Walking together
I thought how I’d never
Forget you
(As friends do at night)
I wondered if you’d
Forget me
I imagined you might
Earlier I’d waited for you
Inevitably late
Glancing around
I don’t want you to surprise me
But you do
Friendly remark
On the tip of my tongue
Gone
All undone
Because I’ll miss you became
The I love you for friends
But please
Don’t say you’ll miss me again
Image Credit: Georgia Watkins
I was struggling with where to start this. The start seems a tad too conventional for something that is anything but conventional, so we are Tarantino styling this and going from then jumping back and then forwards again.
For anyone who knows me the previous academic year was a weird one and not exactly the easiest but also probably my best yet and I would personally argue the most informative and important year of my life. Without being cliche I learned more about myself in the past year than I had in any of my time at school.
That’s for one simple fact, I started my year at my version of rock bottom (when on a phone assessment for CBT I said life didn’t seem to have any meaning for me anymore and I was referred to high-intensity one to one CBT). I’ll always be grateful for the position I am in that my rock bottom was still living comfortably with family but mentally I was in a really bad place. In September of 2018, I had been told I was being kicked out of university for failing my first-year exams. First-year of university had not been easy and I can safely say my anxiety had never been worse than before my set of exams and over the summer before the subsequent resits. Yet despite all of this I didn’t speak out, I got up every day, put effort into how I looked and tried to be as smiley and friendly and “lit” as possible all in a vain attempt to make other people think I was coping. I somehow thought that if others thought I was doing well or there appeared to be someone struggling more openly than I was that I would be ok and I had nothing to worry about. This is something I’ve done for most of my life, and not something I’m proud of, to find someone who’s doing “worse” than me and take solace in the fact that, at least at face value, I’m not the biggest fuck up out there. Of course, neither of those things are true, someone else’s problems don’t minimise your own and more importantly, I should be as open as other people about how difficult life is. It does, however, extend to avoiding busy places (something I have thankfully been forceful and stopped myself doing), regularly thinking everyone (including close mates) hate me and that my accent is grating on everyone’s ears.
If you’ve seen me around college or Oxford recently and stopped to ask me how I’m doing there’s a chance I’ve told you I’m not doing well. That’s not to say term is going badly or my mental health is deteriorating I’ve just taken to not putting up a facade anymore. If I am having a bad day I am going to tell you and have no shame about it.
I won’t bore you all with the details of how anxiety affects me in everyday life, partly because I am aware just how trivial most of it is when written down, just like many things in life a bullet point list will never get across the experience of what life is like with it.
I started suffering with anxiety around year 11 and my GCSE exams, I remember shaking with nerves (something I’d never done before) outside my English exam. I didn’t finish that exam but ignored what had happened as I still did ok. I now fully believe I have never had a really good experience with exams since that day, be it thoughts that I’ll fail to never fully achieving what I felt I could there has always been something off about exams since that day. It’s not just academically that anxiety affects me, I felt my mind cloud from anxious thoughts in my black belt karate grading (which I subsequently failed) and if you ask me to approach someone new on my own you’ll be met with a laugh and some choice words if you keep pushing.
Growing up both gay and with undiagnosed dyspraxia I was unfortunately prone to developing mental health problems trying to navigate a world that isn’t always the friendliest place. Not feeling like a proper man because I used to play with my sister’s barbie dolls and couldn’t kick or catch a ball if my life depended on it is still something that quietly affects me to this day. But as you get older you do realize that is a problem with how masculinity is defined and not a problem with one’s self.
It was this desire to be seen as a proper man that stopped me from speaking out earlier not wanting to be seen as weak and “attention-seeking” something I now realize was my own prejudices against mental health which rather ironically caused me a lot of harm. This past year I have realized it’s not bad to complain and vent and open up to lots of people, the more people who know you the more people you have to turn to.
I am by no means at the end of my journey being as I only truly started it 6 months back when I started receiving CBT on the NHS (now discharged which is a strange feeling) and I am certainly not, or probably ever, living anxiety free. But I certainly much happier now than during my first year at uni and that’s all that matters. I still put too much effort into how I look on my bad days and the rule about me not approaching people I don’t know at mixers most definitely still stands. This is by no means a full life recount and anything left out has been done so for a reason (I’m probably not comfortable talking about it here). There is to many people to thank for making the past year so good from what should have been nothing (shoutout to the big sis though who has done more than she probably realizes) and I’ll leave this with the small fact that opening up and standing up for myself got me back to uni and if that’s not reason enough to seek help for your own worries and stresses I don’t know what is.
Wondering is the wandering of the mind, as Wandering is the wondering of the body. And so it is very fitting that Wandering is simply Wondering with an extra leg given to its second letter.
Walser died in the same style in which he wrote: he went on a lonely walk and never came back. His body was found lying in a field of snow.
