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The UK government has failed to provide a British Sign Language (BSL) interpreter to broadcast vital Covid-19 news briefings. Despite an interpreter being present at Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales briefings, England has made the ever-changing rules and regulations inaccessible by not having one, in breach of the Equality Health Act of 2010. Last month, I spoke to Rebecca Atkinson and her Mum, who uses BSL to communicate, about their campaign to include a BSL interpreter at all televised Covid-19 announcements. Their insight brings to light a greater understanding of the difficulties impacting the deaf community during this crisis and the damage that not having an interpreter has caused. Description: ‘Dialect’ is part of a series of work exploring ideas of language, communication and misunderstanding. Referencing BSL fingerspelling and using purple ink to mimic the results from leaves in eco print processes, this work looks at forms of communication which are often overlooked or misunderstood. Why did you start your campaign and petition? Rebecca: It was either the night before or after the emergency lockdown announcement from Boris Johnson. I’m currently at home with my Mum, who only uses BSL to communicate. As the announcement was a sort of unwelcome surprise, there wasn’t an interpreter - BBC or Government provided - and I had to translate most of the information to my Mum. This isn’t something I’m unfamiliar with. Growing up when there were any events like parents evenings or school plays, we’d always ask for an interpreter and most of the time they’d be good enough to provide one. However, a few times they’ve forgotten, or I daresay not even bothered. And it's that feeling of being less to someone that I can’t abide, that your language and your understanding doesn’t matter to someone - this is how I’ve been feeling about the Government briefings. So quickly after that evening I fired up a petition online and sent an email off to my MP. Deaf people and other BSL users should have the same right to information as everyone else. I don’t think our Government quite grasps that BSL is a whole different world to spoken English. Deaf activist Lynn Stewart-Taylor tried to launch a #WhereIsTheInterpreter last October and one petition calling for BSL interpreters to be used in emergency announcements on TV has now closed but amounted to approximately 26,000 signatures - why wasn’t this campaign successful? What measures do the government say provide sufficient alternatives? Why are they/are they not? Rebecca: The #WhereIsTheInterpreter campaign had to switch from being a petition based campaign to a legal challenge (for which a hearing has recently been given the go ahead by a judge). I think it's less a case of the campaign not being successful, and more of the campaign having to change footing. I didn’t realise this was an existing campaign until after I had sent the application off for the petition - a misstep on my part. However, it did make me realise that our Government doesn’t want to listen to deaf people - the only way they will listen is with mounting pressure from all directions, which is why I think the switch to a legal campaign was appropriate. I’ve still kept the petition up - partly because I have no idea how to take it down!- but also because I think if the right amount of pressure was leveraged on the Government they would cave and finally listen. You see it all the time with various U-Turns and the realisation that feeding children are a good thing. Our Government listens to public pressure and scrutiny but only when it is applied continuously and from all sides. At the moment, the Government says that the BBC provides an interpreter and that is the appropriate alternative. There is something to be said for the tax-funded BBC providing this service, however, as I mentioned before, it doesn’t always happen. Additionally, there is a core element to being able to see yourself and your language on television in the room where it happens, so to speak, it would feel like the Government wanted you to be safe like it wanted to care about your life the same way they cared for everyone else’s. Also, I think it feels very lazy on their part. The Government has argued that following PHE guidelines, they cannot safely include a BSL interpreter in the room for daily briefings without potentially putting them and others at risk - isn’t there greater harm in preventing some 80,000 people with hearing loss who watch the Covid-19 briefings being able to understand them? Why haven’t the Scottish, Welsh and Northern Ireland concluded the same? Rebecca: The first point to be made would be that the Scottish, Welsh and Northern Irish governments have fewer people in the room. However, for example, the Northern Irish Government has not one but two interpreters present via a video link - one for BSL and one for ISL (Irish Sign Language). So it's clear that there are many ways around the issue. I think that the Government is doing the bare minimum to protect deaf people. You’re right in saying that there is a greater harm to those by not conveying the right information. I don’t think any of those people in Government have ever been in contact with someone who solely uses BSL for communication. You can’t get the right information across just using subtitles and spoken word. The grammar is all different, the words are more straightforward and in writing, you lose all the nuances given across by someone using their facial and hand expressions to convey the emotion or depth behind a concept. For example, if I said to you, “I feel sad,” you might be able to tell how bad I felt in the tone of my voice and perhaps some subtle undertones in my body language. In BSL, to say ‘sad’ you hold your hand up in a straight line, with your thumb pointing towards your face and then you move your hand down your face towards your chest. Depending on how fast you made that action, or how slow or how large - you could convey multiple different meanings. How are those with hearing loss left feeling by the government still not including a BSL interpreter in their broadcasts? What risk is this leaving them in regarding Covid-19? Mum: My mum says that she feels: why are we different? Why do the other nations get better treatment? The language is very different from spoken English. Coronavirus is so serious that we need to be able to understand what's going on in our first language. Rebecca: It might leave more people susceptible to false information and means there is more leg work to do to try and understand the rules. At a point when the rules aren’t always clear anyways - this is hard to do. Some are threatening legal action as not including an interpreter goes against the Equality Act 2010, the UN disability convention and the Human Rights Act 1998 and is discrimination. Katie Rowley who’s the first language is BSL, sued the government when she learnt she had broken lockdown measures after they were not presented in an accessible format. How is this impacting the mental and physical well-being of people with hearing loss? Mum: Makes more worries, what is wrong with having one when all the other governments and countries appear to have one. It makes it harder to find out what the real information is. Rebecca: At a time when we all feel more lonely than ever before, being able to see your language on-screen would connect the Government to a lot of people. It would make you feel like someone is talking to you personally, taking the time to make sure you understand. What has the response been like since you launched the campaign? Rebecca: It was great at the start. I was really overwhelmed by the amount of response I was getting. However, as it’s gone on and the semester has got gotten harder, it's been really difficult to make time for trying to spread the petition and I also feel at a bit of a loss in terms of where next to put it out to people. On top of that, you start to wonder if people really care about deaf issues. As a CODA (Child of Deaf Adult), throughout my school life, well into uni, people have been amazed by the fact that I have deaf parents and I grew up bilingual - speaking both English and BSL. Yet that's as far as it often goes. They want to know some words from me or show off the words they already know. I’ll teach them some words happily, but I know for a fact that they will never use those words to speak to a deaf person. I know for a fact that they won’t care much about deaf issues or deaf culture. I would go so far as saying that people only want to know sign to show off to their hearing friends. There are whole societies at Universities across the country built upon sign for showing off with no links to the deaf community or the culture. I feel that reflected in the issue of getting an interpreter to the Covid-19 Briefings. If no BSL interpreter is put in place, what do you think the long-term message will be to people with hearing loss? Mum: That the government does not consider people with hearing loss equal. The Government doesn’t think that our lives matter in the same way as hearing people. If you had one message for the government about the impact that this has had on people with hearing loss, what would it be? Mum: Why can’t you do it live with an interpreter, you should look at all the other nations and follow their example, despite being the leader! After our interview, Rebecca informed me that she had sent a letter to Rachael Maskell MP about the use of a BSL translator at Prime Ministerial briefings. She received a reply from the Rt Hon John Whittingdale OBE MP, Minister of State for Media and Data, in which he highlighted that the government was committed to building a digitally inclusive and aims to ensure that Covid-19 media announcements are accessible for all UK audiences.’ He established that following Public Health England guidelines, it was not possible to safely include a physical interpreter at the daily briefings due to social distancing measures. Moreover, he mentioned that the government was engaging with broadcasters in developing appropriate accessibility provisions. Yet, the rest of the letter felt insincere, passing responsibility to individual public broadcasters for providing their own resources due to being ‘operationally and editorially independent of government’. Rather than more concrete conclusions, he further suggests that Rebecca might like to share her suggestions with Ofcom. While social distancing guidelines must understandably be met, too few solutions were drawn from the letter and those included felt unfulfilled. Once again, we are faced with a government who falls short in their delivery on promises to treat people equally. If you would like to sign the petition, please click here: https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/567549 This article was written and edited by Tamara El-Halawani, who interviewed Rebecca Atkinson. Both are students at the University of Edinburgh.

