Tuesday 7th October 2025
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Revolt. She Said. Revolt Again. preview – ‘bracingly honest’

Adam Radford
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Revolt. She Said. Revolt Again. preview – ‘bracingly honest’

A young woman pelts into the space. ‘I’ve absolutely fucking cracked it’, she cries. A young man darts in after her, turns to the audience nearest him and insists that he is never aroused by porn. Amidst the woman’s continuing celebratory shouts, the man turns and, like an enthusiastic market seller touting for business, calls out across the room, ‘Hymens! Unruptured hymens for sale’. The woman then starts to explain why she’s so excited, but swears and scarpers offstage as if she’s forgotten something.

So began my privileged, early viewing of an extract from this week’s Oxford production of Alice Birch’s Revolt. She Said. Revolt Again.

I was treated to a further twenty frenetic and exhilarating minutes, in which four actors (three female, one male) repeatedly dive-bombed the stage, each giving voice to numerous characters in a mind-boggling variety of scenarios. Chaos, you might think. But, if so, it’s of the most entertaining, provocative and affecting sort that I’ve yet encountered. The cast carefully delineate every character with sensitivity, never falling into caricature. And in any case, I’m informed that most other scenes follow a more obviously discernible plot. Concerned that this might, in fact, inhibit the cast’s breath-taking energy, I’m reassured that all the scenes are performed with equal panache, each as if an impromptu improvisation in response to a ‘revolutionary’ manifesto-speak slogan, projected above the performance space.

The scene that I saw, the penultimate in the play, was entitled ‘GALVANISE’. Who was to be galvanised and to what end remained unclear, but, rather than shoddy, this seemed to me bracingly honest. Without a doubt, the whole play’s prevailing emphasis is that the relationship between the sexes remains far from equal. In the section that I was shown an employer struggles to praise an able female worker (‘fiercely intelligent – a little on the aggressive side’), while a range of scenarios involving trespass and theft highlight the offensive incongruity that many today still find it easier to respect an individual’s property rights than a woman’s right to control her own body. The limited contextual details for each fragmentary interjection contributed to a pervasive pessimism: when a girl, aged 12, protests against marrying her rapist are we in a grim Atwoodian vision of the future, or in present-day Columbia?

In the concluding monologue to the scene, delivered with heart-aching beauty and sincerity by Lucy Miles, Birch inveighs against any possible pride that we might harbour in the position of woman in our society, but accuses us of having failed to enhance the rich legacy of earlier generations: ‘we stopped watching and checking and nurturing the thought to become the action at some point’. Many of the preceding exchanges reinforce this overall assessment: the production of ‘STOP BEING SEXIST’ t-shirts as mere ‘Merchandise’ suggests a dangerous hollowness at the heart of ‘popular’ feminism; a little boy’s anxiety about his ‘cellulite’ seems to question how many of society’s ills should actually be laid at the door of sexism; and I’d challenge anyone not to feel confused and disconcerted by a child’s concern for the bleeding feet of a convicted rapist, serving a sentence of community service. Directors, Emma Howlett and Lauren Tavriger accentuate this tendency to refuse neat and simple answers with their decision to stage their production in a traverse configuration, affording different parts of their audience literally conflicting perspectives.

Nothing in the play from what I witnessed seemed to proffer any remedy for the persistence of sexism. And, yet, on leaving, I didn’t feel frustrated or disheartened, but energised. The true wonder of this piece – and especially of this production – is that it confronts its demanding subject matter with such energy, such enthusiasm and, it should be stressed, such humour that an audience cannot help but feel positive and encouraged for the future.

When first performed in 2014 Revolt. She Said. Revolt Again was quickly hailed as feminist rallying cry for today’s generation. I have little doubt that in this student production, opening on Wednesday (2nd week) at the Pilch Studio, the play will again prove an outstanding hit. But, now after the last bruising year, with the revelations of the Harvey Weinstein scandal and the #MeToo campaign, I can’t help but view the play more as a plea for recognition of our current parlous position than as a cry for immediate revolution. Like the woman who thought she’d ‘absolutely fucking cracked it’, we may have to think again.

Lets talk about: cultural appropriation

Meha Razdan
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Lets talk about: cultural appropriation

Cultural appropriation is defined as elements of a minority culture being co-opted by members of a dominant culture. This misappropriation is mired in an underlying power imbalance, and often implications of a colonial past.

This disparity is made all the more harmful when members of minority cultures are often actively dissuaded from engaging with or exhibiting their culture, being told to assimilate and appear ‘less ethnic’, while members of a dominant culture are deemed trendy for ‘borrowing’ elements of that same culture. It’s easy to dismiss it as a hyperbolised issue, to claim that it’s not ‘real’ racism, or even state that it ought to be encouraged because it promotes diversity. But stripping symbols and artefacts of their cultural context is consistently damaging.