His writing appears aimless – and, in fact, is – for he often goes on a tangent, and keeps straying further away from the point until he eventually ends the story, elegantly, after losing the plot entirely. It is worth noting, however, that he never strays entirely away from his original point – he becomes very close to doing so, yes, but never quite does so. Reading his stories, one feels as though one has somehow, unknowingly, been placed on a swing, swung back and forth until, suddenly again, one finds oneself quite far from Earth. Floating along in the abyss, amongst the moons and stardust, one orbit later we are more or less grounded, and find ourselves at the end of the chapter. We do occasionally find guidance in the novel, something like an usher with a voice resembling that of Walser, but with deliberate differences that blend it into the fiction of the story: this voice tells us not to worry, there is no need to be scared, and oh how he is ever so sorry for the narrator’s bursts of passion that quite carries him away at times. But he always writes with such self-conviction that one is often under the impression that he had not meant, perhaps, to have a reader at all, but had always written for himself — to himself — in a genial one-way conversation. It is rather like peeping into the most minute of pinholes, through which we gain a glimpse of a phantasmagoria of eccentricity, bursting to escape the confines of the pages.
To read Walser, one must be in just the right mood, and one must, naturally, be patient. The mood to accept the directionless path one follows in his stories, and the patience to wait for a meaning to become clear. It is rather like the process of inserting the thread into the needle before sewing; it is precise, requiring much patience, and a useful skill in life. One must not become anxious when the thread seems not to enter the tiny hole, but instead must find a way to make it thinner, sharpen it, steady one’s hand, and then try again. Eventually, the thread enters, to one’s greatest satisfaction, and the needlework can then recommence. Later on, the thread might be lost again, may unthread itself, but all one needs to do is simply persist, rethread, and carry on; in the end, all will be well. This is the way to read the works of Walser. Patience, that is all, and one will be rewarded with the beauty of the art.
Image Credit: Isabella Lill
We don’t talk you and me
And it’s striking
Really
How your words no longer
Light up my phone
The lover bubble we burst through
Now we go it alone
While couples walk in worlds I’m not part of
And I feign understanding
As they talk about love
And I look on my life all thin and uneven
With metaphors trying
When no one believes them
Redrafting a life with no object for feeling
Relaying the foundations of my self esteem and
Refusing to act out the same old scenes
Because I left all that in 2019
Image Credit: Francesca Nava
This week, I’ve been thinking about Karen. My interest was piqued when the Financial Times’ weekend supplement featured a piece about ‘Karen the pushy mom’, following a flood of Karen jokes on the popular video app ‘TikTok’. According to the author of the column, ‘what really marks out a Karen… is their capacity to complain and get their own way’. A Vox article from earlier this year takes the definition a little further, characterising Karen as ‘blonde, has multiple young kids, and is usually an anti-vaxxer. Karen has a “can I speak to the manager” haircut and a controlling, ‘superior attitude to go along with it’. The joke itself is perhaps best represented by a viral TikTok which depicts a mother at a fast food drive-thru who seemingly throws a tantrum when she doesn’t get her way – this is classic Karen behaviour.
Interestingly, the Karen meme has been floating around for quite a while. In June of 2019, Guardian columnist Grace Dent wrote about the Karen in all of us, ‘fostered by the I-Want-It-Now-Culture’. Back then, the trope was not so overtly racialised. – Karen was certainly a white suburban mom but use of the meme didn’t result in the kind of heated arguments witnessed online recently, with some white women branding the term a ‘slur’. The argument kicked off when journalist Julie Bindel took to Twitter earlier this week to ask ‘Does anyone else think the ‘Karen’ slur is woman hating and based on class prejudice?’. Soon after, the Editor of the conservative ‘Feminist Current’ published a piece in which she concluded ‘Of course “Karen” is a sex-based meme, and of course it exists to mock and dismiss women’. Other media outlets have also picked up on the debate, and as with all online arguments, Karen began trending on Twitter.
Those who deal with Karens generally work at what we are currently terming the ‘frontline’. Working-class service sector workers, particularly those in supermarkets, are often confronted with angry customers who are upset with a product or an in-store experience. On the most basic level, the Karen meme is about person to person interaction, and the racial and class-based structures that manifest in our everyday lives. White and middle-class, Karen is comfortable throwing her weight around in the store because she feels entitled in a space where she exists to be served. Crucially, she is not aware of the way in which she enacts the privileges afforded to her. This is where the joke often lies.
Of course, many of us fail to pause before each social interaction and pick apart the structural layers that form our identity. But Karens wield their privilege in a nasty manner, getting away with yelling at shop-floor workers and drive-thru employees, and then producing crocodile tears if held accountable for their actions. In a country such as America, where African-American women are twice as likely to be incarcerated as white women, it would make sense that the latter group feel more comfortable acting aggressively in public spaces.
When it comes to using privilege, the history of white womanhood (particularly within feminist movements) is riddled with contradiction. At times, white middle-class women have been powerful allies in anti-racist and anti-colonial movements. Catherine Impey was an English Quaker in the late 19th century who campaigned on an anti-racist platform. She launched the magazine ‘Anti-Caste’ in 1888. Anti-colonial activists include Ellen Wilkinson, a white British MP in the early 20th century who campaigned for self-rule in the Commonwealth.
At other times, however, white feminists have stepped on the backs of members of the working-class, and those in an ethnic minority (particularly Black Americans), in order to secure their own rights. In America, the early campaign for women’s suffrage openly allied itself with white supremacist sentiment, with many prominent suffragists such as Elizabeth Cady Stanton arguing that it would be preposterous for Black men to be given the right to vote before white women had it. In Britain, white middle-class women such as Violet Markham strategically supported social imperialism, advocating for eugenics-based policies and lauding social Darwinism, and boosted their own public profiles as a result.