The final instalment of our 2020 Reflections by Chloe and Kirsten. Artwork by Issy Stephens in collaboration with Ekphriasis for their 4th digital volume (Instagram: @lightsleeperstudio). Issy’s website: https://lightsleeperstudio.com/ Ekphriasis’ website: https://www.ekphriasis.com/ Chloe Lawson At the end of January last year, I met a friend after a tutorial. We complained about morning lectures and the trek to university from our flats. At some point during our conversation, we watched in disbelieving awe footage of the deserted Wuhan streets and marvelled at the apocalyptic scenes. It was like watching a documentary; it was shocking and unsettling but remained distant, mere images on a screen. Afterwards, the phone was pocketed and we continued to rail at trivial inconveniences. Just over a month later, murmurs of panic had begun to inch their way into conversations as the first universities cancelled their exams and the previously remote Wuhan scenes were replicated across Europe. In conversation with a friend, I wondered at the prospect of our exams being cancelled, more out of laziness than any true understanding of the impending global situation. In a tone that can only be described as boyish arrogance, I was assured by my companion that they wouldn’t be, though now it is clear that it was in fact ignorance and a shared naivety about the rapidly advancing virus. A mere two days after this interaction, my flatmates and I had all been called home by fretting parents as fear spread exponentially. We hurriedly gutted our flat, said our farewells and booked transport home. The airport was eerily empty and I was reminded of the images of Wuhan. I remember feeling slightly irritated at having to leave Edinburgh early, as well as a form of curious excitement at the prospect of living through a historical pandemic (guess my degree!). My experience over the summer of 2020 was, like the majority of others, isolating. However, on reflection, I was incredibly privileged. Yes, I was irritated at having to cancel plans made to travel to Jordan and Myanmar. Yes, I was uneasy due to the uncertainty clouding my return to university, and yes, I was frustrated at times by the monotony of the days and weeks stretching out before me, punctured by socially distanced walks or essential trips to the supermarket. Nonetheless, living in the countryside with a large garden surrounded by hills during the summer, I led a bucolic existence for 6 months. Despite the world crumbling around me, I was able to spend time with my family and to enjoy being at home without feeling the pressure of having to do something productive every day. Ironically, it was when I returned to university for the winter months that the worst effects of 2020 were felt. With the combination of seasonal and pandemic mental health crises, the unsettling side effects of a year in isolation were starkly visible. Freshers imprisoned in blocks of student accommodation without sufficient food, robbed of the traditional and much-anticipated experiences of first year, with rising student suicides across the country. Mental health concerns combined with pandemic panic, contradictory messages from the government and darkening days culminated in a subdued Christmas. Come New Year's Eve, messages such as “2020 see ya never” were plastered all over Instagram and yet in the early weeks of 2021, the preceding year continues to haunt us. I can only hope that by 2022, we shall be able to resume in-person lectures and the trek to university from our flats. Kirsten Provan I had 2020 in my sights long before it arrived. It was a point I was always moving steadily towards. The year I was going to graduate and start my actual, proper life. Seems laughable now, doesn’t it? Instead of the glittering year I had hoped for, my time, like everyone else’s, was defined by broken promises and cancelled plans. I still graduated, but online, alone, rather than amongst my class. We still celebrated, but in the garden, reserved, rather than proudly in McEwan Hall. It was oddly anti-climactic. My university career just seemed to fizzle out. Completely discombobulated, I decided to turn my intended year of endings into one of new beginnings. I threw myself into a postgraduate degree and became completely immersed in university life again, if only to forget the messy reality beyond George Square. While the whole world felt stagnant, it was nice to be busy. Things are weird right now. Nothing looks how I had imagined it would. Real life remains on hold. But 2020 did ultimately, miraculously, bring me some good surprises, as well as all that lovely doom and gloom. This article was edited by Tamara El-Halawani and Phoebe McKechnie.

We never expected our early twenties to be like this - the second of our 2020 reflection pieces looks at lockdown traditions, graduation difficulties and the once in a lifetime opportunity to pause, grow and change. Amy Houghton It was the year that we all seemed to have a ‘good feeling’ about. The year that wasn't just a new year. The year that was somehow an opportunity to reinvent ourselves and get our lives together on a scale that only appears once every decade. Then it was the year that confined us to bubbles. The one that crippled communities and brought trauma to thousands upon thousands of individuals. The one in which we fell into fresh clichés, inhaling banana bread like no tomorrow, embracing hobbies as speedily as we abandoned them. Between the calamities, and the clapping, and the collective outrage, I was among those who had the privilege of stillness. As a result of my draw in the biological lottery and the life path that it enabled me to forge, 2020 gave me the fortune of slowing down. At first, I self-indulgently mourned the years of my twenties that were yet to happen and begrudgingly resigned myself to existence in stagnation. Time was meaningless and at once was hurriedly escaping through the tiny gaps of our desperately clenched fists. But then I discovered that the slow pace fed my soul. For the first time, I received my own kindness. I could immerse myself in the richness of everything I still had and everything I could still do. Small joys became where I found my fulfilment. This year will be the year that I continue building on the lessons that only stillness could grant me. It will be the year that I continue to live through gratitude. I did not ‘lose’ being twenty-one, and with or without indulgent travel and spontaneous opportunity, I will not lose twenty-two. So the saying goes: we can bloom where we are planted. But then I discovered that the slow pace fed my soul. For the first time, I received my own kindness. Clara Sablitzky I sketched a quick mind map of words to do with 2020 before writing this, just to see what came to mind. You’d be forgiven for thinking that the twelve words I chose reflected the unimaginable devastation and disruption of the past year, but there was only one: loss. I think, sadly, this word encapsulates many peoples’ experiences of the past year, whether they are mourning something tangible or something more abstract. I lost my Great Grandad in the summer, and the restrictions prevented us from attending his funeral, which meant I also lost my last chance to say goodbye. Somehow, though, this loss is easier to reconcile with than the loss of half of my second year of uni, my summer holidays and my year abroad and the thought of all the what-ifs and could-have-beens of time that I will never get back. I think at our age when life is only just beginning, we are so conscious of the life we should be living, experiences we should be enjoying and adventures we should be having. ‘Should’ is a funny word. It’s a modal verb - I’m a languages student, I had to - indicating obligation or duty or expressing the right state or situation for something to be in. I know I’m not the only one who thinks that 2020 ‘should’ have been different and it ‘should’ have been better. But ‘different’ and ‘better’ are personal and subjective and kind of incongruous with the objective strength of ‘should’. Who are we to decide what should have happened? ‘Should’ can only be used in the context of planning what comes next or criticising what’s come before and neither of those is conducive to enjoying the present, which is something I have definitely learned to do in 2020. So, looking at some of the other eleven words on my mind map - time, appreciation, growth, gratitude and love - I think I spent 2020 doing exactly what I should have done; looking after myself, and I think I’m different and better because of that. I know I’m not the only one who thinks that 2020 ‘should’ have been different and it ‘should’ have been better. But ‘different’ and ‘better’ are personal and subjective and kind of incongruous with the objective strength of ‘should’. Who are we to decide what should have happened? Rachel Watkins To say I had high hopes for the first year of what I am often told will be my ‘best years’ would be an understatement. As cliché as it sounds, I expected new experiences, meeting new people and seeing more of the world. Instead, this was replaced with moving back to my parent’s house, not seeing anyone but them for months, and only being allowed outside for an hour a day by law. But as time passed I learned to settle into this environment that I once knew so well, the unique experience of being with my parents as an adult, and learned to love where I live in a way I had never appreciated before. But as time passed I learned to settle into this environment that I once knew so well, the unique experience of being with my parents as an adult, and learned to love where I live in a way I had never appreciated before. This piece was edited by Tamara El-Halawani and Phoebe McKechnie.

Amy Houghton outlines what SARs is and why there are protests against it. Voices from the University of Edinburgh Nigerian society give us an insight into the feelings amongst the local Nigerian community and explain in what ways the rest of the world can practice solidarity. 3 weeks ago the hashtag #ENDSARS gained spectacular momentum across social media platforms as footage of frustrated Nigerian citizens marching the streets began to circulate. To an outsider looking in, it appeared as though this movement was a sudden reaction to an isolated event. However, much like the Black Lives Matter protests that caught the world’s attention, this was a result of a collective tiredness of a much deeper institutional problem. What is SARS? SARS is a unit of the Nigerian police set up in 1992. It stands for the Federal Special Anti-Robbery Squad and was founded with the intention of tackling armed robbery and violent crime. It has since become notorious for its corruption and lawless brutality against citizens, largely as a result of the freedom it was allowed from the outset. Why the protests? The organised movement against this police unit first materialised in 2017 when a petition, with over 10,000 signatories, was submitted to the country’s National Assembly urging for SARS to be disbanded. Its reform and reorganisation was officially ordered but little actually changed. Three years later, the protests were reignited and intensified by graphic footage, posted in October, of SARS officers dragging two men from a hotel in Lagos and shooting them in the street. The protesters have been peaceful, yet they have been subject to shamelessly horrific instances of violence. Most notably, the Lekki Toll Massacre on 20th October saw authorities open fire on a crowd, killing at least 12 people and injuring countless more, though officials have refused to disclose the actual number. As the movement continues and judicial panels are in session, The Edi reached out to the University of Edinburgh Nigerian Society to get a sense of the feelings amongst the local Nigerian community and to ask in what ways the rest of the world can practice solidarity: “Initially muted as a social media campaign in 2017 but without the scale of success recorded in the latest protests, the fact that nothing changed over the three-year period is enough proof of why something as serious as these prolonged protests was needed to get the nonchalant Nigerian government committed to any meaningful reforms. The problem with police brutality in Nigeria is more entrenched than most people outside the country would believe. Two quick examples would drive home the point. First, about four months ago, a bus conveying passengers in Rivers state was stopped by police officers at a checkpoint. One of the passengers in the bus, a 24 year old widow, was forcibly ejected for not wearing a facemask and the driver asked to leave. The lady later accused the leader of the police team of raping her in a hotel where he took her. In defence, the officer claimed it was consensual sex. He remains a working officer. Second, in Nyanya, Abuja two years ago, police officers killed a civil defence officer in broad-daylight. The offence of the deceased, who was with his wife and children, was that he drove against traffic. To this day, these officers, who are known, are walking free. Real life