The Swastika, for instance, is widely stigmatised in today’s Western world as an emblem of hatred, bigotry, and white supremacy. This delegation has everything to do with the fact that Nazis adopted the symbol in the 1930s, and nothing to with the symbol’s ancient role in Hindu, Jain, and Buddhist iconography as an indicator of auspicious tidings.

In the United States, countless sports teams derive their mascots and names from caricaturing Native American culture and perpetuating harmful ethnic stereotypes, such as the Kansas City Chiefs, the Cleveland Indians, and the Washington Redskins – all of which capitalise on the Native symbols they have taken and reduced to props for their own franchises, which earn them millions.

No matter how much people insist this kind of hypervisibility is some sort of compliment to the culture from which a symbol is taken, the fact remains that cultural appropriation does little to benefit members of minority cultures, and often harms them. Native Americans themselves enjoy little to none of the financial gain borne of the flagrant disrespect of their culture – in 2013, only five players across the entirety of the USA’s National Football League were of Native American origin.

Those who argue that Native Americans should be grateful for the spotlight shone on their culture overlook the fact that the image of Native Americans being disseminated by these mascots is not an accurate one entrenched in any awareness of the culture, but rather one formed from a conflation of offensive ethnic stereotypes stemming from a history of racism and colonialism.

While dreadlocks have been adopted as accessories for white counterculture and the Hippie movement, the black communities from which the hairstyles originate must still contend with negative stereotypes and assumptions related to the hairstyle – often black people are banned from wearing their natural hair or dreadlocks in the workplace.

The Dotbusters were a hate group operating in America in 1987 who targeted South Asian immigrants, specifically women wearing bindis. Yet today, bindis are marketed as ‘festival face gems’ and worn as cheap accessories to festivals such as Coachella, with little respect for their role as Hindu or Jain religious motifs, as well as the violence and discrimination that South Asian women continue to face for wearing them.

The sharing and experiencing of other cultures is an invaluable tool in strengthening tolerance and diversity across communities, and is to be encouraged. But sharing implies something that is done on equal footing. It requires the consent of the minority community and must be done with an understanding that you are participating in something that is not your own.

To appropriate a culture is to approach a minority culture with a sense of entitlement, the feeling that the power you hold as a member of the dominant culture allows you to simply pick and choose elements of another person’s lifestyle as though it’s a dress-up box that requires no context, credit, or knowledge.

To appropriate a culture is to belittle it. Choose to appreciate different cultures instead. Try new cuisines, learn different languages, watch foreign films or listen to foreign music, buy handicrafts from fair trade shops so that your purchases benefit and credit their creators and their countries.

Just remember, when you copy work or don’t cite sources in an essay, it is plagiarism. When you illegally watch or download a film, it is piracy. Both plagiarism and piracy are, essentially, theft, and therefore so is cultural appropriation – the theft of respect and credit from communities and cultures who so sorely deserve it.

Period poverty is a national embarrassment, not a ‘women’s issue’

Ellie Duncan
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Period poverty is a national embarrassment, not a ‘women’s issue’

It’s somehow both brilliant and bleak that 2017 was the first year in which the word ‘period’ was first used in a house of parliament. Last year brought significant milestones in the fight to end ‘period poverty’, a cause that has been championed by the 18-year-old activist Amika George with her #FreePeriods movement.

Yet, as George’s campaign stresses, period poverty is an unacceptable part of everyday life for many children from low-income backgrounds – and one that has gone unchallenged for far too long.

“I think that the existence of period poverty only came to public consciousness as recently as this year, when reports of girls routinely missing school because they couldn’t afford menstrual products were thrust into the media glare” George told Cherwell. “What’s been depressing since then is the lack of any affirmative action by the government, despite outrage and horror that girls were often using socks stuffed with tissue, or newspaper.”

George started an online petition in April 2017 after reading a report about children in the UK who regularly miss school for up to a week per month, due to not being able to afford adequate sanitary supplies. Addressed to Justine Greening and Theresa May, it calls on the government to offer free sanitary protection to children on free school meals. George explains: “Justine Greening’s stance on period poverty is that the onus lies firmly with schools and parents and the government has absolved themselves of any responsibility in finding a solution.

“I think this is terribly myopic – we all know how stretched school funding is, and it’s clear that they’re facing a funding crisis, which is a real challenge for many educational establishments.

“In addition, there is such abject poverty in the UK that families are struggling to buy food and are dependent on donations at food banks. When there’s no cash for food, where is money for period products going to come from?”

The Free Periods movement has estimated that the cost of supplying sanitary products to children on free school meals would be around £4.78 million – a trivial amount given the billions of pounds currently spent on projects such as Trident.

Crucially, this would redress the damaging educational deficit being created by the embarrassment and fear which causes young women to miss school on a regular basis. It is important to remember too that this is a situation affecting many children worldwide. The charity initially approached by schools in Leeds, Freedom4Girls, focuses mainly on supporting girls in Kenya.

Even for those privileged enough not to have to worry about a lack of sanitary supplies, the embarrassment of a period (particularly in a school environment) is a familiar memory – sneaking a tampon up the sleeve here, slowly and quietly ripping open a pad there.