These snippets of history may feel irrelevant to a 21st century meme, but collective memory is a powerful thing, and the social context to Internet discourse should not go ignored. Some of the most hard-hitting Karen tweets are those that reference historical or present-day injustice. One Twitter user responded to Julie Bindel saying ‘“Karen” was a term created *specifically by Black women* to talk about white women’s interpersonal + state violence against us and our communities: calling the police on us for getting coffee, threatening to have us fired, talking down to us at work (where we’re now ‘essential’)’. Another user suggested that the young white women yelling abuse at Black students when public high schools were integrated in Montgomery in 1963 were historical ‘Karens’.
Crucially then, Karen does not represent all white women, and though the meme feels reductive and may present offensively, it is a symbol more than it is anything else. Feminist movements in the West have been splintered along race lines from their inception, and people of colour are right to point to the ways in which white womanhood can be weaponised within the current system. And though it seems that every other thought-piece these days is about the way in which coronavirus has laid structural inequality bare, it is clear that this theme of unfairness is on people’s minds. Perhaps it is only natural that our memes feel more political than usual; the scaffolding our society rests on has been exposed as unbalanced, with the Karens of the world getting their way where others cannot (and often, because others cannot). No joke exists in a vacuum, and the memes and TikToks trending currently are capsules of the societal mood during this crisis – it would be wise to treat them as such.
All throughout the world, health professionals are facing some of the most disheartening scenes of our times. Their efforts are valiant, there’s no denying that. These men and women are on the front line of a conflict that has no precedent. They charge into battle each and every day. Some may be critical of the use of bellicose rhetoric, of this language of war. I will, however, be a contrarian. It is a necessity to adopt such an approach. This is, indeed, a war. We have seen a soul-crushing number of casualties, each and every single one of them a tragedy. However, fortunately, the vast majority of us have merely been passive witnesses to this calamity.
Healthcare providers have not been vested with such good fortunes. They have not only been real, active witnesses to this great human tragedy, but as well, they have found themselves playing the part of the Moirai. The Moirai, the Sisters of Fate to the Greeks in antiquity, controlled the thread of life from every mortal being from birth to death. When looking at the heart-wrenching stories that have come out from severely hit nations, such as Italy and Spain, where doctors and nurses have been forced into the horrible task of defining which patients get to live or die, such a comparison becomes palpably clear.
One thing needs to be made explicit: the fact that these men and women are being forced into such scenarios is beyond dreadful. As stated previously, they are already being forced to deal with the horrors which we’re fortunate enough to learn from through our televisions and phones. I understand that the dire nature of the circumstances is forcing such draconian pragmatism to become the order the day; I will not abdicate rationality for the sake of blind idealism. However, what I will do is make a case against this becoming a norm, for one cannot assign such value to one life over the other.
To do so would be to negate the potential of every single human life, regardless of caveats and descriptives. Thanks to equality of opportunity, one of the hallmarks of modern life throughout the global north, this has never been more pertinent. Every single individual, regardless of their background, age or identity is nowadays capable of attaining their full potential in life. Opportunities and ambitions are plentiful, and to seize them has never in human history been more possible. To artificially and arbitrarily define that some lives are in any way whatsoever more valuable than others, and then to act on these judgements, is a violation of this principle. Such a violation should never, under any circumstances, become ordinary and mundane.
However, and perhaps of far greater importance, to allow for these measures to become commonplace would be to allow for us all to be led astray from the path towards something we should as a society aim for now more than ever; sonder. To acknowledge that every single stranger we pass by as we make our way through a street has a deep, complex reality much like our own, something we cannot even begin to contemplate. Every single person enjoys a completely unique conscious experience. They have things that provide them with joy, they love and are loved. Every individual alive at this moment in time, or any other moment indeed, is or has been an entire cosmos we are not able to fathom. To pretend then that we can arbitrarily assign disparate values to individuals is folly.
I wholeheartedly understand the case for the measures being adopted by doctors and nurses throughout Europe in these challenging times. We should not be blinded by idealism amidst the crisis our world now faces. Our reality is what it is, and if such actions are necessary for the greater good, that of saving as many lives as it is possible, then we should indeed adopt them. However, let us not allow for them to erode our character. We ought to understand that these awful measures may just so happen to be the medicine needed to fight this plague, or to at least ensure that its toll is not as cruel as it could be. At the same time, though, let us not forget that to assign value to human life in such an arbitrary manner should not become a normalized aspect of life once we have won this war, whenever that may be.
The great cosmos that is every single living individual is invaluable. Let us not be ignorant to that, regardless of the violent and brutal tidings of circumstance. With our character untarnished, accepting that conscious experience is beyond the realm of value, we will see through these times of plague and dread. We will, together, weather out this storm.
For Thomas, there was an indescribable fascination with the movement of the pen on paper. The familiar pressure as the nib traced his name, over and over, claiming the blank spaces as his own. He was getting distracted again, digressing from the tedious task at hand. Yet the harsh lines of the pixelated computer screen stung his eyes – tempting abstinence. He liked the irony of his abstinence from work, this active defiance, it made him feel as though, in his procrastination, he had turned off from the highway momentarily, to watch languidly as his colleagues passed him by.
