There’s no denying that life at Oxford is filled with moments which would not exactly be considered normal to those outside of the Oxford bubble. Matriculation, sub fusc, bops – life here is permeated with language which, to those who are not familiar with the intricacies of this world, is slightly alien at best, and completely undecipherable at worst. I can completely understand how this exclusionary rhetoric feeds into the ideas of ‘poshness’ held by onlookers, but is this conception merely a myth, or does it still hold some weight?
I distinctly remember arriving at St Catherine’s College for the first time, anxious with anticipation about whether the people I would spend the next four years with would fulfil what I considered to be the Oxford stereotype: posh, introverted, and far more familiar with the library than the college bar. I also cannot help but remember the words “what school did you go to?” making their way into the very first conversation I had. Coming from a school where getting into Oxford was about as normal or attainable as going to Hogwarts, I was all too aware that my input to this conversation would hold absolutely no relevance to those coming from the network of private education.
Fortunately, I’m now three years down the line, and my time at Oxford has proven to me that my initial conceptions and experiences could not be further from my reality. I consider myself very lucky to be surrounded by people who are all from completely different backgrounds, and I feel as though each one of the people I hold closest to me has added something uniquely valuable to my university experience. Of course, there are the occasional moments of eye-rolling amongst us when an out-of-touch comment is made, and there are invariably topics of discussion that we cannot all relate to, but it is important to remember that this is not a phenomenon which is exclusive to Oxford.
I am also acutely aware, and eternally grateful, that Catz, renowned for its more laid-back and friendly atmosphere, is perhaps one of the least susceptible colleges to distinctions of ‘poshness’ which have the potential to create divides between groups of students. Having said this, part of me cannot help but wonder if this has less to do with the atmosphere of inclusivity that the college is proud of having fostered, or whether it rather plays into the desire of Oxford students to sometimes pretend as though there is not a class divide within the University. When such divides are not acknowledged, I feel as though this feigned ignorance has the power to become something more threatening to relationships. The desire (or even pressure) to blend in with peers is not something inherently strange, yet the quiet deceptions which underscore this desire to fit into a set mould have the potential to create much bigger problems than those which could arise from acknowledging our respective privileges and differences. A more diverse student body is something that many of us still chase, so why do we persist in trying to fulfil conventions of a set Oxford type?
Although the people at Oxford may not inherently be any further from ‘normal’ than those at any other university (after all, normality is subjective), some of the institutional practices here are markedly more bizarre. After all, what other university precedes dinner with Latin chants? Or not only allows, but celebrates, three-way college relationships which result in having kids just a year later? Trying to explain Oxford’s traditions to people who exist outside our bubble does draw attention to the bizarreness of life here, and I, for one, can certainly see how all the University’s little quirks can be interpreted as ‘posh’ to onlookers. Even our sports socials – a decidedly common university affair – comprise games that get some looks when shared with friends from other universities. We can, of course, dismiss these as silly little differences of language or culture, but to those who aren’t privy to life at Oxford, these traditions can make the University seem worlds away from real life.
However, it is perhaps in the subtleties of Oxford life where class differences become most apparent. The distinction of ‘poshness’ is one which, to me, exists not just between Oxford and the rest of the world, but also within the University itself. Existing at Oxford can be expensive, and class divides can manifest themselves in ways which may not be apparently obvious. Onlookers understandably perceive Oxford’s balls and events as a ‘posh’ affair, but it’s important to remember that this is a feeling which doesn’t cease to ring true on a university level. Differences in class manifest themselves in the very fact that some students are able to attend several balls a year, whilst others never experience one due to financial constraints. An Oxford Union membership was framed to me in freshers’ week as integral to the true Oxford experience, and now I know that this could not be further from the truth.
It’s no surprise that a world in which the significance of certain costs is overlooked, one with prevalent sentiments of “you’ll only be here once” or “it’s the experience of a lifetime”, can give rise to the impression that its students are by default ‘posh’ and part of a privileged elite. However, the longer I spend in Oxford, the more I both notice the tendency of this sentiment being used to justify many of Oxford’s traditions, and yet understand that it cannot be generalised to the entire University population. It’s easy to forget that Oxford is full of people who live a very average life outside of the University when most of what is published online draws attention to the intricacies that differentiate it from the outside world.
In truth, after spending a year away from Oxford on my year abroad, I have grown to miss its quirks – quirks which may translate as ‘poshness’ to onlookers, but do undoubtedly form part of what makes life at Oxford so special. After all, where else can you wake up at 5am to hear choral singing from Magdalen tower, get your work brutally scrutinised by some of the world’s leading academics, punt down a river, and dance the night away in a black-tie ball, all within the same 24 hours?