Encouragingly, there are a number of MPs who have declared their support for George’s campaign. A London protest on December 20 saw speakers including Jess Phillips and the MP for Oxford West and Abingdon, Layla Moran, who recently spoke candidly to parliament about her own memories of period shame at school.

As George told Cherwell: “it’s so important to have MPs who are vociferous in speaking out on behalf of women in the House of Commons because we are underrepresented in the House in the first instance and women’s issues may well get side-lined by other more ‘pressing’ issues.”

So far, George’s campaign has been hugely successful, attracting just over 138,000 signatures at the time of writing. It highlights the important link between educational potential and period poverty, and at the same time has crucially important things to say about how we are educated about menstruation in the first place, and the severity of this issue.

Period poverty should not be a ‘women’s issue’ when it is part of the wider fight against educational inequality. As George told Cherwell: “we need to dispel the culture of shame and embarrassment that we inherit from a young age about our periods and we need to work together to embrace them, to celebrate how ridiculously powerful our bodies are. “Education is key and will underpin any shift in perception on periods – the curriculum needs to change and schools must talk about periods with girls and boys must be part of that, too.”

George hopes that by fighting period poverty and normalising periods, we can take another step towards eradicating the sexism and hypocrisy that still looms over public discussions of what a woman’s body should be.

Positive change is happening in the way the media talk about periods, such as a sanitary advert using real blood rather than blue liquid, (though as George points out, it hasn’t yet been televised). With the continued campaigning of inspirational women like Amika George, we are already beginning to see a much-needed overhaul in the way we interact with periods.

Google invests in Oxford’s ‘universal’ flu jab

Jeremiah O'Mahony
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Google invests in Oxford’s ‘universal’ flu jab

Google has invested £20 million in Oxford University spinout company Vaccitech, which is working to develop a new “universal” flu vaccine.

Vaccitech was founded in 2016 by Oxford professors Adrian Hill and Sarah Gilbert from the University’s famous Jenner Institute. The company seeks to solve issues encountered by traditional flu treatment.

The new flu shot is set to be a “fundamental advance in flu vaccine design.”

Professor Hill, head of Oxford University’s Jenner Institute, told Cherwell: “The harsh reality about flu vaccines is that they’re not hugely different than they were 50 years ago. They’re still mostly grown on eggs.”

Standard vaccines create antibodies that seek out flu viruses based on proteins on its surface. However, these surface proteins change from strain to strain.

Vaccitech’s new vaccine stimulates T-cells, part of the body’s immune system which identify the viruses by proteins on their interiors. “The vaccine doesn’t double [the T-cell count], it increases it tenfold,” said Hill.

Unlike the surface proteins, the interior proteins hardly ever change. Hill notes that 95 per cent of flu viruses have these proteins, so the new shot is expected to be effective on nearly all strains of flu.For this reason, the vaccine has been described as “universal.”

Vaccitech hopes to immunise patients against flu for more than a year. The World Health Organisation (WHO) currently commissions new strain-specific vaccines every February.

But the WHO method has been criticised. The American Centre for Disease Control (CDC) alleges it only reduces the risk of getting the flu by 40-60%.

Vaccitech’s new vaccine is set to be used as a complement to traditional vaccines, though not as a replacement.

It is expected that the T-cells stimulated by the new vaccine, and the antigens stimulated by standard vaccines, would work together to provide comprehensive protection against the flu.

Professor Hill acknowledged that “if one is flawed, the other will make up for it.”

Dr Tom Evans, Chief Executive of Vaccitech, said: “When you look at the 250m people chronically infected with Hepatits B globally, or the number of people killed by the flu each year, it becomes clear just how much potential impact Vaccitech’s portfolio of vaccine products could have on the world.

“Vaccitech is clearly well positioned to have an important impact on global health.”

Vaccitech’s vaccine is currently in clinical testing, which will end in 2019. Vaccitech’s shot should be ready to launch in 2023.

Evans says the date “may be more like 2024 or 2025.”

Vaccitech intends to partner with a company manufacturing standard vaccines after the clinical trials are over.

Evans told Reuters: “If we get positive data that shows we can affect rates of hospitalisation and illness with influenza then there is no question in my mind that a partner would take this on.”

Professor Hill said that Vaccitech had attracted international interest, as “Google likes game-changers”.

Google made its investment through its venture capital arm, Google Ventures (GV).

Tom Hulme, General Partner at GV, said: “Vaccitech’s world class team have achieved an incredible amount with relatively little funding to date.

“We look forward to it being applied to tackle multiple human diseases.”

The company joins a handful of other contributors to offer funding, including investment firm Sequoia China and Oxford Sciences Innovation.

The new funds will be used in part to conduct a 2000-person study in Oxford. Vaccitech was a finalist for the Best Start-Up Biotech Company Award at the OBN Annual Awards, which celebrate the UK’s “innovative life sciences”.

In addition to this new flu vaccine, Vaccitech is working on new methods of treating prostate cancer, Middle Eastern Respiratory Syndrome (MERS), Hepatitis B, and papillomavirus.