occurrences such as this abound in Nigeria. Hence, it was not surprising that protests aimed at ending it gained that much traction, including from the international press, even if their intervention was belated and minimal. To a large extent, I believe that similar protests organised by Nigerians in the diaspora contributed to the attention from the international community. The most important point that seems to be getting overlooked is why this brutality persisted so long. The reason is that when these officers maim and kill innocent citizens, they face no consequence despite the hues and cries from the public- so it is not surprising that this unacceptable wickedness gets repeated endlessly. While it is true that the welfare of police officers in Nigeria is nothing to write home about, attributing their harassment of Nigerians to mental derangement, as some have, is completely off the mark as they almost never assault prominent citizens such as governors, senators, representatives and popular celebrities. Their targets are usually poor and helpless Nigerians. I do not know of such ‘selective psychosis’ that is able to differentiate between the have and have not, then choose the latter for all sorts of harassment. What the protesters should expect is that ending police brutality has only just begun and the battle is far from being won. However, through the protests, enough attention has been drawn to the menace. So much, that curbing it has become a possibility through a continuous demand for accountability on the part of those who have supervisory roles over these malevolent officers. Yours sincerely has a passion towards ending police brutality and this will be thoroughly pursued (As an aside, about a month ago, I contacted Scotland Police on how they can assist our movement in Nigeria on ending police brutality and their response was that they could be of no help…).” From Dr Adedeji Adesope, 35 years (an Edinburgh-based professional) “I think the feeling [amongst Nigerians watching from abroad] has been one of disgust at the Nigerian government for the lack of decisive action towards treating some of the prevailing issues that borders on Police malpractices; and the government’s irresponsibility and lack of will to find a lasting solution. Given the horrendous incident of the 22nd of October 2020 that saw a lot of peaceful Nigerian protesters being shot at by the men of the Nigerian Army, it is nothing short of horror for many of us Nigerians abroad and we are quite terrified, sad and angry at the government for abusing the fundamental rights of its people and treating them with so much lack of rest for their human life and dignity. I think the Western media response to what is happening in Nigeria is quite slow and hesitant. Although CNN, BBC and a few other western media started reporting about the protest after videos of the Lekki Massacre of the 22nd of October went viral, I believe not enough has been reported about it. And may I say that I am not surprised at all about that – there seems to be a lot of crisis going on in a lot of countries across Africa (Ghana, Congo, South Africa, Sudan etc) with a lot of human rights violation issues being perpetuated, but you don’t hear so much of it in the media because it doesn’t exactly fit with the mainstream narrative and is not of much direct benefit…..sad! The western government can be of good use through serving as external pressure to compel internal governments in Africa to sit up and find solutions to some of the problems – but again that is not exactly in their interest. African problems can only truly be solved by Africa and its people. I think the media can do more to report about some of the crisis going on in West Africa – a lot of children die everyday in Congo as a result of exploitation of the Coltan resources by big tech corporations, there is violations of human rights of women in South African and Ghana, there is human rights violations in Northern Nigeria. I think the media needs to speak up more about these issues. The media is very much the voice of the people and can be a voice for the voiceless and so they need to rise to the occasion. Just like any other movement, traction can be gained towards achieving the demands of the agitation when a lot of awareness is created which can then mount pressure on the government to act. So, a lot of awareness needs to be created in the media. Government needs to be held accountable. People need to push for petitions against erring officers of the Police unit. Donations should be made to support organisations and coalitions, such as the Feminist Coalition, who are taking up the responsibility to cater to those who are victims of the Police Unit malpractices. I would like to see that justice is done. Everyone who has unfortunately been a victim of the police brutality needs to get justice. I would like for the notorious Police unit to be disbanded; the men of the unit to be taken through thorough reassessment; and for those found guilty to be prosecuted. However, I think this movement is beyond just a clamour for the end of the notorious Police unit, it is an agitation and call for more responsible leadership in Nigeria. So, I see this as a wake-up call for every Nigerian youth to take the challenge and demand for better government and be more active and participatory in deciding their future.” From Emmanuel Oni (an Edinburgh-based professional) To learn more and to keep up to date: Follow @feminist.co @nowhitesaviours @nigeriansociety_uoe @republicjournal Read A day by day timeline of events so far: https://nairametrics.com/2020/10/25/endsars-protest-a-timeline-of-all-the-major-events-from-october-3rd/ The vital role of LGBT youths in the protests: https://i-d.vice.com/en_uk/article/g5pz9q/nigerias-queer-youth-and-the-endsars-protests Why the world must care: https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/oct/16/black-lives-matter-everywhere-support-endsars-nigeria Why Western interference is not the solution: https://thenativemag.com/communities/dangers-western-interference/ Action If you wish to help please be aware that Nigerians have requested for people in the UK to avoid signing petitions calling for the government to make sanctions against the country. There is justifiably a lot of suspicion around Western intervention and they urge that this would only harm the situation. Petition for President Buhari to be charged for crimes against humanity Petition stating that United Nations should remove Hussain Coomassie UN ambassador for peace and social justice Verified crowd-funding initiatives

The first of our 2020 reflection pieces. The global pandemic from nature's perspective by Maddie Noton. The houses are awash with morning sunlight. The reflective glimmers of their windows face the gaze of the blue skyline, and below is a burrow of tiny houses and shops. The brewing buzz of the city hums away like a diligent bumblebee as the approaching sun drowsily arises from its slumber. Perched upon a windowsill, the awakening dawn is observed by a robin. Like always, he prepares to greet the day. A redbreast and golden beak glow under a spotlight of sunshine whilst a pair of black, beady eyes survey potential flight routes through the city. Finally, he chooses a curved seat of black metal on which to rest. Extending his wings, he springs forward and rides the blowing breeze, deep into the heart of the city. He soars, skimming across rooftops of houses; gliding past unopened blinds and dances by an array of doors, waiting to be opened. But when his thin talons meet the cool touch of the metallic material, he notices an eerie and incomprehensible silence. The townspeople - the lively hustle and bustle of their rushing feet and bodies - are absent. The frivolous music of their movement is replaced by a looming quiet, which stretches and smothers itself over the surroundings. The robin turns his sharp sight to the shops, which stand devoid of their usual visitors who wade in and out like clockwork. Despite the sun’s strengthening glare, their interior lights, which often emit an artificial glow, cease to shine. This incongruent darkness unsettles the robin, who now hops off his pedestal to traverse the empty pathway ahead. Bumbling along, he recognises a quaint café, consistently swimming with customers and their hot beverages, which they curl their pale fingers around as the steam dances up from its surface. It perches on the corner of the district – a familiar sight: the door, offering invitation in a welcoming poise; scatterings of pastry crumbs assembled in a beckoning breakfast buffet and the rhythmic sway of feet, which cascade in step to the soft music from within. Fuelled by nostalgic enthusiasm and anticipating a hearty, morning snack, the robin quickens his approach. But something is amiss. Upon arrival, he sees shelves of untouched coffee cups; chairs resting on their front legs against the empty tables and the invitation of entry diminished by a glass door sealed shut. He hears the ghostly whistle of the wind, eclipsing any audible lullaby of music and rustling through the rickety chairs, which chatter in place of the conversations of customers encumbered on their seats. The robin clambers onto a table and puzzles over this odd morning. For as long as he remembers, as the light and warmth of the day routinely chase away the stifling darkness and cover the empty walkways, so too do the crowds of people. Yet now, in their absence, the robin is accompanied solely by intermittent specs of dust, which occupy the undisturbed air and gently jostle against their neighbours. The robin’s watchful gaze searches the street, expectant of the usual crowd of come-and-goers, but not even a mere whisper of the usual activity is present. He chooses to further investigate and sets off in the direction of the local park, where the normal hubbub of the town congregates in jovial masses. The visitors of this particular spot often bear wicker baskets of small pastries and other such goods, and – if feeling generous – they offer small samplings to the robin. Having now anticipated (and yet missed out on) breakfast, the robin is ready for a feast, and so hurriedly skips towards the park. But, instead, he stumbles upon a ghost town. As the grass brushes against his forlorn feathers, he scans the hilly desert. The trees appear unmoved by this strange abandonment, their jackets of green leaves hugging the oak beneath. So too are the flowers still blooming and brandishing their beauty amidst a gentle breeze. Yet their stagnant poise only draws close attention to the lifelessness of the scene, the empty echo of the valley. Suddenly, a person! A tall, fluorescently dressed individual sporting large, circular instruments over her ears, appears in sight. The robin is startled yet pleased with this confirmation of life. Politely, he steps forward to greet her, but she moves at a surprisingly quick pace: long legs bending and pushing off the ground with strange velocity. As the robin nears, he notices tight-fitting lycra, which clings to her skin, and he hears heavy breathing emitting from a red, flushed face. Then, as peculiar as the first, another person appears from the opposing direction. Again, dressed in similar attire and likewise panting like a dog, he approaches at speed, neither stopping for the robin nor even casting a sideward glance. The pair acknowledge one another with a brief nod, but do not speak. It would appear that the individuals create an extraordinary amount of distance between themselves when it is apparent to the robin that the path allows room for multiple passers-by. As fast as they appeared, the two are gone and the park resettles itself in its original isolated ambience. In a perplexing trance, the robin paces the park, the town, the shops, the cafes, the side streets, the main streets and the houses. The sunshine and its blanket of warmth begin to evanesce and retreat, painting the blue, cloudless sky in a piercing shade of orange. The sun itself succumbs to fatigue and sinks like a teardrop over the pastoral landscape. The robin completes his journey in the heart of the town, stopping at the familiar, metallic resting point on which he favours rest. Although he cannot fathom an explanation for the town’s sudden depletion of movement and activity, he assures himself that with the replenishment of day, the regularity of life will be reinstated. Satisfied in this confident conclusion, he marks the end of his day with a sleepy yawn, stretching out his feathery wings before leaping into his flight home. As he gathers height, the city shrinks away with the day’s light. The robin, preoccupied with the contemplation of the strange happenings of the day, does not notice the illumination of lights below his timid body, which beam from the windows of houses, stretching far and wide over the landscape. Instead, he anticipates a revitalising nap. He will return tomorrow to greet the day as usual. Maddie Noton is a second year MA Italian and English Literature student at the University of Edinburgh. This piece was edited by Phoebe McKechnie and Tamara El-Halawani.