He sifted absently through his emails. The words blurred into one another on the screen, drifting momentarily, leaving no impression upon his brain. As if in imitation, outside the office, the rain ran in eddying streams down the window. It reminded him of that day, years ago, when he and his sister had been caught in a thunderstorm on the slopes of Skiddaw. He was grateful for the office then, enclosed within the white sterility of the walls, shielded from the elements. Yet… that insistent tentative yet. There was something exhilarating about the thunderstorm; as they crouched, pressing themselves against the rocks, the deluge surged around them, cold water biting naked skin. As the lightening ripped, a jagged glare, across the sky, he felt that rare numb panic – that complete vulnerability. He remembered that moment when he turned towards her, face streaming with water, eyes brimming with tears that weren’t his own. He could see her shouting, but no words reached him. In this moment of lost communication, unable to move for fear of being caught by lightening, there seemed a sudden hilarity in it all. He was laughing then, standing up, reaching up to the sky in reckless abandonment.
Absorbed now, in the window, he watched as a group of boys jostled against one another on the pavement. Their faces were indistinguishable from distance, yet he could vaguely hear their voices, washing over one another in an attempt to be heard. He revelled for a moment, in their ignorance that he was observing them. He wondered ironically if, when one of the boys glanced at the window, he too was centralising him in an unspoken narrative. Their anonymity inspired his curiosity. The cans of beer that they were swigging gave it away, he thought, they were probably on their way home from a game. He could remember distinctly the warm sensation of the alcohol; the drifting of long hazy summer nights into a contented oblivion. Hands outstretched, hesitantly reaching towards the heat of the fire. He glanced across at his friends faces, candidly caught in the amber glow. Their laughter ricocheted back to him and he was awash again in the unaffected naivety of youth. When the path stretched as far as the eye could see, dipped in the rosy hue of the sunset. No longer able to distinguish their features, his vision was blurred by the tides of time. As the light faded outside the window, replaced by the encroaching darkness, he avowed to make changes to his life tomorrow. To step outside, to reconnect. Yes, it would happen tomorrow!
Yet, half-heartedly he recognised the emptiness of a promise that would never be fulfilled. Fated to be caught perpetually behind the window, always waiting for that elusive tomorrow.
Image Credit: Justin Lim
Tell us about yourself: where you’re from, what subject you’re doing, and how you got into rugby?
I’m Jasper, a second year physicist at Oriel, and I live in Cambridge. I first played rugby in Sydney where I grew up and continued it in Tokyo, where I spent four years. Since then, I have been playing in and around Cambridge, and now at Oxford!
As a rugby blue, how many hours do you devote to training or competitions each week? Does it get into the way of academic work?
Rugby has the unique quirk of having its Varsity Match in December which means the vast majority of our performance-focussed training happens in Michaelmas with an extensive pre-season before hand. At the peak of the season we are probably training 3-4 times a week with 2-3 gym sessions and a game on a Friday night. This does consume a lot of time which invariably means sacrifices in work or social life but after Varsity training is scaled down appropriately so the work can be made up with a bit of commitment.
How does rugby compare to other blues sports, from your experience?
I have pretty limited experience with other Blues sports but from what I have seen there is an almost universal shared dedication to their respective sports. Relative to the other sports, our season is very short, and so I think we have a reputation for the intensity of our pre-season and Michaelmas training.
What do you think of ‘lad culture’ in Oxford? How should the problems with this be tackled?
Obviously, I can only speak from my experiences with Oxford and Oriel but I would say that the ‘lad culture’ here is pretty minimal. We (at OURFC) have no initiations and socials are, for the most part, events where the team can buy in as much or as little as they like. We try to encourage attendance as we feel that it is an important part of team-building but Oxford is an intense environment with many conflicting time-pressures so we appreciate that players may have other commitments.
At OURFC, the men and women’s teams are fully integrated, and share a positive relationship in all aspects of running the club. With respect to behaviour, I am pleased to say that I have never experienced anything that I would consider offensive to myself or others during my time here, and I am confident in saying that I believe we foster an environment where such behaviour would not be tolerated.
The annual varsity match at Twickenham is surely one of the highlights of rugby at Oxford. How was your experience playing at such a prestigious venue, in front of a crowd of 22,000?
I have been lucky enough to play three times at Twickenham and have experienced three very different environments. In my first year we played an outstanding game and won a resounding victory, which remains the proudest moment of my time at Oxford. The feeling of shared accomplishment with 23 of my best mates will be very hard to beat. This year we lost which was, as you can imagine, another experience all together, but it highlighted to me the importance of perspective in sport. We didn’t win the game but that did not diminish the team’s achievements throughout the season.
This year, the match was played in suboptimal conditions and Oxford lost both the men’s and women’s matches. What positives do you think the team can take away from the match?
We learnt a lot that day about executing a plan and adapting to our environment. We had developed a highly attacking game-plan that suited our team well, but we weren’t able to move away from this when it really mattered. It is an important part of leadership to recognise the changing landscape and devise a way to overcome the obstacles and I think this was a lesson we all learnt that day. Despite this, we spoke all year of seeing changes as opportunities and not looking for excuses when things didn’t go our way and I think it was a real strength of our team that we persevered with our attempts to attack and play the way we knew best.