The jellyfish turning sleep theory on its head

RayW
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The jellyfish turning sleep theory on its head

Deliberately losing consciousness for prolonged periods of time is not the best survival strategy, yet many animals do just this, spending hours on end asleep. Despite the prevalence of sleep, scientists are still unsure why this seemingly counterproductive behaviour evolved. Sleep has a number of functions, including strengthening or weakening synapses (the connections between neurons), clearing away waste produced by neurons, and strengthening memories. However, with so many functions, it is unclear what the original reason was that drove the evolution of sleep.

Hope for a resolution of this conundrum comes from recent research led by Caltech’s Paul Sternberg, which indicates that even jellyfish, one of the most ancient animal groups, sleep.

Sleep is characterised by three behavioural characteristics: a period of decreased activity, reduced responsiveness to stimuli, and regulation to ensure the animal gets enough sleep. Researchers were able to demonstrate that the jellyfish Cassiopea satisfies all three criteria for sleep.

Firstly, Cassiopea show a quiescent state, decreasing their activity during the night. Importantly, to distinguish sleep from other sleep-like phenomena such as paralysis and coma, quiescence must be rapidly reversible. Indeed, addition of food rapidly woke the sleeping jellyfish.

Secondly, Cassiopeia is less responsive when asleep. To show this, researchers made use of an unusual feature of this jellyfish – they are upside down. Being upside-down, when they swim, they move towards the sea floor, where they rest their tentacles pointing upwards. When raised above a surface they will swim downwards until they adopt this position. Researchers showed that when jellyfish were lifted from the bottom of their tank when asleep they were slower to begin moving back to the bottom than when awake.

Thirdly, Cassiopea regulates how much sleep it gets. Much like if you go out late you might feel tired the next day, Cassiopea also becomes more sleepy if it misses out on sleep the previous night. Keeping the jellyfish awake for six or twelve hours by squirting them with water caused them to be less active the following day. The same treatment applied during the day had no effect on the jellyfish, indicating that they were suffering from sleep deprivation rather than physical fatigue.

These findings are important because jellyfish possess a very simple nervous system. While many animals have a centralised nervous system (where neurons are concentrated together into an area that forms the brain and nerve cord), jellyfish have no brain, instead having a diffuse network of nerve cells throughout the body called a nerve net. The fact that sleep exists in an animal with such a simple nervous system suggests that sleep evolved before the evolution of a centralised nervous system. This suggests that the original role of sleep is nothing to do with the brain, but is instead a more fundamental requirement of a nervous system.

One possible reason is that sleep is required to clear away waste products produced by neurons during the day. A study in mouse brains show that during sleep, the space between brain cells may increase, allowing toxins to be washed away by a flow of cerebrospinal fluid (a clear fluid found in the brain and spinal cord). However, it is unclear whether, without a brain, the same thing might occur in a much simpler nervous system.

Another theory is that sleep may provide a time for damaging molecules produced by metabolism called free radicals, to be removed. In other words, sleep would act as an antioxidant. At the end of the day, we still do not know why sleep first evolved, but with the discovery of sleep in such a simple nervous system as the jellyfish’s, we may be one step closer.

Pembroke to donate to fund for stabbed teenager

Emily Lawford
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Pembroke to donate to fund for stabbed teenager

Pembroke College will donate to a fund set up for Harun Jama, who was murdered outside college owned accommodation this month.

Jama, 16, was found stabbed on 3 January near a children’s playground in Friars Wharf, Oxford, across from Pembroke’s Geoffrey Arthur building.

Pembroke JCR President, Carolina Earle, proposed a motion to donate £200 to the Harun Jama’s JustGiving page, set up by his friend Jamal Madar.

The JCR voted to donate some proceeds from a charity auction in Hillary term. The page aims to raise £2,000 for the Human Relief foundation to build two wells in Ghana in Harun’s memory.

The motion acknowledged that Jama was “a greatly loved member of his home community”, and that his murder “has deeply shocked the Pembroke community”.

During the meeting it transpired that the motion was unconstitutional, as the JCR can only give money to charity directly through the charity ballot later in term.

The motion was then amended to propose a donation of some of the revenue from this term’s Auction for Promises Charity event to Jama’s JustGiving fund.

It also proposed to “officially express the condolences of the Pembroke community to, and in commemoration of, Harun Jama”.

The motion passed unanimously.

Carolina told Cherwell: “The murder of Harun Jama was untimely and brutal. The nature and the proximity of the fatal attack being just metres from one of Pembroke’s main sites of accommodation has meant that Jama’s murder was one that has significantly affected the Pembroke community.

“We wish to extend our support to the grieving members of Harun’s family and friends, and we will be donating the proceeds of a Pembroke charity event to a fund created in Harun’s memory, by his friend Jamal Madar.”

Jamal Madar described Jama as a “teenager with the biggest, whitest smile”, who “had the best of characters towards his friends and especially elders”.