With artwork by Lowri Evans, Pranavi Hiremath asked five of her friends from India about their first lockdown experiences. They share some remarkable stories. Here is part two. Nishant studies Bachelor of Laws at the University of Lancaster. I am an Indian student studying at the University of Lancaster. In the last week of my second term (March 2020), India declared a national lockdown and I was stranded in the UK. Luckily, I have my elder brother studying in Edinburgh at the University of Edinburgh. After finishing the last week of my second term, I packed my entire belongings and stored most of my luggage in a storage facility at Lancaster. I took a train to Edinburgh to stay with my brother. At that time, even the UK had declared a lockdown and so the whole train was almost empty. An empty train felt very weird, but it was a good thing for me as I could maintain distance from other people and take two seats for myself. My brother stays in an apartment with three other friends. In the beginning week of my stay in Edinburgh, we were allowed to play in the Meadows. We used to play football with a few more of my brother's friends. But then the UK government imposed a stricter lockdown to control the spread of the virus and the Meadows were closed. So, my brother, his friends and I occupied ourselves with other fun activities in the apartment. We played poker with fake money at night and most of the time I had luck towards my side. We sometimes cooked pasta from scratch or chicken gravy for everyone. We used to go bulk shopping together in a friend's car and store food for at least a month. My online classes started after a month's break. I had to watch pre-recorded videos and then attend my seminars. But most of my time used went in watching Netflix. I had my exams in a few weeks. During that time even my brother and his friends got busy with their exams, so I started going for morning jogs to Blackford Hill. In no time, two and a half months passed by. It was then that the Indian government started the “Vande Bharat Mission”, to help Indians stranded outside of India, to travel back to India. My brother and I registered for travel. We asked for help wherever we could. We contacted our Uncle who stays in Edinburgh to recommend our names to the Embassy. From India, our parents were contacting the government to bring us back home. As soon as the mission started, a week later we were given tickets to fly back home and we didn’t miss it. Once we reached Chennai, India, we were quarantined for seven days in a government-recommended hotel. On the first day, they took a swab test and declared us negative the same day. On the seventh day, we had to give another swab test, which again tested negative. For those seven days, we did not leave our rooms. We were provided with food on our doorstep. For all the seven days my routine was fixed: eat, sleep, watch Netflix, and eat again. The first two or three days were fun, later it got mundane. Once we got out of the hotel, our parents had booked a taxi for us to go back home. Our home was at least 500 kilometres away and on the way, we had to stop at six police checkpoints, to provide our purpose of travel. After all of that, we finally reached home. Chandiya studies Engineering at the University of Edinburgh. The lockdown placed on 16th of March probably had the most impact on my life. I couldn’t even experience 5% of my University life that semester. It was my first year to have been away from my parents. I returned to India only in June when COVID-19 cases were rising in India, which I did not mind because of the food and the poor quality of living I was given in the UK. I stayed at catered accommodation, which should have been a better situation for the lockdown, but that wasn’t the case. Since it was catered, I did not have access to a kitchen which was a great disadvantage because the only food I was receiving was a sandwich and a snack for breakfast and dinner. With no lunch provided, it meant that I had to starve for a meal every day. As days passed, I started to get ready-made foods by ordering through Tesco’s delivery services but again the food started to cause me problems since I was eating too many instant foods and that was not healthy. The four months in lockdown put me and my family through things we never thought we’d have to face. Long story short, it was a bad time. Long story short, I survived. Jayawanti studies at the University of Edinburgh. On the 12th of March, there was widespread information all over my country on the closing of colleges due to the spread of the life-threatening coronavirus that put the world to a standstill for months to come. My worried parents had asked me to come back home for my safety. I, being a student of this esteemed University, decided to continue my classes and insisted to my parents that the University take all the measures to ensure the safety of its students. The very next day there was an announcement from the Vice-principal, that the final exams were to be cancelled and that international students were allowed to travel back home. By now the government of India had released a statement saying “All the flights from the UK will be cancelled from the 18th of March onwards’. I was in an oblivious state of mind as I had less than a day not only to pull myself together but to also pack up my entire stuff and travel to Glasgow in a cab as no flights were leaving from Edinburgh to India. Finally, I boarded the flight from Glasgow to Chennai via Dubai. When I reached Dubai, I had to wait for 8 hours for my connecting flight back home. This unusual situation made me fear being stuck in an airport, something that I had never felt before. There were flights before mine which were meant to leave for India but they were cancelled. I considered myself extremely fortunate because my flight wasn’t cancelled. I was able to reach home safely and was asked to self-quarantine for 28 days with a notice stuck in front of my house. This was an experience like no other and I am eternally grateful to everyone that took utmost care in bringing me back home safely. This piece was edited by Pranavi Hiremath and Tamara El-Halawani.

With artwork by Lowri Evans, Pranavi Hiremath asked five of her friends from India about their first lockdown experiences. They share some remarkable stories. Here is part one. Manab Mohanty studies Computer Science at the University of Edinburgh This year has been a ride for everyone, hasn't it? Many people will walk out with a story to tell, many will not be able to walk out at all. I was one of the early ones to contract the virus and the fact that I was able to live through it, came as a pleasant surprise to all the people I know back in my county in India. I remember back when I was 16, an astrologer was contacted because my father truly felt helpless about me. My exams in 10th grade were given way too much importance in life and now I find it funny that someone who reads stars and the lines on your palms was recruited to reassure my father that I’m going to be alright. He’d said one thing which I remember to this day, “When this guy hits 20, life is going to change forever for him. It’s up to him whether he walks out as a stronger successful person, or just starts to spiral out of control.” Yes, very dramatic. The funniest part is, this happened. I remembered all this to double-check what happens in 4-5 years. I got covid back when it was informally called ‘the coronavirus’ and it was just before I turned 20. Like everyone, I had booked flights in a hurry. My flight was 11 hours later from when I booked it, so obviously, my stuff had to see the worst of me. They were packed in a swift and nonsensical fashion, which I regretted when I came back again to open it up. I flew through Amsterdam- New Delhi- Bhubaneswar, a total of 30+ hours and I was so tired that I must have lost some weight. When I reached home, usually I would touch my father’s feet but this year none of that happened. This right here was the hardest thing which people are still going through. The world has changed and suddenly hugs and kisses are now weapons and not visiting family and friends is an act of love. Humans have been put into cages. We are animals now, spiralling out of control, but life goes on. I was checked at the airports obviously and I did not show any symptoms, so I could go back home. I started getting a fever and so the next day, my father took me to the hospital where I was tested. He insisted I get tested even if I did not have symptoms, just to be safe. The world has changed and suddenly hugs and kisses are now weapons and not visiting family and friends is an act of love. Humans have been put into cages. We are animals now, spiralling out of control, but life goes on. The worst thing was, there was only one guy before me who had been tested positive in my city and he was all over the news. My father also happens to be the superintendent of the hospital I was tested at. This was to my disadvantage if I tested positive as I would get into a lot of conflicts. And that is exactly what happened. Some people made up this story of how I was already in town for 10 days before I got tested and I was going around spreading the virus- even though I reached home on the 18th of March and got tested on the 19th. My family and I were all over the news and not in a great light. There was a lot of victim-shaming. That is what covid does; it makes you the bad guy. After even making it to the national news as someone who deliberately was spreading covid- escaping the law (otherwise how will the media get a story out of it) and after getting a lot of heat from people on my social media and threats to hang me and my family- I thought I will never get out of this. During all of this, while I was put into a hospital room for 14 days where no one would even come close to me, I did not feel human. The worst thing was, there was only one guy before me who had been tested positive in my city and he was all over the news...Some people made up this story of how I was already in town for 10 days before I got tested and I was going around spreading the virus...There was a lot of victim shaming. I came back home just two days before my birthday. I was so embarrassed and scared to be in my own home. The entire aspect of Covid disappeared into the background and everyone just saw me as a criminal. After having explained everything on my social media and to the government, with my boarding pass and other things I could put forth- the people who wanted to see the truth understood what had happened - the rest did not. Keeping aside all that, I had one of the best birthdays of my life. Never did I want to meet my family so desperately- the 14 days in the hospital felt longer than the year I spent at University. It was all so poetic and film-like. I eventually had trouble sleeping and had some problems like anxiety and PTSD, took medication for a while but eventually, everything seemed to get better. It always feels like it is never going to get better, but it always does. Time heals everything, doesn’t it? I eventually had trouble sleeping and had some problems like anxiety and PTSD, took medication for a while but eventually, everything seemed to get better. This would have never happened had it not been for the pandemic. The year I’ve had is something I would never wish upon others, but I’ve always been very optimistic and I genuinely feel much more strength now than I did at the beginning of the year and that’s the point of life. Whatever happens, might not be easy, but is important. Lasya Priyanjani Galla: BA Fashion Design at the University of Leeds. It was a normal weekend when I suddenly got an email saying that my University was temporarily closing and the whole country was going under a strict lockdown due to COVID-19. As an international student, I could only travel back home three months later. After going through so much trouble, I was alone in Leeds and India had cancelled all flights. There was so much stress about buying groceries and stocking up before the spread of the virus got too severe and it was unbelievable that life came to such a sudden pause, especially during the most important years of my life. Although I was a person who was isolated from her classmates, a part of me was pretty relieved when the lockdown began. The first days were a time of high motivation and effort on keeping up with the trend of learning a new skill. I would sketch, design, practice embroidery, and do lots of other things. These days also included movie marathons, long calls, and lots of eating. As I already said, I was very comfortable staying in my room and worrying about nothing. But nobody can keep passing days without a motive for tomorrow. I could have been a carefree person and enjoyed the beautiful springtime, being safe like a lot of my friends did, but I didn’t. I instead, unintentionally, began to reassess my personality and of course, at my age, such