Many British university rugby teams never get to play at Twickenham, unless they reach the final of the BUCS Super Rugby Championship, a tournament which Oxford and Cambridge blues don’t even compete in. Do Oxbridge teams deserve this privilege? Does it perpetuate a perception of exclusivity surrounding Oxbridge, and is this part of an access issue?
I think that we are indeed very privileged to play at the historical home of rugby, but this is justified by both rugby clubs’ status as historic powerhouses in driving participation and the development of the game. Up until the professionalisation of rugby in 1995, the annual Varsity Match was, in a lot of ways, a trial game for the England team with games being played in front of capacity crowds of 60,000, matching and in some cases exceeding crowds for international matches. OURFC is 150 years old and has 340 ex-international players, including 41 British and Irish Lions. I certainly think that matches of this standard deserve to be played at the most prestigious ground in the country.
In modern times, the professionalism of the game has increased the competition for crowds’ attendance and now we only draw around 22,000-25,000 but recently the Varsity Match company has been pushing free tickets for local school children who would not otherwise be able to attend a rugby match at Twickenham. In this way the Varsity Match not only gives young children an opportunity to get into rugby, but it also gives them a very real connection to both universities. We have players now who first decided they wanted to come to Oxford from watching the Varsity Match on TV or in person and so I think if anything, the game improves the visibility and accessibility of the university.
The coronavirus pandemic has disrupted much in the world of sport. How much of your sporting life has changed? In general, how has university sport been affected?
Well as we’re all aware, the movement of Trinity term learning online means that the vast majority of sports won’t be able to organise team sessions or competitions. We have had to cancel the men’s tour to Croatia, as well as the women’s tour to France and as well as this we had scheduled historic fixtures for the men against the Barbarians and for the women against the Penguins which have been postponed. We have also lost the semi-finals and finals for the cuppers competitions which we are currently working with colleges to reschedule.
Although we are now in our off-season, as a team we have been impacted through the loss of team skills and fitness sessions, as well as access to our gym. These are pretty key losses, as the off-season is a great time to improve the small things that take longer to develop.
How will training carry on? What are you doing to stay fit and also connected to your teammates?
We have been given training programmes by our Strength and Conditioning coach which are great to keep the body moving and keep some sort of sanity in these pretty hectic times. We’re also in the process of doing video analysis of some Premiership games to maintain an awareness and understanding of the game – it also gives us the chance to watch some rugby! Obviously, the boys have our various group chats which have been going off recently and these are keeping everyone together as a team.
Trinity term is going online. Does this mean more time to focus on things other than sport?
Well if it is true that we will be given the same amount of work as would otherwise be set, then it’s just going to be another Trinity I guess. It’s unfortunate we are going to lose some pretty historic socials such as the forwards vs. backs cricket game, but these are of course small sacrifices in these times.
In light of the current coronavirus situation, we at Cherwell are interested in bringing together student zines to publicise Oxford’s writing community.
Many students in the coming weeks will be studying remotely, perhaps in self-isolation and quarantine, in a context of increasing uncertainty. Writing becomes more important than ever, not only for creative expression, but also for mutual encouragement, and of course for keeping in touch with Oxford even as we remain away.
Student zines are often little-known. The Media section on the university website lists three – Cherwell, Oxford Student, and Isis Magazine – but diversifying our voices can only be a strength.
Here are five of Oxford’s brilliant zines, introduced by their editors and reviewed by Cherwell. There are, of course, many more we have missed – please do contact [email protected] if you would like your magazine to be featured.
Hypaethral Magazine
Editor’s message: ‘Hypaethral Magazine is a new online platform for the arts. It seeks to provide a home for university students who are creative to submit and showcase their work during the 2020 COVID-19 lockdown. University provides opportunities for community, workshopping, events, and publication, but with terms cancelled, culture centres closed, and social distancing enforced it has become a lot harder to engage in the arts. Suddenly we’re stuck inside with a lot of time on our hands. Writing and creating art is accessible, fills this time, and is scientifically proven to improve our mental health. Art is a way to survive, and to express our emotions at this difficult time. That’s where we come in. We will aim to accept and post content on our website https://hypaethralmagazine.wordpress.com weekly, as well as starting a survival pack mailing list to get you through this trying time, and sharing prompts / challenges / recommendations on our social media. Art can transport us out of isolation. We hope we can help.‘
Perhaps the newest zine here, Hypaethral offers an eclectic range of creative writing from short stories to extracts from unfinished plays, presented in its minimalist web design. There is much potential in the few pieces it has so far presented: Maya Little’s Poem for Somewhere Else conveys a wistful view of isolated multiverses, while Lucy Thynne’s story Motherly Love is a masterful rendering of domestic tensions rising in the unsettling, claustrophobic conditions of quarantine.
Sine Theta Magazine
Editor’s message: ‘Sine Theta Magazine is an international, print-based creative arts publication made by and for the Sino diaspora. It was founded in 2016 by friends from around the world, and its staff, contributors, and interviewees have spanned the globe, from Sweden to South Africa, as well as right here at Oxford University, where our editor-in-chief is a student. We publish quarterly, themed issues showcasing the creative outputs of Sino creatives, and act as a platform for dialogue on the complex nature of diasporic identity. We also feature artists and writers online, on Instagram and Twitter. We serve to empower and connect the Sino diaspora but publish in English and welcome all readers.’
