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‘One, two, three, four, sexual violence has got to go’ - just one of the many unified and repeated chants that could be heard by the hundreds of students who lined Bristo Square on Wednesday 9th February in the afternoon, passionately protesting the university’s sexual violence redressal system. Image description: This work was originally created in May 2020 in tribute to George Floyd. Using felt pen on paper, there is a singular figure depicted in the middle raising one fist. The symbol of the fist is often used as a symbol of political solidarity. This figure is placed amongst a vibrant scene of intersecting planes, bold oranges and yellows. Such a vibrancy creates an illusion to the dynamism and energy that support the figure, not unlike the protests that ensued after Floyd's murder. Indeed, such a protest came in the wake of a recent petition set up by University of Edinburgh (UOE) student Aarti Mukhedkar. Amassing over 50,000 signatures, it calls for urgent change to the university’s approach, with reports indicating, ‘there are hundreds of cases of sexual assault reported at the University of Edinburgh every year’ and that ‘‘for every one reported case, there are a hundred that go unreported’. The origin of such a petition comes from Aarti’s own experiences of neglect at the hands of the University. In direct conversation with The edi magazine, she stated that, in a ‘veiled attempt’ to receive help, she instead proceeded to be ‘manipulated, lied to, and gaslighted by the very structure that is supposed to care for your safety’, with such process being endured for up to 11 months. Though her case was upheld by the Conduct Investigator as ‘severe’, and despite sound evidence by the Conduct Investigator that the assault had indeed occurred, the Student Disciplinary Committee (SDC) arbitrarily dismissed it in its entirety. When she sought legal counsel in the pursuit of filing an appeal, it was discovered that the appeal option is only available to the accused, and not to the victim, leaving her in a position of great helplessness. Indeed, her experience was so damaging that she powerfully insisted that if a survivor sought her advice on whether to report to the university directly, ‘I would say no’. She went further stating that ‘to tell a survivor not to seek justice in a place that has the responsibility to care for them… breaks my heart’, with the ‘cruel and almost sadistic environment …. complicit in the traumatisation of vulnerable people’. Aarti’s experience is, unfortunately, neither unique nor uncommon, with the University of Edinburgh holding the highest number of reported cases of sexual violence amongst all Scottish universities, receiving 76 reported incidents of sexual misconduct since 2016. The number of unreported sexual assault experiences by UOE students likely remains unknown, with Aarti poignantly sharing that many survivors feared speaking up due to the ‘terrifying, authoritative and “police-like” approach of the university’. Consequently, a plethora of these students are then unable to access their education or go to university-owned spaces, instead of having to forcibly move to online learning or live at home. It is unsurprising therefore that though one should acknowledge that Vice Principal Colm Harmon has, on behalf of the university, responded to this petition, stating that ‘Our processes are, I believe, robust and consistent... it is clear that for you, they have failed’. Followed by a further statement that, ‘I apologise for your experience and for the sense that we have failed you’, this so-called ‘apology’ proves highly unsatisfactory. Ultimately, as has been evidenced statistically and further enforced by the masses of support Aarti’s campaign has received, her experience is neither an anomaly nor an isolated incident, but instead represents an amalgamation of catastrophic errors underpinning the university’s sexual violence redressal system. Thus, taking to social media, Aarti affirmed that to make an apology for this system failing just one student, rather than several hundred, falls ‘extremely short’ of her initial demand for a ‘formal written apology to all survivors and the larger student community’. When asked what she feels should be done to transform this system and its damaging effects, Aarti is clear. An apology for ‘the trauma and grief they have caused survivors who have reached out to them’ is urgently required. Furthermore, precautionary measures should be instated, ensuring that survivors whose cases are dismissed can access their education without fear of being sexually harassed, raped or assaulted. Most significantly, however, she demands for structural ‘change’, aided by external legal help and without delay, to make this system fair and equal for all. Her passion for change is unequivocal and powerfully moving. When discussing their necessity she states that she feels ‘sick’ for even having to request them in the first place, with these ‘basic human rights’, most importantly the right to feel safe, one which shouldn’t require negotiation nor persuasion. The impact of the petition, protest and the necessary discussions generated in their aftermath, is not to be understated in its significance, with it evident that this movement extends far beyond the mere individual. Aarti’s experience appears to be one of a microcosm, encapsulating hundreds of others simultaneously sharing in her great pain and frustration. In light of this, Aarti poignantly insists that ‘the purpose of the protest was to show the university that my campaign is not about a single story, it is about the hundreds of lives they have ruined, and the thousands of human beings they have led down by their unfair trials’. To speak to, hug and unite with survivors in person was, she expressed, undoubtedly ‘cathartic’, with the strength in numbers acting as an assurance that neither she nor anybody else is alone in their continued fight for justice. Indeed, she hopes that the protest has provided the university with a clear message: ‘We are human beings, who are vulnerable and emotional, but also strong enough to follow this through. We’re not fucking around, and we want change. Now’.

