needs and recruitment gaps in the market. For example, one recent piece of research has shown that 67% of small- and medium-sized businesses (SMEs) across the UK are facing significant challenges with recruiting and retaining talent, especially ones situated outside London.

If university careers advisors and programmes continue to prioritize its largest donors and maintain steep fees for attending fairs, it implicitly puts start-ups and smaller businesses most in need of new talent at a significant disadvantage and gives graduates a misguided view of the labour market. The presence of various teacher-training programmes at the Careers Fair last year promises improvement: in 2019 the National Foundation for Educational Research found that the next decade will bring a ‘substantial teacher supply challenge’. Recruitment for physics teaching training, for example, is 50% below the number necessary for maintaining supply. If the Careers Service can continue to secure places for sectors with strong personnel needs, it will be on the right track.

What next for 56 Banbury Road? In exploring its role as a guidance service for a multifaceted, ambitious, and highly sought-after student body, Oxford University’s Careers Service must prioritize social responsibility and true transparency. Cambridge’s Careers Service, for example, runs an annual ‘Work to Change the World’ Careers Fair for non-profit and socially responsible recruiters, with free stalls for charities and social enterprises; with 488 students meeting 66 organizations this year, this approach is clearly popular among its student body. Rather than organizing non-sector-specific Careers Fairs that group all ‘Other’ career pathways together and indirectly punish less obviously lucrative sectors, Cambridge’s Careers Service maintains separate fairs for Comms & Creative careers and Start-Up, and at £100 (plus VAT) per stall these attract significantly more organizations than Oxford’s tenfold charge. The Careers Service must also directly reach out to underrepresented industries and sectors, and consider strategies such as reserving spaces for charities and public sector employers such as the NHS, lowering attendance fees, highlighting sectors facing recruitment shortages, etc. In addition, informing students of the advertising behind weekly newsletters and targeted mail will be crucial for transparency: in intentionally blurring the boundaries between paid promotional material and genuine advice, the Careers Service risks undermining its neutral authority and encountering ethical issues.

Hilary Term 2020 saw Oxford’s first Creative Careers Night, and the rapid filling of RSVP spaces communicates a powerful message. Oxford’s student body is looking outside traditional careers for their next steps outside of college walls, and the organization that claims to help them develop individually must respond to this need. To truly reflect its Mission Statement, the Careers Service must reflect on the impact of its advertising-based financial model, rethink its reliance on fair fees that reward oversaturated industries and undervalue smaller organizations, clearly inform students of their programmes’ funding sources, and base its work on socially responsible principles and accurate data reflecting real needs in the labour market. Its existing commitment to the Martin Principles for Climate-Conscious Investment and policy to not advertise unpaid internships already place it at a progressive position relative to other university Careers Services, and through transparent information, rethinking funding, and prioritizing social responsibility, Oxford can continue to lead change in the careers advising world. The process will obviously be uncomfortable and unsettling, but by putting students and ethical priorities first, transitioning into a model that accurately guides students is the only sustainable way.

Correction (21 May 2020): the previous version of this article incorrectly stated that the Summer Internship Programme was the most popular offering at the Careers Service; in fact, it was the Micro-Internship Programme. Additionally, the University has clarified on fees for public-sector and state-school stalls at Careers Fairs. The Careers Service provided updated figures about its funding, adding data about revenue supplied from the University itself.

Image credit to: Free-Photos/Pixabay

Finding the Sweet Spot: Where Privacy and Public Health Meet

Lucy Miles
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Finding the Sweet Spot: Where Privacy and Public Health Meet

As the pandemic draws on and the availability of a vaccination before the end of the year seems increasingly optimistic, hopes for a return to normality have been pinned on the track and trace strategy. The international consensus is that effective tracing is only feasible with the assistance of technology, prompting governments around the world to focus on developing an application. Nobody has questioned the necessity to give up some degree of privacy for an app, but what is under question is the approach the UK government has taken, and the potential motivation behind it.

The new app, developed by NHSX, the digital unit of the NHS, uses Bluetooth Low Energy signals to log interactions between users, which are anonymised and uploaded to a central server. When a user reports COVID-19 symptoms through the app, the users they have interacted with will be alerted, shifting the painstaking task of a patient recalling their every encounter from human memory to technology.

The fundamental issue with this is that the government has opted for a centralised approach to the app, meaning the anonymised data is uploaded to a server. Creating an online repository of an individual’s movements, interactions, and data poses pertinent privacy concerns. The alternative approach is the decentralised method, in which anonymous data is exchanged directly between users’ phones, rather than being uploaded to a central server. In this model, the data never leaves the user’s phone, rendering it less susceptible to privacy breaches.

It is this decentralised approach that Apple and Google have endorsed. In unprecedented unity, the two companies are collaborating to roll out iOS and Android updates enabling phones to exchange Bluetooth signals in the background, whereas currently the Bluetooth tracking requires the screen to be on. In opting to forgo a solution devised by experts in this technology, there is a high chance that the government’s app will not be able to emit Bluetooth signals in the background. This will make the government’s app ineffective, as it will require the screen to be constantly on, draining the battery and making the phone unusable.