In the eye-catching vibrancy of their artwork, Sine Theta easily intrigues and, opening the striking covers, you will not be disappointed by the richness of its content, spanning poems, personal essays, and exclusive interviews, which have in the past included the nature writer Jessica J. Lee and performance artist Patty Chang. Its editors have a knack for tantalising submission themes, with beautiful results. However, the zine is less accessible, with most issues costing just above £10, though a pdf version is offered for its writers.
Cuntry Living
Editor’s message: ‘Cuntry Living Zine acts as a space to platform voices and issues of those identifying and experiencing oppression as women* and non-binary people. We have totally open submissions, and accept anything from poetry, to playlists, art, recipes or photography. We’re always striving to ask better questions, give better answers and platform new voices, and we make space for creativity without fear of judgement or rejection. We produce 3 zines a year, and run events alongside it, including club nights and craft events. Integral to the aesthetic of Cuntry Living is the DIY collage work that accompany the pieces submitted, produced during our ‘cut and stick’ sessions open to anyone. We cut up traditional, sexist media from magazines such as Glamour and Cosmopolitan and repurpose it for our message. We have digitalised our Winter 2019 and Spring 2020 editions, which you can find here: issuu.com/cuntryliving.’
Cuntry Living is propelled by a wondrous, irreverent defiance that explodes in vivid collage and sprays of cut-out words. This is where you can discover some of Oxford’s insta-poetry, with the undeniable influence of Rupi Kaur’s feminist art amongst others in the quirkily distinctive multimedia. The writing quality varies, although in Cuntry Living this is part of the joy of it – a delight in crafty experimentalism. Ella Woodcock’s Double Take, presented as a screenshot from a memo, is one curious example, as is the tiny note purportedly found in a copy of Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels.
Onyx
Editor’s message: ‘Onyx Magazine is an annual creative arts magazine that uplifts the work of Black poets, artists and writers. The magazine’s vision focuses on being an authentic tool of expression for Black creatives who are underrepresented both in higher educational institutions and the publishing industry within the UK. This vision stemmed also from the wealth of talent that Team Onyx felt was not being captured in print publication. Founded by eight Black Oxford undergraduates and printed in Oxford, the magazine features poetry, historical articles, art, creative think pieces, and is recognised by its black matt front cover and silver foiling. The name for the magazine stems from the historical use of Onyx as a medium to form pottery and art, which dates back to as far as the Second Dynasty. In a similar way to the gemstone’s use Onyx Magazine aims to be the medium through which Black creatives shape and express their artistry. It also points to the inherent value and worth of finding, polishing and celebrating ‘underground’ art. Since conception Onyx has been invited to No.10 Downing Street and the Houses of Parliament, and also won its first award in 2018.’
The gorgeous black covers with the mark of an onyx offer a foretaste of some of the artistic boldness within. In its thought-provoking articles on race, and such poetry as Theophina Gabriel’s exquisitely poignant III: Ghost, the magazine reveals inspirational creativity from a lesser-known side of Oxford, set off by brilliant illustrations playing with contrasts between light and dark. The latest issue of Onyx can be found at £7.99 online. During the COVID-19 lockdown, Onyx has also begun a ‘BUY 1 PASS 1 ON!’ scheme whereby you can choose to buy a copy and give another for free at no extra cost, while receiving a free enamel pin badge ‘as a nod to helping create a feeling of community and togetherness during this isolating time’ – a lovely gesture.
State of the Arts
Editor’s message: ‘State of the Arts aims to provide a space for new writers in Oxford to showcase and workshop their pieces. We host regular writing nights during term time, where writers read out their work, give each other feedback and throw around ideas. Throughout the vacation, and a potentially remote Trinity term, we will be organising live streams for writers to talk about their work, as well as digital workshop sessions. We are also setting up a playwright pool to connect writers and help them work together. To keep people creating throughout this time, we are sending out regular prompts and providing an online space for our writers to workshop each other’s’ pieces. We will publish select pieces on our website, and are hoping to put together a journal once back in Oxford.‘
A fledgling publication we are excited to introduce! Watch this space.
“It is with great pleasure that I call upon Mr. Malcolm X to speak fifth, in favour of the motion.” With these words, Malcolm X was introduced to the audience sitting in the chamber of the Oxford Union Debating Society. In the history of a society that has consistently seen significant controversy, marketing itself as a “bastion of free speech”, there is no doubt that this December 1964 debate, on the motion of, “extremism in the defence of liberty is no vice; moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue” was one of its most notable. In the speech that followed, Malcolm X spoke on racial politics, apartheid, protest and his definition of extremism.
He had been invited for President Eric Anthony Abrahams’ farewell debate. Abrahams was a Jamaican Rhodes Scholar, who had beaten out a Christ Church Etonian for the Presidential position. Alongside ex-Treasurer Tariq Ali (who also attended the debate), he had been ‘gated’ by the University a week previously for participation in an anti-apartheid protest.