An opinion piece by Chloe Lawson about the toxicity that can come with the idea of ‘selflessness’ that children are taught from a young age, how it is a damaging concept for mental health, and how it can also be used to guilt-trip women who choose to live life outside of societal norms. Image description: Created using Procreate in a style that mimics relief printing, the image depicts three blue puppets entangled in their red strings. The puppets bodies are contorted by strings of lies, control and deceit. Frustration is shown by the theatrical dot of red on their cheeks. The only way for them to untangle and be free is to cut those strings. A universal aspect of childhood is learning to be part of a wider community and how to interact harmoniously with others. When joining nursery or school for the first time, or even just having siblings at home, children are taught to push back their selfish tendencies to share with others. Teaching the importance of kindness to get along and live alongside one another is a fairly standard practice among teachers and parents. I remember being taught at school and at home to put others first and that being selfish constituted bad behaviour. Being at a Church of England school, the image of Jesus was thrust into our faces as the ultimate example of a selfless person- dying for our sins and all that. In general, the overall picture was fairly black and white- selflessness is the shining, golden ideal and to be selfish was a cardinal sin along the lines of throwing your own grandmother into the fiery infernos of hell. At 21, having gone through a few years of life, its ups and downs and periods of poor mental health, I have a bone to pick with this idea. Yes, of course, being selfish in the sense that you have a distinct lack of interest in the needs of others verges on the unnatural and is undoubtedly not a good thing, but I would argue that being utterly selfless to near Jesus-like levels shouldn’t be so glorified. For one, the word selflessness itself implies a lack of self. To me, this just generates images of someone so absorbed in the needs of others that they lose sight of themselves and end up being walked all over. This then leads to feelings of burn-out, exploitation and resentment both in relationships and in the workplace (Hopper, 2018). One blog I found when researching this topic declared, “Selflessness does not mean helping others, selflessness means helping others when you need help as bad as they do”, a perspective not taught in my formative years (Rault, 2018). You shouldn’t feel obligated to help people out of good manners if it’s going to put your mental health at risk. This is certainly not to say that you should not help others. Helping others has been shown to improve mental health and make you happier in yourself and your relationships (Svoboda, 2013). Studies in Communal Motivation (essentially the level of concern about other people) have distinguished between General Communal Motivation, Partner-specific communal motivation and Unmitigated Communal Motivation. It is this third category that causes the problems. Studies have shown that participants high in Unmitigated Communal Motivation reported more satisfaction in their relationships but had lower well-being than participants in the other two categories (Hopper, 2018). Psychology Today has described this as “pathological giving”- when our reasons for helping others become damaging (Svoboda, 2013). In scenarios such as these, it is important to assess our motivations for helping others. Forgive me if this is too cynical, but I’m sure many of us can visualise someone who we’d describe as “a martyr” because they just love to help people out and boy do they shout about it. While they no doubt make some people’s lives easier, their motivations are questionable in that they seem to enjoy the pat-on-the-back feeling they get from others and themselves. Their good deeds seem slightly disingenuous. The adage, “There’s no such thing as a selfless good deed” does ring true to an extent, partly as a result of the aforementioned improved mood that comes from helping others, but also because helping our friends and partners should be a two-way street- we are happy to help them and want to help them because we assume they would do the same for us (Svoboda, 2013). “Pathological giving” comes about when we are constantly helping others without seeing any reciprocation. This comes into being a ‘people pleaser’ and yearning to feel validated by others by doing things to help them out, without necessarily experiencing the same. On a personal level, the heavy emphasis on the idealised selfless figure that I experienced as a child has had an arguably negative impact on how I have treated myself in the past. The largely unattainable goal of being completely selfless has contributed to my questioning of whether I am in fact a nice person. In past situations when I have put effort into ensuring others were happy and not seeing the effort reciprocated has meant that bouts of Imposter Syndrome have come out in force, making me doubt my own motivations for any good deeds and wonder whether I am actually just pure evil cleverly manipulating others into thinking I’m a good person. In hindsight, I can see that the lack of reciprocation was not to do with me and that I was determining my self-worth on the approval of others who simply