reassessments lead to overthinking. For me, overthinking or reassessing did not mean “rising from the ashes like a phoenix”, but it was just a realisation that broke me down and made me scared of entering my classrooms again or worse, entering the world and facing it. The days that came, once the days of high motivation dissolved, included all the overthinking. They just continued and they still seem to persist. The days that came, once the days of high motivation dissolved, included all the overthinking. They just continued and they still seem to persist. My lockdown experience wasn’t an Instagram fairy tale but was rather the opposite. Once India set up emergency flights for Indians away from their home, to get on to the list of one of the flights that was close to my city was another stressful thing to do. After a long two-week process of requesting contacts to help me out, I finally got on the flight and was able to travel back to India. But again, there were so many further complications while travelling, being quarantined at a hotel and getting tested once I was in India. It was a psychologically distressing time, awaiting the results of the virus tests and financially as well because of the high expense of being quarantined in a hygienic place. But I got through all of that and was able to go home safe, after a week of being quarantined. When I came back home, I was full of fear, regret, and a strong desire to change myself. Since then, every step I have taken, with the help of my parents, was towards a more confident me. I am still at home and still overthinking but for the first time in so long, I finally feel that maybe I can actually do it. I have to see the beauty and strength of what I already can do and develop in that. Now that I have some positivity blooming in my life when I am at the most comfortable place I can be, home, it feels like I needed this. This whole time was necessary for me to come out as a better person and fearlessly face the world. Pranavi Hiremath studies Astrophysics at the University of Edinburgh. The year took an unusual turn that left me alone in a country far from my own. Stuck in a room under unpredictable circumstances, as it felt that way during the initial emergence of the virus in the UK. The flights were cancelled as swiftly as the lockdown was announced. I had only two days if I wanted to catch a flight home, which meant packing everything I had and finding a place to keep them until I came back. But travelling wasn’t the best option for me because it meant exposing myself to the virus and its consequential uncertainty at the time. So, I decided to stay. The first week consisted of long calls with my parents - they were also trying to contact everyone they knew in the UK for advice. They were worried about what the future would hold and how long I would have to stay in a room since even India went into lockdown and organising repatriation flights was still in debate. My whole flat was empty. All my flatmates, fortunately, were able to get back home safely. They were kind enough to let me use any groceries they had bought. Which saved me from going to the store to stock up. The week was tough considering I was alone and was stuck in, what felt like unforeseeable circumstances. But it was only for that week since I was then invited to stay with a lovely family in Eyemouth. Mr and Mrs Pawley and their two dogs. They saved me from my four walls, and I was taken to a home. From a dreadful three months I would have had, then to be taken to the most beautiful town with a beach, a river, and a forest, living with the kindest and generous people. And the best part of it all, I have to say was the dogs! They saved me from my four walls, and I was taken to a home. It was three months of eating food I never had before: homemade scones, tarts, quiche, apple pie and so much more. Watching so many movies. Learning so many new things from them not only about the town, about the UK and their experience in India not only gave me an insight into a culture that wasn’t mine but also a deeper insight into the culture I grew up in. Learning about their lives and listening to their wonderful experiences and stories made me happy. During the times when we were allowed to go on walks, we took long walks in the forest, to the river, along the shore, up the hills to the most beautiful views. In three months they became family. I am so thankful to them for their care and for letting me be a part of their life. Also for tolerating me for all the times I woke up late (which was pretty much every day), me being messy and clumsy. I am so thankful to them for their care and for letting me be a part of their life...I consider myself extremely lucky. All-in-all despite the fear and unpredictability that the pandemic induced for me and considering how much worse others had to go through all over the world, I consider myself extremely lucky. I am filled with gratitude to have had an experience that I will carry with me for my entire life, which I wouldn’t have had if it weren’t for the pandemic. This piece was edited by Pranavi Hiremath and Tamara El-Halawani.

Kate Charlton and Antony Haslam explore the Fresher experience at Edinburgh University and the surrounding public rhetoric concerning students during the pandemic. “You clowns were to blame for the outbreak in university halls. Even after the outbreak you carried on partying. Pathetic.” COVID’s second wave, which tore through the country in the Autumn, has been marked by frustration and anxiety from the general public - not only at the state of escalation but also at the government for their ineffectual handling of the situation. This anger from the public has not only been projected onto appropriate authorities but has also found its way onto the heads of our student population, with media and online outlets pointing the finger at students returning to universities in September as causing the rise in cases. In a time that is just as uncertain for students as it has been the wider population, it is our view that students have found themselves on the receiving end of, particularly harsh and undue criticism. Seeing the backlash one Edinburgh University fresher received under an Edinburgh Live Facebook post, we thought it was necessary to look further into why students have been blamed, and more importantly, gain their direct perspective. We don’t deny that the movement of vast numbers of students across the country, into the close quarters of student accommodation, contributed to a rise in cases nationwide. However, it is the rhetoric surrounding who’s to blame for the wave, that we take issue with; the rhetoric that seems to scapegoat students, shirking blame from the universities and government who encouraged the movement of students to their university cities. We reached out to the first-year who received the harsh comments under the Edinburgh Live Facebook post after she posted a TikTok criticising the way freshers have been treated. She was branded as showcasing “absolutely disgraceful behaviour” with “only [herself] to blame”, making the general sentiment clear that students are the culprits, rather than victims, of the pandemic. When we asked Tizzie how she felt after reading those comments, she stated that she was “extremely disappointed” by them, that they played into the narrative of scapegoating students as it’s the “easy” thing to do. She was branded as showcasing “absolutely disgraceful behaviour” with “only [herself] to blame”, making the general sentiment clear that students are the culprits, rather than victims, of the pandemic. What’s interesting about the responses beneath the article, is the fact that students are often viewed as a voiceless demographic, they are expected to be seen and not heard. As soon as they speak up and dare to criticise authority, they are met with contempt and are not treated by the public as equals with the right to speak up (like @woodstevie’s Tweet, referring to the EL article: “For fuck’s sake you bunch of snowflakes, the reason we are in this mess is because people can't take 3 months out of their life to try and combat this virus... Selfish attitudes”). Students, as Tizzie argued, are often the ‘easy’ demographic to blame, a third-party option to avoid direct criticism of the government or university; “both [government and the university] are in the wrong, you can’t blame one or the other, so it’s easy to find a middle ground and blame the students, it was inevitable students were going to be blamed”. Tizzie came across as somewhat defeated, as though she and many students feel resigned to accept that this is how they’ll be treated and there’s nothing that can be done to change it. This encouraged us to gather a selection of first-year students from different Edinburgh University halls, who we asked the same questions, to gauge opinions on university social life, teaching and provision of mental health support. @woodstevie’s Tweet, referring to the EL article: “For fuck’s sake you bunch of snowflakes, the reason we are in this mess is because people can't take 3 months out of their life to try and combat this virus... Selfish attitudes” In what has undoubtedly been a challenging year for everyone’s mental health, students have perhaps been uniquely vulnerable to issues of isolation, anxiety and depression. This is true of all students who are confronting these issues away from home, regardless of their year of study. However, it’s freshers who are potentially experiencing this separation for the first time. This has, quite rightly, been documented in the mainstream media, but it feels to us that this discussion is likely too little, too late. This is tragically true for Finn Kitson, the 19-year-old first-year student at Manchester, who was found dead at his Fallowfield accommodation in October. His father, Micheal Kitson, was quick to point out on Twitter that “if you lockdown young people because of COVID-19 with little support, then you should expect that they suffer severe anxiety”. It is clear that Finn’s father is in no doubt about the role Fallowfield’s student lockdown played in his son’s death, yet this is just one tragic outcome of inadequate student support. “if you lockdown young people because of COVID-19 with little support, then you should expect that they suffer severe anxiety”. The freshers that we spoke to in Edinburgh were, across the board, highly critical of the University’s provision of support this semester. One student living in Pollock stated that “we’ve been left to do everything alone, there has been absolutely nothing [support wise] … you don’t see anyone [wardens, support staff etc]; it’s only security and police walking around”. This kind of intimidating presence of authority, in place of something welcoming, undeniably causes anxiety for students who are, potentially, living away from home for the first time. At a time when students are already isolated from help, seeing security and police patrolling their accommodation has left freshers feeling like prisoners, in what is supposed to be their term-time home. One comment under the EL article went so far as to suggest that students deserve to be treated like this, “they really should be locked there for years till they learn something 😁”. Student frustration at being treated like inmates in the accommodation they’re paying for was never more apparent than in the student protests that followed the fencing-off of parts of Fallowfield accommodation in Manchester, which saw students holding signs saying: “HMP Fallowfield: £9K To Enter”. “HMP Fallowfield: £9K To Enter”. Our discussions with freshers in Edinburgh, alongside the protests at Manchester, suggest that this sentiment is widespread; students feel trapped and isolated, having obvious effects on mental health. This becomes yet more of an issue when paired with up to a three-week wait to see a university counsellor in Edinburgh. One student pointed out that, “because we’ve had so little support from the uni, we’ve become better at supporting ourselves and looking out for each other”. A small consolation for freshers that have otherwise been left out to dry. We wanted to explore what led to this feeling, asking what the first-years thought more generally about the University’s handling of the movement of students into Edinburgh in September. One student pointed out that, “because we’ve had so little support from the uni, we’ve become better at supporting ourselves and looking out for each other”. When pushed on whether they thought the University had handled the movement of students to Edinburgh well (and what could have been done better), a theme started to emerge. The recurring answer argued that the University placed great emphasis on so-called ‘hybrid learning’. This was the case for many students, ourselves included, with the University suggesting that we would be expected to be present on campus for a ‘blend’ of in-person and online teaching. The students we spoke to