His JustGiving page, created in his friend’s memory, has raised over £850, achieving more than 40 per cent of its aim.

‘Pseudo-scientists’ dropped from Oxford anti-abortion panel

Tobi Thomas
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‘Pseudo-scientists’ dropped from Oxford anti-abortion panel

Oxford Students for Life (OSFL) has dropped two speakers from their forthcoming panel discussion.

The event titled ‘Men and Abortion: A Critical Reappraisal of Why Men Matter’, was due to be held at Trinity College on Tuesday.

Cherwell understands that Controversial pro-life activists Dr Vincent Rue and Dr Catherine Coyle have both had their invitations to speak removed.

Oxford Students for Life told Cherwell: “We’re restructuring the event having looked further into Vincent Rue and Catherine Coyle’s previous research.

“We are committed to high academic standards and thus they will not be speaking at our event anymore.”

The event description stated: “Abortion is typically presented as a women-only issue.

“The prevailing narrative in our society posits that men do not, and should not, have any role to play.

“The male experience of abortion is very real and relevant.”

Rue was the first to suggest the concept of ‘post-abortion syndrome’. He proposed that abortion can cause symptoms similar to post-traumatic stress disorder.

Rue is not a qualified medical doctor. He has a PhD in human development and family studies from the University of North Carolina.

Nicholas Little, speaking on behalf of the The Richard Dawkins Foundation which is a Division of the Center for Inquiry told Cherwell: “Rue’s work on Post Abortion Syndrome appears designed to take whatever data exists and force it to fit a predetermined theory – that abortion harms women – rather than addressing the issue without preconceptions.

“A decision to terminate a pregnancy is one that should be made by the woman concerned, in discussion with her doctor, and without being bombarded by false and pseudoscientific ‘information’.”

Both the American Psychological Association and the American Psychiatric Association have rejected Rue’s theory as a certified condition, due to allegations of flawed research and methodology.

Rue and other pro-life activists have also published a number of studies that claim abortion increases women’s risk of mental health problems, including major depressive disorder and bipolar disorder.

The studies were labelled “essentially meaningless” by members of the Pro Choice Action Network based in Canada.

Dr Rue is opposed to abortion under all circumstances.In 1990, he said he believed women who had undergone abortions as a result of rape were performing “capital punishment on the fetus” and dubbed abortion following incest as a “failure”.

Dr Catherine Coyle has also been removed from the event. Dr Coyle is an author at Men and Abortion, a website that aims to “refine a process of healing” for men whose partners have under- gone abortion.

In 2014, OSFL attempted to host a debate entitled ‘This House Believes Britain’s Abortion Culture Hurts Us All’ which was cancelled after backlash from student activists.

Dr Vincent Rue told Cherwell: “the Dawkins Foundation [accusa- tions] pertains to women and abortion, not men.

“The event at Oxford pertained soley to men and abortion, about which I have published a number of professional articles and research studies in peer reviewed journals on this topic along with my colleague, Dr Catherine Coyle.”

He continued: “Like all professionals, I have a right to my personal beliefs on abortion and a responsibility to ensure they do not unethically interfere with my professional work.”

“I have indeed made it my “life work” to be compassionate and sensitive to the many women and men around the world who have shared with me their traumatic abortion experiences.

“I have also conducted original research both qualitative and quantitative which has been published in peer reviewed professional publications.”

He added: “I find it more than ironic that my professional opinions are censored and unwelcome at Oxford University but were previously invited and presented in a House of Commons committee hearing.”

Dr Catherine Coyle said to Cherwell: “Some Oxford students have been swayed by false accusations and innuendo.

“We would have expected a thorough fact-checking rather than blind accusations of undermining our scientific work as well as our character.

“Are Oxford students not aware that an accusation is not equivalent to a factual truth?

“Some Oxford students seem to be ignorant of a primary aim in Oxford University’s mission statement, that being, “the exchange of ideas in a democratic community of scholars.”

Student dresses as Stephen Hawking at LMH bop

Fred Dimbleby
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Student dresses as Stephen Hawking at LMH bop

An LMH student has been criticised for wearing a Stephen Hawking costume to a college bop.

The able bodied student attended the bop, which was themed ‘Dress as your degree’ on Saturday.

The student was referred to the Dean after angry responses from many in college.

He sat on an office chair with wheels to mimic the wheelchair that Hawking uses. The scientist was paralysed from a slow progressing form of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS).

A spokesperson for LMH said: “Our Dean will be speaking to the student to express the college’s disappointment and to ask him to reflect on why his behaviour would be seen by many as offensive.”

The President of the JCR, Lana Purcell, said: “This behaviour breaches our clearly expressed expectations for bop costumes. We are angry and disappointed that this has happened and have referred the person to the Dean.”

Oxford SU Students Disability Community (OSDC) also criticised the student for their costume.

Their Chair, Miranda Reilly, and College Disability Rep Officer, Josie Paton, who is an undergraduate at LMH, said: “While it is not impossible to dress respectfully as Stephen Hawking, as a world-renowned physicist, this seems to have not been the case or intention.