Malcolm X’s first words were motivated by the speaker who had preceded him. He wryly joked that: “Mr. Chairman, tonight is the first night that I’ve ever had the opportunity to be as near to conservatives as I am.” According to Ali, Humphry Berkeley, a Conservative MP, mocked his name, personal identity, and his politics calling him ‘America’s leading exponent of apartheid’, and ridiculing ‘X’, questioning why not ‘C’, or ‘Z’. Malcolm took no qualms with responding: “The speaker who preceded me is one of the best excuses that I know to prove our point…I don’t say that about him personally, but that type. He’s right, X is not my real name, but if you study history you’ll find why no black man in the Western hemisphere knows his real name.”
His speech has been seen as one of the best articulations of his ideology and politics, showcasing his ability to engage and interact with his audience. Undeniably, this is one of the most significant visits in the Union’s history. The motivations of the committee and officers play an important role in the diversity of its speakers. Had the President not been a person of colour, who saw Malcolm as a personal and political role model, it is perhaps unlikely that Malcolm would have been invited to speak. An audience member questioned his attack on Berekley’s mocking points, questioning Malcolm’s ‘treatment’ of the MP. His response was simple: “You make my point! That as long as a white man does it, it’s alright, a black man is supposed to have no feelings. But when a black man strikes back he’s an extremist, he’s supposed to sit passively and have no feelings, be nonviolent, and love his enemy no matter what kind of attack, verbal or otherwise, he’s supposed to take it. But if he stands up in any way and tries to defend himself, then he’s an extremist.”
The Union has the platform, and the prestige, to be the centre of such historical moments. Yet it’s been embroiled in scandal after scandal, and the petty politics of committee continue to dominate its reputation.
Its public image can only be good as those who are its representatives: our own Prime Minister is one of its most prominent alumni, alongside numerous other prominent politicians, journalists and public figures who have expressed problematic comments on race. From Johnson labelling Muslim women ‘letterboxes’, to Michael Gove mocking Stormzy’s speech, to Jacob-Rees Mogg posting videos by members of the AfD – the current Conservative generation were raised and trained at the Oxford Union. Simon Kuper’s 2019 article in the Financial Times describing the Union elite during his own time at Oxford makes the image of the origins of the Tory Brexiteer mafia all too obvious.
It is impossible, therefore, to separate the institution from those who have held positions of power within it. Most recently, in the treatment of Ebenezer Azamati, a blind Ghanaian student, the society received international attention with its failure to quickly address the issue. In a disciplinary hearing, Azamati’s membership was suspended for two terms for violent misconduct. Azamati had been dragged out of the chamber for attempting to sit on a seat he had earlier reserved, given he was unsure about the possibility of accessible seating – when challenged by a security guard, he refused to leave, and was forcibly ejected from the chamber. After enormous pressure – a legal challenge from QC Helen Mountfield, a successful motion of impeachment and national and international media scrutiny – President Brendan McGrath resigned.
In 2015, after the debate on whether the British Empire owes former colonies reparations, the Union advertised a cocktail named ‘The Colonial Comeback’. The picture on the poster was of a pair of hands in chains. BME officer Esther Odejimi resigned following the controversy stating that she felt the creation of her role ‘was just an act of political correctness’. Odejimi did not respond to a request for comment.
The Union’s relationship with racial minorities is fraught, but all faith should not be lost – slow, but consistent changes provide fragments of hope for the future of the society. The appointment of an Ethnic Minorities officer in 2015 to represent the interests of BAME members of the Union signalled the beginning of an awareness that they had a wider responsibility to stand for people of all backgrounds. Fluctuating levels of BAME committee members are exhibited in recent years, but the current level of around 38% self-identifying Black and Minority Ethnic students on committee surpass the level of overall University representation (which, as of 2019, is at a dire 22%).
In defence of the Union’s position as the ‘bastion of free speech’, there is evidence of a wide-ranging variety of opinions present in its recent history. Panels on Uighur Muslims, the Holocaust, and Shamima Begum all give the impression of an engaged, dynamic Oxford Union which promotes meaningful and necessary discourse.
Within the last decade, visits from black icons — ranging from Al Sharpton to ASAP Rocky — evoke an Abrahams era Union: ready to give a platform for a worthy purpose. In November 2016, the Union’s famed red chamber was graced with the presence of Black Lives Matter activists. The event brought the mothers of sons lost to racially charged shootings across the Atlantic to share their pain and pursuit of justice. Sybrina Fulton, the mother of Trayvon Martin, united the chamber in tears as recounted her son’s tragic death at the hands of George Zimmerman. Sybrina did not let anyone forget that her “17-year-old son had everything to live for, and the mistake he made, the only mistake he made, was the colour of his skin.”
Jeremy Bararia, the only black member on Standing Committee in Michaelmas term, and one of the first to resign during the Azamati affair, informed Cherwell that if the Union is to change “it needs to be more progressive in the amount of representation in the senior leadership.” Bararia rightly stated that, “looking at the scope of backgrounds that this term’s officers come from, there’s definitely a real step in the right direction.”
“Quite a lot of people have come up to me and asked whether I think the Union is still very ‘white male’, and then I then tell them it’s an all-women officer team and half women of colour – they’re shocked.” Former President Sara Dube, a woman of South Asian descent, told Cherwell. Certainly, the senior leadership this term is far from the white-male-Etonian archetype of the 1980s, and these glimmers of progress suggest that Union has come far.