collectively agreed that the University had encouraged them to travel to the city for studies, therefore paying rent on their accommodations. The cynic may argue that this was essentially tricking students into moving to Edinburgh, despite the inevitable second wave. One student commented that she felt like “the university pranked [them] with the promise of hybrid learning, but as soon as [they] got here everything was online.” and that they “feel used for money”. Another commented that “the university made such an effort to persuade us that we would get the full experience, that they had prepared everything for us, but in reality, they just wanted our rent money”. This supports our argument that the University is, in fact, more responsible than they would like to admit for Autumn’s rise in COVID cases. They encouraged the movement of students across the country, but when there came an inevitable rise in cases, their role was conveniently forgotten and students and their socialising shouldered the blame. One student commented that she felt like “the university pranked [them] with the promise of hybrid learning, but as soon as [they] got here everything was online.” Once students had arrived in Edinburgh, it wasn’t just the unexpected lack of face-to-face teaching that caused unease, but also the challenge of socialising. Moving to university and making new friends, at its best already a nerve-wracking and unfamiliar experience, was made extra challenging by the pandemic. The students we spoke to were asked to reflect on how their university social lives had been affected. Aside from the social distancing measures that have affected all our social lives, they outlined other difficulties faced in their particular situation as first-years, living in halls. A range of opinions was offered, with one student arguing that they’d had a lot of fun, but that it may have been because they were “lucky” with who, and how many, they had in their social bubbles. One response that repeatedly cropped up was that students who knew people before coming to university had a massive advantage in being able to socialise and that students tended to stick with who they already knew, as it wasn’t easy making friends outside of their flat. They commented, “the real advantage that those who came from huge boarding schools have is coming knowing loads of people, that’s the only real advantage … it certainly makes it easier.” The wide range in responses concerning the different experiences of freshers’ this year invited us to delve deeper into how, and why, such a variation occurred. There was a benefit for people who knew each other before university, and it’s undeniable that Pollock has been known to be cliquey amongst private school students, who were friendly before coming to Edinburgh. One interesting factor, which has been overlooked, is that the accommodation that students were allocated resulted in differing chances of socialising, due to the number of people in their flat. Salisbury Court, for example, consists of flats of between eight and ten students, which allows those living there to form social bubbles of up to eight, while still complying with Scottish guidelines. On the other hand, Robertson’s Close (a significantly cheaper accommodation) consists of flats of four. One student that we spoke to who lives there, told us how they aren’t allowed to form a bubble with another flat, even though that would give them an equal footing with other students in bigger flats in Salisbury and Pollock. When asked whether there was unfairness to how accommodations affected students, responses we got included; “100%, smaller flats in different accommodations [than Pollock] without larger social areas will have found it harder” from one student, and “I live in a three-person flat, so that has limited who I meet”, from another. In Pollock, the JMCC would usually be a social hub, but this year its arrangement saw students sitting alone, spaced apart at individual desks. Although, as one student points out, “at restaurants and bars you’re allowed tables of 6, yet in the JMCC it’s the whole exam hall set-up; we can’t even face each other”. Pollock’s strict meal-time regime seems far removed from the experience in self-catered flats, which aren’t subject to the same policing. One student admitted that the format of the JMCC makes him less likely to eat there; instead preferring to eat a ready-meal or order a takeaway, allowing him to be with his friends. There is a level of irony here in that the regulation of the JMCC, which is intended to stop social mixing, maybe promoting eating in groups in students’ rooms. The student went on to point out that he realises that this is not particularly healthy, nor economical, but that for other students who feel too nervous to eat alone, they may have little choice. A couple of students who we spoke to raised the point that coming from a wealthier background improved their opportunity to socialise. One student commented that, in her experience, “the fear of fines controls your social life. I have had to turn down a lot of social events just because I didn’t want to get fined and couldn’t afford it. People who can afford that, however, can attend and meet people.” Although we aren’t condoning going against the guidelines, it’s clear how unfair it is that some students have to sit back and watch their peers be able to break the rules and enjoy themselves without fear of repercussion, without being afforded that same option. One student commented that, in her experience, “the fear of fines controls your social life. I have had to turn down a lot of social events just because I didn’t want to get fined and couldn’t afford it. People who can afford that, however, can attend and meet people.” The restrictions on socialising and gathering in halls saw several students opting to rent Airbnbs in Edinburgh to avoid the worst periods of 'lockdown'. This was seen particularly in October, with entire houses in Pollock facing restrictions. Many of those who could afford the costly move, something far out of the reach of most students, were able to dodge the worst of the isolation and continue to socialise; “The renting of AirBnbs has allowed wealthier students to socialise and avoid the constraints of Uni accommodation. This meant less wealthy students were left alone, and even more isolated in student accommodation.” These students shouldn’t be blamed for wanting to get away from halls, given the nature of their experience in the first semester, and we aren’t criticising them for this. Rather, we are attempting to provide an alternate view on student behaviours in response to their treatment by the University. Instead of blaming these students for their choices and feeding into the rhetoric of scapegoating the entire student body, this needs to be viewed in its context. Their choices need to be considered against the backdrop of having been failed by the government, as well as let down by their University, resigning students to taking matters into their own hands. We hope that any first-years reading this article have found solace in the experiences that we have described. If you are a fresher who has at all felt isolated, or maybe felt as though you are alone in your experiences, then hopefully reading what other first-years have said has provided you with some comfort in knowing that you aren’t alone in any struggles you are facing. Finally, we want to emphasise that whatever emotions you feel towards the University or your situation, are completely valid; you have every right to be angry and disappointed at the unfair hand you’ve been dealt. These are the feelings that have fuelled the wave of student activism currently sweeping across the UK, breeding real changes for students: rent rebates, no-detriment policies and petitions to see fees cut. Further Resources: Mental Health 1. The University’s online counselling service (via Teams): https://www.ed.ac.uk/student-counselling 2. 24/7 online community support for student mental health: https://togetherall.com/en-gb/ Click on ‘register’ → ‘I’m from a university or college’ → enter uni name + submit 3. Feeling Good App: https://www.nhs.uk/apps-library/feeling-good-positive-mindset/ Provides students with a free programme aiming to alleviate stress and anxiety through a set of curated exercises My in-app login username = edinuni1. My in-app password = positive Student Coronavirus Guidance Scottish Government website: https://www.studentinformation.gov.scot/coronavirus Student Activism No-detriment policy petition for Edinburgh: https://www.change.org/p/university-of-edinburgh-reinstate-the-no-detriment-policy-for-final-year-students-at-the-university-of-edinburgh?redirect=false Kate Charlton and Antony Haslam are students at the University of Edinburgh. This article was written before the current lockdown restrictions.

Lucien Staddon Foster provides an incredibly important reflection regarding the horrific racial traumas that Black people have had to face over the last six months since George Floyd's murder. It provides a strong reminder of what not to forget and what needs to be done to stand in solidarity with the BLM movement. As I write this, it has been exactly six months since Derek Chauvin, aided by Alexander Kueng, Thomas Lane and Tou Thao, knelt on George Floyd's neck for eight minutes and forty-six seconds. Ultimately, taking his life over a dispute regarding the validity of a $20 bill. In response, we saw public outcry on an extremely unprecedented scale, with protests occurring in over 60 countries across all continents, making this summer of protest one of the largest demonstrative movements in history. But where are we now? Like so many other important issues this year, the spotlight has slowly drifted away; spurred by our constantly wavering attention spans and active dismissal from mainstream media outlets. Justice never seemed to reach George Floyd’s killers, their trials don’t even start until March and conviction is always unlikely in these cases. Even Breonna Taylor’s murder was reduced to nothing but a debate topic, despite the public pressure from the huge numbers that came out to seek justice, both on the street and in petitions gathering over 11 million signatures. We saw her name become an empty phrase thrown around by those who really couldn't care less about what she, as a brilliant daughter, friend and employee, had taken away from her and the huge loss to her community. We saw her name become an empty phrase thrown around by those who really couldn't care less about what she, as a brilliant daughter, friend and employee, had taken away from her and the huge loss to her community. The solidarity displayed over the summer, with protests on the street and our feeds packed with pro-Black content and anti-racist infographics, has gradually drained from the mainstream, leaving me, and many other Black people, feeling arguably more alone in our struggles than ever. Whilst I have had increased success in talking to white peers about issues of race, something I never felt comfortable or able to before the summer’s heightened focus on racial inequalities. However, this local and circumstantial change is meaningless when the neighbour’s walls got more justice than Breonna Taylor herself (1). Most morbidly, the supposed engagement with racial justice from my white peers has appeared to all but vanish in some cases. I've sat by as the president-elect, Joe Biden, is paraded as a hero, a saviour of their normalcy, with little regard to the insult or damage he has caused to Black communities. We're told to shut our mouths and play along, as though our criticisms can only be a direct endorsement of Trump and his hateful presidency. We’re expected to celebrate a man who's challenged our Blackness (2), called Black men "predators" (3), caused the mass incarceration of thousands under his 1994 Crime Bill, and ultimately promised donors that "nothing will fundamentally change" between his presidency and Trump's (4). Given how listened to I felt in the summer amongst widespread anti-racist discussion, although outrageously performative at times (see Blackout Tuesday and the BLM tagging challenge), it's so incredibly disheartening to see this momentum stall while we continue to suffer and die ourselves. This year alone, there have only been 16 days where the police did not kill someone in the US, 237 (or 28%) of these victims have been Black, despite only accounting 13% of the population (5). But what action is actually coming from all the woke talk of the summer? We're told to shut our mouths and play along, as though our criticisms can only be a direct endorsement of Trump and his hateful presidency. When calling out these issues, I'm regularly told to stop being divisive and work towards bridging the gap in our polarized society, to practise compassion and healing with those who barely regard Black people as human, let alone believe in their struggles. How am I expected