Experts have questioned why the government is unnecessarily pursuing a centralised approach. On 29th April, 177 academics signed an open letter to the government stressing the risk that their app could be used as a form of surveillance. They were particularly concerned that the data could be de-anonymized, revealing the identities of infected users and those who they have been in contact with, which risks exposing confidential medical data to malign actors. The experts condemned any attempt to create a ‘social graph’ of the people an individual has come into contact with, as this could be exploited to ‘spy on a citizen’s real-world activities.’

The UK is becoming increasingly isolated in its decision to proceed with a model that risks breaching data protection laws. Germany has switched to the decentralised model, citing concerns over the efficacy and the lack of public trust in a centralised model. Italy is supporting the Apple and Google initiative, which is more compatible with human rights. Closer to home, the Republic of Ireland has opted for a decentralised model, which the parliamentary Human Rights Committee has stressed may not be interoperable with the system used in Northern Ireland. If the app is expected to help facilitate a return to normal life, failing to accommodate travel across Ireland is a gaping flaw.

The trials already conducted do not bode well for the success of a centralised app. The Norwegian app, with a centralised design that uses both Bluetooth and GPS data, has generated privacy concerns. Perhaps this explains why, as of 28th April, only 20.5% of those over 16 were using it, according to the Norwegian Institute of Public Health. The Singaporean app suffered a similar fate, running into technical issues with Apple restricting background access to Bluetooth, and having a download rate of below 20%.

It seems likely that the UK will follow its European counterparts in pivoting towards a decentralised model. The Financial Times reported on 7th May that NHSX has initiated a £3.8m contract with Zuhlke Engineering to investigate whether it can integrate the Apple and Google API within the existing app. The investigation is currently underway, but for the time being the government remains publicly committed to their centralised approach. The 2016 Cambridge Analytica scandal revealed that manipulation of data is no longer a dystopian fantasy but a real threat that modern-day democracy must contend with.

We now live in a world where individual data is invaluable, whether you are trying to sell a product or win a vote. Data can, and has, been exploited when it falls into the wrong hands. Only a few years on from these revelations, it is unsurprising that data experts have raised the alarm at the capacity of the government’s new app for surveillance and de-anonymisation. It is vital that scrutiny and transparency remains. We must expedite the track and trace capabilities, but not at the cost of our individual privacy.

Artist’s spotlight: in conversation with Charlotte Bunney

Trudy Ross
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Artist’s spotlight: in conversation with Charlotte Bunney

How would you describe your work?

I work in all kinds of media. I would say I have most experience with watercolours and gouache but I love mixed media, pencils, ink and digital art too. I’m hoping to get some more practise with both oil pastels and chalk pastels again soon. In terms of style I am definitely all over the place or, to be a bit kinder to myself, very flexible. Some pieces are more realistic looking and some more illustrative but I think it’s actually very useful to have a range of styles when working on different projects.

Why do you make art?

Aside from it being a nice way to relax or to help process whatever might be on my mind, I’ve always really loved the physicality of a final piece. I love being able to hold something and know that I made it (I am also one of those strange people who gets excited about being able to touch fancy watercolour paper). The biggest joy I get from making art though is when I give pieces away to my friends; I’ll always get carried away, making the envelopes and the wrapping paper from scratch too!

What kind of things have influenced you?

In terms of style, I’m always looking at the work of other artists on Instagram to give me inspiration on techniques, use of colour or even just what I want to paint next. I would say a big influence on the things I naturally tend to paint would be nature as I do come from the Glorious North! I particularly enjoy painting landscapes and birds in gouache and I am also obsessed with the sea. More and more though I can see classical influences peaking through my work and I’ve got some pretty exciting ideas about how I’m going to develop my mixed media series on waves and the sea based on the Odyssey and some Attic pots I’ve been looking at. 

What would you like to do with art in the future?

Actually, I’m planning on launching a little online shop soon! I hope to sell prints, some originals and other physical objects I make, like sketchbooks. In terms of jobs, I would love to end up doing something creative. I graduate next year (hopefully), if anyone wants to hire me…

Do you find it hard to find time to make art as a student?

Yes. I’m currently doing 2 essays a week and elementary Greek so I’m very busy but for me it’s important to do something creative at least once a week. Sometimes when I’m pressed for time I’ll just do some cut and stick poetry or sketch something quickly, but I do really value the process of sitting down with a cup of coffee and Netflix and just painting for a good few hours.

What advice would you give to other artists looking to do something similar to you?

Honestly just keep practising if you enjoy it. Mistakes are going to happen (something that took a little while to accept) but the skills will come! If you’re comfortable doing it, I enjoy posting my work on Instagram and getting some feedback to keep me encouraged. 

Follow Charlotte on Instagram @artssoliloquies

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