“Mobility aids are an important tool in many disabled people’s daily lives, and so it is disrespectful for them to be parodied in this way.

“Using disability as a punchline is unacceptable and this proves we need wider awareness of disability issues at this university.”

“However, while many people will express shock at this incident; we would incline you to consider the more subtle forms of disability as a costume, and question even where this is used respectfully.

“The majority of the very few disabled roles in film, stage and television go to non-disabled actors with no criticism outside of the disabled community.

“Ableism comes in many forms far more subtle than this incident at the bop.”

A spokesperson for Oxford SU said: “Oxford SU has passed policy on Bop and Entz themes which believes that bops should be inclusive.

“If the intention was to offend then this contradicts that belief and the spirit of the policy.”

A first year said: “From talking to people, it has been taken very much in the spirit with which it was intended.

“While maybe not the best choice, for a guy in normal clothes sitting in an office chair, it seems to have been blown a bit out of proportion.

This is not the first time that an LMH student has attracted criticism for a bop costume. In Michaelmas 2017 another student was criticised for trivialising the “lived experience of survivors” of sexual assault after attending a bop dressed as film producer Harvey Weinstein.

The student appeared as Weinstein – who has been the subject of multiple allegations of sexual assault and rape – for LMH’s “horror movie classics” themed party.

The student was asked to leave by other students, before later being asked to meet with the college dean to “reflect on his behavior.”

Fiddler On The Roof Review – ‘thoughtful and timely’

Izzy Troth
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Fiddler On The Roof Review – ‘thoughtful and timely’

The laments of a milkman in rural, pre-revolutionary Russia, cursing the outrageous burden of five daughters may not scream ‘relevant content’ in 2018. However, the pressures of restrictive tradition, the powerlessness of poverty, the forced displacement of entire communities – the latter rightly declared by director Glen Young as “undeniably relevant” – may be found in OXOPS’ thoughtful and timely production of ‘Fiddler on the Roof’.

Even if the concept ‘am-dram’ induces dread and an involuntary shudder, this production is worth your time. Integral to this musical is the community, and a society such as OXOPS excels in presenting this in a way that few student productions would manage. The sight of grandmothers swaying to Jerry Bock’s score behind the beams of eager stage-school tweens conveys the warmth, and the claustrophobia, of Tevye’s Anatevka. Tevye’s obsession with reputation before a sizeable community is highly believable from the opening number, the stage being crammed with enough people to populate several villages as they enthusiastically bellow ‘tradition’ as the central tenet of Anatevka life. The other advantage of such an enormous cast is the eagerness of the audience it brings; their regular applause and clear admiration energises the cast as the play develops.

Most impressive, however, are the intimate, all-female scenes. The stand-out performance of the show undoubtedly comes from Jo Lainchbury as Golde, Tevye’s wife, whose unsentimental approach to the role works well in steering the presentation of the village clear from a twee provincial Utopia. The rendition of ‘Matchmaker, Matchmaker’ is surprisingly and satisfyingly gritty, in spite of the title’s suggestion of a nauseatingly saccharine number. An emphasis on the daughters’ desperation, and their fear of a life of marital drudgery – “I could get stuck for good” – complemented Tevye’s (Steve Mellin) own powerlessness. Sardonically referred to by Golde as the “breadwinner”, Tevye is trapped in an economic situation so dire that he contemplates marrying nineteen year-old Tzeitzel (Saffi Needham) to the ageing widower Lazar Wolf. The latter is played with impressive subtlety by Dennis Garrett, who conveys the suffering even of this character, comfortably well-off, but desperately lonely in old age.

An element that works less well is the inclusion of the eponymous, wordless fiddler, who seems perpetually onstage. Tevye’s conversations with the pirouetting, oddly violin-less fiddler draped in a coat that was less the work of Motel’s needle, more a quick visit to the M&S January sale, adds little to Mellin’s depiction of a frustrated yet loving father. The proximity of the fiddler presented Tevye as slightly too self-absorbed in the wrong moments, particularly in the final scenes as he watches his community separate. In a moment when Tevye should be realising that his daughters’ choice of husbands, once so challenging to Tevye’s precious traditions, now prove to be their escape routes, our attention is drawn to the fiddler, whose incongruously cheerful presence is a distraction.

However, as the curtain falls, this gripe is quickly forgotten, as an emotion uncommon in musicals emerges: a sense of bereavement. Tevye’s Anatevka, for all its internal flaws and conservatism, is driven apart by external intolerance. Young’s production conveys this in a highly moving manner. Tevye’s paranoia in attempting to uphold the traditions of a community is rendered futile when that very community ceases to exist. Commanding the respect of Anatevka’s inhabitants and upholding his faith is the source of Tevye’s dignity and influence. To then see him bereft of his daughters, home and community is a haunting sight. It is also an invitation to reflect upon the more intangible losses that an individual incurs when driven from home: support networks, a quiet pride in one’s public stature, security – all must be sacrificed in exchange for survival.