to find commonality with those who both morally and financially supported Kyle Rittenhouse? Who received brand deals and a publicly crowdsourced bail release following his triple-homicide at a protest. How out of touch must our leaders, and many of their followers, be to suggest that overcoming these differences is even possible? Even in the UK, opposition leader, Keir Starmer, has dismissed the Black Lives Matter movement, calling some of their aims “nonsense” and simply saying it’s dominated by “radical Marxist agenda” without actually addressing the problems behind the demands (6). On both sides of the Atlantic, it has become obvious that our leaders and those meant to hold them accountable continue to disregard Black struggle. How am I expected to find commonality with those who both morally and financially supported Kyle Rittenhouse? Who received brand deals and a publicly crowdsourced bail release following his triple-homicide at a protest. How out of touch must our leaders, and many of their followers, be to suggest that overcoming these differences is even possible? The injustices of the summer are not exclusive to diasporic Black populations either. Recently, we’ve seen just how widespread crises of police brutality and inequality are with the End-SARS movement concerning Nigerian injustices and the Lekki Massacre, on which the EDI magazine has already run a piece (7). All across the African continent, militarized police forces, often supported by our governments (8), harass, oppress and kill their citizens. However, public concern has appeared to fade again, as pleas for justice and an end to brutality become just another social media fad. It’s understandable that many only want to focus on issues widely regarded as close to home (such as US and European injustices), but for many of us, these issues are incredibly close to home and the decline in attention and discussion leaves us feeling demoralised and alone in our struggle. As Black students, many of us have had family and friends affected or displaced by this violence across the African continent; for me, it’s my mother, who has had to move cities in Nigeria due to the instability and lack of safety from police-protest clashes. Additionally, the university offers little support to those of us who are affected immensely by these issues; we're expected to work business-as-usual despite the stress, hurt and frustration brought about by injustice and violence against our people. However, the university’s student support and its shortcomings are part of a much wider issue that I won’t touch on any further in this article. Whilst there have been many further injustices and a decline in the momentum of protests over the last six months, perhaps I have been overly negative, as there have also been significant developments and achievements. Since May, many more people are aware of and educated on systemic inequalities and are actively trying to better themselves concerning their privileges. We've seen policymakers put under pressure to address these issues, and devise strategies to correct our path towards one of equality. We even saw the first Black female vice-president, Kamala Harris, elected in the US, although this has its own complexities that I won't get into now, either. Here in Edinburgh, we've seen the launch of BlackED, a group dedicated to providing for the unique needs of Black students and establish a better sense of community and anti-racist culture at the university. Their efforts even made the front page of The Times (9), with their campaign towards the renaming of the eugenicist-celebrating David Hume Tower (now 40 George Square) getting national coverage, and of course, a significant backlash from racists and the Conservative Party (Tomato or tomato?). Here in Edinburgh, we've seen the launch of BlackED, a group dedicated to providing for the unique needs of Black students and establish a better sense of community and anti-racist culture at the university. There's a long way to go before anything resembling equality can be reached, but following a summer of heated debate and protest, a large step has been taken and eyes all around the world have been opened. Even though public attention has drifted, the lessons learned from this summer are unlikely to be forgotten, and the legacy of George Floyd, and too many others, will continue to drive the movement for a better world. Keep listening, keep learning and speak out on injustices where you see them - we can't let our progress go to waste. Guide for further resources: Follow @blcked_movement on Instagram - they’re a great place for information and support surrounding some of the aforementioned issues. Read ‘Beyond Breonna: Louisville Police Make the Case for Abolition’ https://theintercept.com/2020/11/27/defund-police-louisville-breonna-taylor/ Watch ‘The Black Voters Who Could Swing Pennsylvania’ to better understand some of the criticism surrounding Biden: https://theintercept.com/2020/10/29/philadelphia-black-voters/ References: (1) - Brett Hankison, one of the officers involved with the illegal raid on Taylor's apartment, was charged with 'wanton endangerment'. This was the only charge to come out of her death. (2) - Biden: 'If you have a problem figuring out whether you're for me or Trump, then you ain't black' https://edition.cnn.com/2020/05/22/politics/biden-charlamagne-tha-god-you-aint-black/index.html (3) - Biden in 1993 speech pushing crime bill warned of 'predators on our streets' who were 'beyond the pale' https://edition.cnn.com/2019/03/07/politics/biden-1993-speech-predators/index.html (4) - Joe Biden to rich donors: "Nothing would fundamentally change" if he's elected https://www.salon.com/2019/06/19/joe-biden-to-rich-donors-nothing-would-fundamentally-change-if-hes-elected/ (5) - mappingpoliceviolence.org by Samuel Sinyangwe (6) - Black Lives Matter UK criticises Labour Leader Keir Starmer for dismissing calls to defund the police https://www.standard.co.uk/news/politics/keir-starmer-defund-police-black-lives-matter-backlash-a4483981.html (7) - #EndSARS: The Edinburgh Voices https://www.theedimagazine.com/post/endsars-the-edinburgh-voices (8) - End SARS protests: UK police trained 'brutal' Nigerian security forces https://www.independent.co.uk/news/end-sars-nigeria-protests-security-forces-uk-police-training-b1254970.html (9) - Edinburgh University ditches David Hume over slavery link https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/edinburgh-university-ditches-david-hume-over-slavery-link-kz9dl2p3v Lucien Staddon Foster is a Third Year Geography student at the University of Edinburgh

Pranavi Hiremath examines the human evolutionary view of gender roles and identity, whether this is integral to our survival and if other species adopt such roles too. Above: 'Vacancy II', 11 3/4 x 16 1/2, 2019. The image is part of a series of collages produced through play with light and shadow on film. In this silhouette still, the composition is balanced with various found and cut paper media that bring colour into the black and white film still. In direct relation to the article, the deformation of the shadow against the wall may represent the culturally constructed gender norms and roles which come to deform our true self. Gender roles have been ingrained into our society for generations. We became slaves to this social construct from the time our parents took us to the toy store. The girls went to the pink aisle with barbies, dollhouses, kitchen sets while the boys went to the blue aisles with superheroes and cars. We also became supporters of these ideas by adhering to them and often rejecting anyone who didn't. Only recently have we been able to open our minds and recognise the flaws in this social construct of gender roles. It is important to state the differences between the often-confused terms sex and gender or gender role. Sex depends on biology to differentiate between males and females (e.g. sex organs), while gender or gender role is described as a socially constructed and accepted behaviour of a male or a female. Humans or homo-sapiens are animals too and we have well-defined gender roles in our species, and it has helped us develop our civilisation. So, does this mean it is a vital component necessary to survive? Does this imply all other animals on this planet also have such roles? Research shows that the answer would be not really. Gender roles are thought to be a product of culture. Culture in this context means the transfer of information from one generation to the next. A young boy and a girl aren’t brought up with the same values. A different set of values are taught to each sex. They are assigned a gender at an early age; boys are taught to earn for the family and not cry while the girls are taught to be caregivers and sensitive. This is also often why people associate higher positions like CEOs with men over women because women are thought to be emotionally-driven, while men are thought to be rational. This isn’t the case with animals, like killer whales, where females don’t learn special behaviours but all whales simply learn from each other, like strategies to kill prey. They don’t necessarily have a sex-specific cultural training that humans do. But unfortunately, it isn’t that straightforward. Sex and gender are intertwined together and it is an on-going debate whether gender roles are biologically determined or are a product of social construct. It becomes an even more complex study once the variations in sex and gender identity are included. Human females may be considered to have more nurturing attributes as a product of childbearing. The role of carrying and caring for an infant and the father providing resources are said to be the root and evolutionary consequences of the gender roles we see today. It is presumed that sex might have been just the simplest way responsibilities could have been divided (division of labour) because the females had to stay back and look after their offspring and couldn’t go hunt at the same time. Although it is important to note that the extent to which gender is determined by biology is unclear. Since, anthropologists have found from analysing skeletal remains that even women were hunters, gatherers and they fought in battles. From about 1700 through 1900 women also served as soldiers. It is also important to account for the variations and the spectrum of sexual identity. Gender roles and conformity to them get in the way of humans expressing their identity. In this study, it was shown that in an anti-homosexual society with rigid gender roles, a part of being a homosexual included believing that only heterosexual relationships are appropriate. Thus, it is important to include and understand that sometimes a person’s genetically assigned sex doesn’t line up with their identity: transgenders, non-binary or gender non-conforming. Our society today goes as far as to stereotype individuals based on their sex and almost force them to adhere to the “acceptable behaviours”. These ideas have led to discrimination, inequality and sexism. There might be both socially and biologically determined factors affecting the behaviour of females and males. Culture plays a significant role. Humans have many different cultures, and gender roles are not always the same in each culture. But each human does go through cultural training and are expected to behave in a certain manner. It is our responsibility to understand, respect each individual and their self-identity. Oppression for one means oppression for all. If women are forced into certain gender roles, men are thereby forced to fill the vacant space. Eradicating rigid gender roles and the associated inequality is vital as it prevents violence, promotes self expression and as a whole our community becomes safer and healthier. Gender equality is good for the economy as well, it is a step towards ending poverty and witnessing the full capacity of a country. Therefore, our society is capable of becoming more peaceful and successful once gender roles are eradicated. More on what you can do: 6 Everyday Ways to Bust Gender Stereotypes: https://www.girlscouts.org/en/raising-girls/leadership/life-skills/everyday-ways-to-bust-gender-stereotypes.html 10 ways to eliminate gender bias in the workplace: https://www.sagepeople.com/about-us/news-hub/eliminate-gender-diversity-workforce/ 12 steps to achieve gender equality in our lifetimes: https://www.theguardian.com/global-development-professionals-network/2016/mar/14/gender-equality-women-girls-rights-education-empowerment-politics Further Reading: Is gender identity unique to humans? https://www.discovermagazine.com/planet-earth/is-gender-identity-unique-to-humans Harm caused by gender stereotypes: https://www.ohchr.org/EN/Issues/Women/WRGS/Pages/WrongfulGenderStereotyping.aspx Evolved but Not Fixed: gender roles: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC6664064/ Pranavi is a second year Astrophysics student at the University of Edinburgh.