Yet, a fuller picture is less promising. The all-female, half-BAME officer team is partially explained by a series of resignations which led to a multitude of promotions and reshuffles. Former Union Treasurer, Melanie Onovo, gives a depressing insight into the stark reality behind the image of diversity. She tells Cherwell her time at the Union has felt more like “kind of being a token, like a coloured person who was needed for a slate, and that’s got me to where I am.” For Onovo, whose election was in the wake of the Azamati affair, “it has sometimes felt that other people on committee see me that way, and don’t see me as someone who is capable of making any real change here…just as someone who fit a narrative at a time.”
Dube, whose “Rise” slate won her election in a bloody three-way battle, concedes that her diverse committee is “not a sign that [the Union] has come very far,” by way of being an inclusive space. Looking at past committees, Dube concluded “stuff like this happens in cycles, I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised if next year there were all male officers again.” A sad fact, given that looking back to the forces that brought Malcolm X to the Union shows us that who is on the committee is essential to upholding the right values. In contrast to Sara’s 27% BAME term card, Brendan McGrath’s was only 17%.
With that said, Onovo reminds us that the “arbitrary power” put into the hands of the President extends beyond their term. The termly members’ consultation on Union Accessibility, which Dube started, found that members’ greatest concern about the Union’s atmosphere was the profile of the speakers. They accuse the Union of promoting a hostile environment by way of platforming speakers who often actively work to make ethnic minorities feel unwelcome. The BAME officers from Michaelmas 2019 and Hilary 2020 were contacted for comment.
Onovo says the effect goes further; to Presidents of the past, she said: “You’ve hosted Steven Bannon and you’ve proved we platform racists, but what does that do to the future invitations of minorities and left-wing speakers who may feel unable to speak in an institution that has also hosted people who are directly oppositional to their existence and their identity?”
The Union must recognise that “free speech” cannot come at the cost of silencing the speech of another. This was made clear, as Cherwell reported, in the invitation of Katie Hopkins: Labour MP Naz Shah stepped down from the debate and Historian Evan Smith rejected the invitation to speak in the debate outright, stating: “the long history of previous invitations extended to racists and fascists by the Oxford Union” as the reason for his refusal.
Dube has maintained a commitment to the diversity of speakers, inviting Indian LGBT+ Rights lawyers and the founder of the MeToo movement. She acknowledges it will be a slow process to make everyone feel welcome, “not just in changing the profile of speakers, but in terms of changing the perception of the profile of speakers we have.” The media haven’t aided the good forces at work: invites to Steve Bannon and Tommy Robinson get international news coverage, whereas events like the Black Lives Matter Panel are scarcely reported on even within Oxford’s student journalism.
Nonetheless, simply diversifying the profile of the speakers is far from enough. As the Colonial Comeback affair illustrates, despite how progressive events inside the chamber are, attitudes outside the chamber define the atmosphere. As The Guardian reported, black students are no strangers to interrogation upon entry to the Union, and Nazi salutes at social events hardly indicate that minorities are welcome. Onovo discloses that change can only come from “changing the culture and structure here.” Rightly, she spreads the burden for the Union’s failures to champion all speech from the committee, to the staff and the members. Dube worked hard to remedy the institutional elements following the Azamati incident by way of compulsory workshops on diversity and coordination with the Disability Advisory Service.
The nature of the Oxford Union, however, makes this slow process an even more difficult goal. The eight-week life-span of a committee — where from the second week most are well into their election campaigns for the next term — does not foster an environment where real change is sustainable. As Dube identified, “cycles” of surface level change occur, and are quickly forgotten. The aftermath of the Colonial Comeback incident suggests a dismal pattern: inherent racism came to surface, and was supposedly eradicated by racial awareness workshops. Commitment to these workshops was evidently forgotten, and four years later, the Union appears to be no further along in dealing with its institutional racism. Evidently, it fails to live up to the significant role in discourse it has the potential to play.
“Whether I feel like a token or not”, says Onovo, “I’ve been able to reach officership of the Oxford Union, which is something that would have been impossible for someone like me not very long ago.” These important markers, nonetheless, often disguise how deep the Union’s institutional discrimination lies – until, a truly unfortunate event, like the handling of Mr. Azamati, makes it too difficult to ignore. “There are so many people…who are averse to change here who make it very hard to do the very big things that need to happen at the Union,” Onovo said, “even if it would be possible to start a conversation that is continued after you leave…what is the incentive for anyone to really do that? They have their manifesto claims, they get elected, they do their university work, and then they leave.”
A stepping stone for conservative politicians, a networking opportunity, another job, a chance to see celebrities, or a few bullet points at the end of CV: this is the Oxford Union for most of those involved. But if the label of “the last bastion of free speech” is to mean something, the committee, administrative staff, and members should recognise the Oxford Union’s international and historic reputation. This does not mean it needs to embrace a policy of no-platforming, but commitment to accessible policy, a diverse committee, and fair representation of high profile speakers is a good place to start. A Cherwell editorial from 1964 sums it up: “The Union still drags along, with a few furtive bleats of ‘change’, which never seem to materialise once the Presidential Elections are out of the way.” Let’s hope the Union of future terms can shake off this apathy.
“Oxford Union” by Targuman is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
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