Perhaps the most chilling lines in the production are delivered by Jeremy Lane’s Constable; he describes the devastating pogrom as an “unofficial demonstration”. This is the opaque linguistic manipulation – the masking of hatred and intolerance in bland, clinical discourse – that demagogues continue to deploy in their deception of the public. The cast do such lines full justice; similarly knowingly delivered by Mellin is Tevye’s lyric: “when you’re rich, they think you’ll really know”. Leaving the theatre after this impressive production, one has the depressing realisation that such evils – cultural and religious hatred and its masking in sickening, sound-bite phrases, economic injustice, acceptance of the idea that influence can be bought – remain all too pertinent.

‘Fiddler on the Roof’ is at the Oxford Playhouse until 20th January.

A long way home

Verity Bligh
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A long way home

The start of term, for most Oxford students, means being dropped off by their parents at college. The termly ritual often involves a long car-trip, unpacking various boxes, books and cacti, and perhaps lunch out in town, before saying goodbye. But like many other international students, I will never be dropped off, nor picked up. For me, 0th week brings a pang of homesickness as families flood Oxford’s streets.

I live over 10,000 miles away, in Sydney, Australia. The journey to and from Oxford takes me 30 hours door-to-door, but the transition between these two places lasts much longer. It’s a transition I find very difficult, although it’s taken me a long time to speak openly about it. The journey is always coupled with a sense of overwhelming anxiety, one that starts a week before leaving and takes roughly two weeks, once arrived, to settle down. It’s not the flying itself (although international storage, economy-class seats, and jet-lag definitely don’t help). It’s the feeling of constantly being yanked between two different worlds, and not really belonging in either. It’s almost embarrassing to say that I find the vacations the hardest part of my Oxford degree.

I fully recognise that I am privileged to live in, and travel between, these two beautiful cities and that my feelings of dislocation are in no way limited to me as an individual or as an international student. For example, a close college friend of mine lives in Oxford, a ten-minute walk away. They must re-adjust from the independence of student life to the expectations of their conservative family every eight weeks, without the benefit of distance to buffer the transition. One year on, having learned about myself and my friends’ experiences of first year, I now know that the issue is missing Oxford during term-time rather than resenting home in Sydney. Yet there is also a unique set of problems to living so far away.

These problems start before the vacation even begins, with the process of moving out of college. Packing up is intensely stressful because it’s a responsibility that I have to face entirely on my own. I’m reminded that my college room is only a temporary home, particularly by the rather cold-hearted and dysfunctional international storage system. For the past two years, I’ve lived my life from one suitcase and a few boxes. As soon as I feel rooted, it’s time to pack up again. Then, there’s the issue of travelling solo. For 30 hours, I’m left alone with my thoughts and feelings, in the absence of a friendly face or even wifi. I’m also often mistaken for an unaccompanied minor, (being offered a children’s plane toy was just insulting), and going from the intimate college environment to one in which I am an absolute nobody is especially dislocating.

Next comes the crippling jet lag. For those who haven’t experienced it, jet lag is a bit like a week-long hangover. It simply makes everything worse. Not only am I exhausted when it’s least convenient (i.e.: collections), I also feel moody, over-emotional, disoriented. This was how I felt at my lowest point, exactly one year ago, in 0th week of Hilary in my first year. Jet lag became an extra hurdle, on top of the cold dark winter, academic work and changing friendships, that I had to navigate as an international student. Long-distance relationships are difficult too. It’s impossible to physically meet up with my friends who live in the UK, and the time-difference hinders social media communication, even if today’s transport and technology have made these possibilities easier than ever. It’s even harder to keep up with my friends back home during term-time. This is partly because I struggle to explain what Oxford is like and why it’s such a big part of life without coming off as distant or pretentious. Whilst I recognise that Oxbridge is unique to any other university experience, it’s harder and harder to find common reference points with people my age in Sydney. The norm in Australia is to live at home, study a vocational degree and attend a local university, where the mantra is “Ps get degrees” (where “P” stands for “Pass”, the equivalent of a Third). Most people there don’t quite understand why I’m travelling halfway around the world to study History and Politics at a lesser version of Hogwarts.

There’s also a more existential issue that comes with living so far away, which is that straddling these two worlds challenges my sense of identity. Here, I’m not just talking about growing into my own person at university. The differences between home and college are salient to me as an international student in a way which they simply aren’t for most domestic students. My identity is defined in contradistinction to the place I’m in, but I don’t really belong in either. I am Australian when in Oxford and an Oxford student when in Australia. Even my accent changes depending on where I am, making this disjuncture feel particularly real. I’ve been asked several times in shops and cafés around Bondi where in the UK I’m from and for how long I’m backpacking. I’ve then had to explain that I live five minutes away, and have done so for fourteen years.