T.W. this article discusses eating disorders Lauren Deveney provides an open experience of her eating disorder, OSFED, and how a Doctor at the University of Edinburgh was unaware as to what this actually was. This is a call to action for raising awareness around, and getting rid, of the stigmatisation attached to eating disorders. Description: Under the scrutiny of the modern world and how we look at ourselves not truly for who we are but as we feel others look at us. We objectify ourselves and become detached from the self. Earlier this year I was diagnosed with an eating disorder called OSFED, which stands for Other Specified Feeding or Eating Disorder. After suffering from the illness for over half of my life, I was relieved to have finally been given a name for what I was experiencing. For me, this made the illness a physical, tangible thing which was easier to comprehend and manage. OSFED, previously EDNOS (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified), began as a category of eating disorders which did not necessarily fit the specifications of the better known illnesses such as anorexia or bulimia. Therefore, there has been little research on this category of eating disorder, with many sufferers being diagnosed with OSFED simply because there is no other clear diagnosis available. Due to this lack of refinement, it took almost ten years of having a seriously bad relationship with food for me to be officially diagnosed. I was not diagnosed until I saw a counsellor at University, who I spoke to about my restrictive and obsessive habits when it came to food. Despite being given this generalised diagnosis, I was not aware of the stigmatisation and ignorance I would later encounter on my journey to recovery. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric disorder, with approximately 1.25 million people in the UK suffering from disordered eating (Source: BEAT). Despite the statistics revealing that it is not exactly an uncommon illness, I encountered a surprising stigma in society and insufficient knowledge from medical professionals. Granted, OSFED is not exactly a ‘well known’ eating disorder, such as anorexia or bulimia, but it is one of the most common. It is a tricky illness, characterised by all the same symptoms of anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder and restrictive intake disorder, but for some reason the sufferer’s BMI remains steady. Therefore, as there are often no apparent physical signs of weight loss, I found people struggled to take my diagnosis seriously. Recently, I spoke to a doctor from my University who asked me if I had anorexia or bulimia. I explained I had neither but experienced aspects of both, and that I had been diagnosed with OSFED. From his response, it was clear to me then that he actually had no idea what OSFED was. I was in disbelief. How could this doctor not be aware of the illness that has taken over my entire life? An illness that has caused me to do irreparable damage to my body and my mental health over so many years. I was so overwhelmed with so many emotions from anger to complete hopelessness. Illnesses such as OSFED and BED (Binge Eating Disorder) account for almost half of all eating disorders. With anorexia making up 10%, and bulimia making up 40%. It strikes me then, as to why OSFED is not as widely recognised or taken as seriously as other eating disorders? Is it the long standing issue of medicine overlooking mental illnesses in favour of physical ones? Indeed, it was only when I had lost almost a stone in weight that I was officially diagnosed by my doctor noticing a physical problem in my body. After considering this question, I came to the conclusion that there really was no good enough answer or ‘excuse’ for not recognising this deadly illness, whether the signs are physically noticeable or not; especially as a medical professional at a University where the majority of students are young adults, and so fall under the ‘at risk’ category for developing eating disorders. I argue then, that this is not an individual problem, but an institutional one. The only way forward to combat, what I will call DESI (Disordered Eating Stigma and Ignorance), is education. Starting at the root of the problem, medical professionals need to be better equipped to deal with patients suffering from disordered eating. In addition to this, we need to normalise this illness in society and the media, starting by having difficult conversations about DESI with family and friends before turning to the wider picture. I know personally I have encountered friends and loved ones who have not understood the full extent of DESI until I have sat down with them and spoken about my personal experiences and my overwhelming feelings of shame in relation to food and my body image. Charities, such as Beat, work fervently to provide critical support through helplines and online chat rooms for sufferers who are in desperate need, as well as raise money for life saving research. Recently, there has been an increase in media attention and coverage in regards to eating disorders. Many mainstream celebrities have revealed their struggles with body image and disordered eating, such as actor Sophie Turner who recently opened up about her battle with body dysmorphia. It has come to my attention too, that many celebrities are wanting to openly speak out about their experience with disordered eating. Sportsman and television personality Freddie Flintoff, along with actor Christopher Eccleston, have both recently released raw and heart wrenching documentaries in which they open up about their experience with disordered eating. One thing which was synonymous with both documentaries, was the fact that they were each working towards battling the ingrained stigma of eating disorders in contemporary society. The fact that they both identify as men is also significant, as previously men have been forgotten about in much of the discourse surrounding eating disorders. Whilst it is true that the majority of sufferers are women, men account for approximately 25% of eating disorder cases (Source: BEAT). However, throughout the COVID 19 pandemic, Beat has seen a staggering increase in demand for their services. Should one charity really have to carry this burden on their own with minimal assistance from the UK government? Perhaps then, we should look to the government to better equip the NHS with more specialist facilities for those with eating disorders. These facilities may include; more specialist medical centres in addition to the few present already, more trained professionals specialising in eating disorders, and inclusive access to these facilities for all. I received my referral to one of these specialist centres 10 months ago and I still have not been seen. This has forced my family to set aside hundreds of pounds for counselling, which a lot of people do not have access to and should not have to pay. Looking at the wider issue, does this ultimately come down to medicine’s continuous failure to support those suffering from all mental disorders? Historically, mental illness has been received by society with prejudice, judgement and ignorance. In a sense then, this failure from professionals, such as employers and the doctor I personally encountered, to recognise eating disorders as a serious mentally and physically debilitating illness, really is not that surprising. Therefore, we need to initiate discussions surrounding eating disorders and DESI in order to slowly break down the barriers of stigmatisation and peel away the layers of shame which shroud this illness. I would like to offer my ever enduring appreciation to those at my University which have offered their continued help and support, along with my friends and family. If you or someone you know is suffering from a potential eating disorder, here are some useful resources; Beat- https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk/ Samaritans helpline- 116 123 Edinburgh Crisis Centre- 0808 801 0414 Sources- The Priory Group, https://www.beateatingdisorders.org.uk/ Lauren Deveney is a Third Year Ancient History student at Edinburgh University

Pranavi Hiremath explores the use of sex education to prevent child abuse in a powerful piece. Caption (Fabiana Duglio: Artistic co-ordinator): The artwork by Ellie Ibbotson portrays her childhood trauma regarding her fear of bath-taking. It represents the power of disturbing memories in unleashing an overwhelming sensation of fear. Likewise, sexual violence and abuse have similar traumatic psychological impacts on victims - thus correct sexual education is key to overcoming the phenomenon and its lasting consequences on an individual and collective level. “With trust, I let you in With innocence, I believed But you played with me You misused Blinded by innocence I never realised you made me a victim But soon to be shattered Soon to be in pain and regret As my innocence grew to knowledge” Most children victims of child abuse are unaware of the crimes being done to them, which leads to them realising too late or is some cases not at all. The fact that most people have a story to tell about their experience of sexual violence is extremely scarring and devastating. Although there isn’t an exact definition for what sexual violence or sexual assault is, the bottom line is that any intentional act of sexual advance: physical, verbal or imagery, towards an un-consenting or unaware individual, is a crime. Here, I say ‘unaware’ because unfortunately, even children are victims of sexual abuse and in most cases, children are not aware of what is happening. Eradicating sexual violence from our society is a battle that has only begun. The most important step that should be taken to do this would be by teaching children about sex and sexual violence in schools. Sexual abuse towards minors usually occurs because they are vulnerable, unaware and most of the times the abuser is known and trusted by them. Even more alarming is the fact that the victims usually do not report or inform their guardian because either they are ashamed, confused or do not know that they have been abused. Therefore, providing education in schools about what is wrong and what is right, educating them about sex, sexual abuse, what constitutes ‘good touching’ and ‘bad touching’, relationships and most importantly what they must do if they ever find themselves or their peers in such a situation, will help children set boundaries and will help prevent abuses and the consequent trauma. This will also help them grow into responsible citizens who are aware of how to treat others and not indulge in such a crime themselves. Interviews and research have shown how due to lack of sex education, young girls and boys do not know about contraception, sexually transmitted diseases and most importantly, are unaware of the importance of consent. Studies have also shown that being sexually abused at a young age causes mental health issues like depression, PTSD, substance use disorders, anxiety, eating disorders. Sex education and awareness at a young age can prevent harm and consequential mental health issues. Sex education is still a controversial subject in most countries and has not been made compulsory to learn about, including in European countries as well. It was only in 2019 that the UK government’s Department for Education made sex education mandatory for primary and secondary schools in England. The curriculum was revised after almost 20 years (last revised in 2000). Sex and sexual violence education have many obstacles such as economic factors, religious beliefs and differences in opinions. Even countries that have made sex education compulsory face backlash from parents because of their opinions and religious beliefs. For now, at an individual level, we have to be responsible citizens by trying our best not to cause any harm and not be harmed by taking measures to stay safe, talking to people you trust or professional counsellors in case of an unfortunate event. Do what you can to educate and spread awareness about sex and sexual violence. Further action: Students at University of Edinburgh: All the help and guidance the university provides. https://www.ed.ac.uk/students/health-wellbeing/crisis-support/sexual-violence https://www.eusa.ed.ac.uk/support_and_advice/the_advice_place/harassment_safety_and_crime/bulling_discrimination_and_harassment/sexual_harassment/ More about how not having access to sex education will ultimately harm children and teenagers. This article includes how different communities react to sex education in the UK and how the victims and possible victims themselves are not being given a chance to have their say. Includes interviews of teenagers, young victims in the UK: https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/5050/backlash-against-sex-education-uk-will-ultimately-harm-children/ Sexual violence against children and prevention: https://www.unicef.org/protection/sexual-violence-against-children https://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/childabuseandneglect/childsexualabuse.html For more information on sex education in European countries, UK: https://www.debatingeurope.eu/2020/02/12/should-sex-education-be-compulsory-in-every-school/#.X5p95oj7Q2w https://populationmatters.org/news/2020/06/16/can-relationships-sex-education-help-save-planet Sex Education in UK: https://commonslibrary.parliament.uk/research-briefings/sn06103/ https://www.fpa.org.uk/relationships-and-sex-education/our-views Sexual Abuse and Mental health: https://www.mhanational.org/sexual-assault-and-mental-health Pranavi is a second year Astrophysics student at the University of Edinburgh.