I’m still not sure who’s found these conversations more awkward. It’s often easiest to laugh these encounters away or whip them out as funny anecdotes, to hide how difficult I find them. I may post Instagram photos of sunny beaches, but I’m secretly wishing that I was in cold and rainy England at my friend’s Christmas dinner party instead. I’m guilty of both idealising Sydney (the heat, the brunches, the relaxed lifestyle) and complaining about it (the heat, the time difference, the “Eastern Suburbs bubble”) as proxies for the deeper experience of feeling torn between two places.

Over time, it’s gradually become easier to talk about why I’m struggling and how I’m coping directly. My experience is also relatively easy in comparison to other international students. As a British-Australian dual national, with family in the UK, family friends in town, and a dad who went to Oxford, I haven’t had to deal with culture shock or language difference (even if “chirpsing” confused me for an entire term: the Australian slang is “tuning”). It’s a testament to the drive and resilience of these students that they surmount these extra obstacles, which are invisible to most of us, on an everyday basis and with minimal support.

Nonetheless, the distance between Oxford and Sydney, the full 10,000 miles of it, is a blessing as well as a curse. Travel provides a clear separation between college and my family home. In fact, I like to compare the journey to the flashback effect in bad films, when the screen goes wobbly. Travelling between two very different places has a similar hallucinogenic, dream-like, feeling. It’s difficult to remember what life in sunny Australia is like when I’m shivering in the Rad Cam. This separation means that I can clearly categorise my time and memories in each location, without the confusing overlap experienced by students who live in or around Oxford outside of term.

Moreover, seeing friends or attending events such as Twickenham or the Boat Races is not an option for me. This is sometimes comforting, because there’s really not much I can do about this ‘fear of missing out’. It’s perhaps worse for students who live outside the Home Counties, where such a trip is feasible, but costly and impractical. This distance also means that there’s a network of Australian students in Oxford and Cambridge with which I can share common experiences, talk to when I’m homesick and, most importantly, celebrate Australia Day. I now know that I can rely on this network and other close friends in both Oxford and Sydney when I’m stressed out. To tell the truth, it’s been a steep learning curve. I underestimated the difficulties of living so far away from home. But as I’ve gradually grown more confident in myself and my friendships, expecting a tough transition rather than simply switching over, moves have become easier and easier.

Ultimately, the underlying struggle to readjust is common to most, if not all, Oxford students. First and foremost, there is a radical change in pace. Every dimension of life at Oxford – academic, extracurricular, and social – is intense, and, during the vacation, this routine is pulled out from under our feet. I often experience an inescapable sense of boredom during the vacation as my day devolves into a pattern of “eat-sleep-repeat”, combined with overwhelming exhaustion and guilt surrounding collections.

There’s always more to do, even if rest is absolutely necessary to our physical health and mental wellbeing. We are also out of the loop. Returning home after term-time confronts us with the fact that family life goes on without us, and sometimes circumstances change. For me, this has included ups and downs in my family’s health and happiness, as well as the terrifying discovery that my little brother is now two heads taller than me. As a result, it’s often awkward and dislocating to reintegrate into past routines and relationships – to return to “how things used to be” before flying the nest.

This is also the case with friendships based at home. It’s a sad truth that school-age social groups tend to narrow, as they change in importance over time, especially in comparison to the intensity of college relationships. It’s also more difficult to make new friends during the short vacations, meaning that there are fewer and fewer people to come back for at the end of every term. The most challenging experience however is becoming “that Oxford student” – to have my identity reduced to the institution I study at. I have been made fun of, dismissed as pretentious and considered intimidating in this way, both by friends and strangers.

Obviously, life must go on. As I change as a person in my opinions and interests, I must accept that I’ll diverge from my life before university. The truth is that I prefer living in Oxford, even if this truth is sometimes difficult for those at home to accept.

This summer was a turning point for me. My family attended the funeral of one of my dad’s best friends from Oxford, and it made me realise just how precious our time here really is. Out of my dad’s year group of 100 students, half a dozen have lost their lives to accident, mental illness or disease in only 30 years. This realisation filled me with a sense of impending doom, as if life is a constant race to stay ahead of mediocrity, anxiety or tragedy. With halfway hall approaching, I described this feeling to a friend as standing on top of a waterfall with my eyes closed (think “Titanic”). I can feel the water rushing around me and am desperately trying to catch hold of it as it slips through my fingers and pushes me closer and closer to the precipice.

Ultimately, our time at Oxford will likely be the best three years of our lives. Life beyond Oxford is unknown and there’s a limit to what we can do to change that. Truth be told, it was my dad’s stories about college which made me want to study here at the age of ten. Yeats captured it well when he wrote, “I wonder anybody does anything at Oxford but dream and remember, the place is so beautiful”. Our time here is finite, it’s imperative that we seize the opportunities these years provide us with. The terms are intense, the work is rigorous and the vacations are long. I cannot wait to get back to college, despite all the essay crises, emotional breakdowns, and chirpsing drama it entails.

So as I’m sat writing this on the plane, I now know that “home” can be both Sydney and Oxford simultaneously. And I’ve only six hours and 45 minutes of this long journey home to go.

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