weren’t willing to match my efforts. However, the entrenched belief that selflessness is the ideal made it hard to see it this way at the time. I have, with time, come to realise that being ‘positively selfish’ is a way to foster self-respect, instead of constantly putting the needs of others before my own. Moving away from the mental impact of toxic selflessness and getting political, the idea of being selfless is markedly gendered. I was reminded of this when scrolling through Facebook, and I saw a thread about Disney’s 1937 Snow White film. Snow White is characterised by being faultless, kind, gentle and selfless, to the extreme. This particular thread was based around a still from the film in which Snow White says, “I’m so ashamed of the fuss I’ve made”, after having been chased into unchartered woods by her evil stepmother and showing minimal signs of distress which form a break in her mild and perfect front. God forbid this 14-year-old girl show any moments of fear and self-pity without shame! This, admittedly dated, children’s film indicates some of the values that I feel are projected onto girls more than they are boys when it comes to social cohesion and getting along with others. Throughout the centuries, women have been taught to be selfless when it came to their families and the ideal woman was seen as giving everything for her family (usually the men within it) (Rajasekaran, 2020). Girls should be oriented towards the needs of other people, not themselves. The idea of selflessness is in this instance used to guilt-trip us when we want to improve our own situation, and to shame us when we put ourselves first (Rajasekaran, 2020). Some have argued that the whole concept of ‘selflessness’ is a patriarchal mechanism to oppress women into accepting their lot (Rajasekaran, 2020). Today, women are criticised for prioritising their careers over their families or even forgoing children full stop. Women who have decided to not have children are labelled selfish for not giving their own parents grandchildren, for choosing self-fulfilment over a life of looking after other people (Bond, 2014). Why, may I ask? It is, after all, their personal choice. Plus, having kids is expensive. The conclusions of this article aren’t ground-breaking and it should certainly be obvious to anyone living in today’s society- when we are constantly expected to be available through social media- that saying no to people shouldn’t be considered shocking. Clichéd as it may be, the only person in your own life who will be with you until the end is yourself. Therefore, be selfish if you need to. Being entirely selfless is never going to be productive in the long run. As with many things, it is about balance. Be kind to others and look out for each other, but listen to yourself and know when to say no. Don’t consistently put your own needs last in the name of making others happy. The saying, “Treat others as you would wish to be treated'' needs to be flipped, to “Be as kind yourself as you would be to others''. Don’t guilt-trip yourself into silence if you feel exploited in the name of keeping the peace; have the tantrum Snow White couldn’t have.

Lucas McGregor discusses building confidence, society's constant demands for something new and 'on-trend' and how he incorporates remembrance and nostalgia into his pieces. Tell us about yourself. I am currently in third year of BA painting at Edinburgh College of Art. I started pursuing art as a career path during my final two years of school, I originally intended to study biology but rejected this idea in favour of Fine Art. I did an art and design foundation at Edinburgh College and discovered a love for graphic painting. From there I did a one-year painting course at Leith School of Art which helped me build confidence to apply to ECA. What is it like to be an artist today? I think it’s both parts liberating and overwhelming being an artist today. We are constantly stimulated by different inspirations from internet media which can provide endless resources but can also create an impatient need for new contexts and events. I’ve found myself feeling like time is running out for my work to be relevant – in three weeks it may hold no value. This can be a great tool for motivation but at times it feels like art is respected as a trend rather than a form of expression. Why did you choose the pieces that you have given to the edi magazine? I’ve chosen these three artworks as they represent what I see as my strongest pairings of context and practice. In each work, the goal was to use my thoughts and experiences to create works that people could use to reflect on their own lives – specifically when they were around my age. Much of my work focuses on remembrance and nostalgia, tools that I find extremely important when tackling the present and future. I try to create works that make me feel more comfortable about the unknown that comes next.

Since recent allegations have surfaced against footballer Mason Greenwood, Antony Haslam explores the toxic 'untouchability' of so-called stars, how this can impact young and impressionable fans and why some men really just don't 'get it' on Twitter. Image description: Lara Egan is an artist currently in her third year at Edinburgh College of Art studying Painting. Her work is based on 'derealisation communicated through the female form'. The work is from a personal point of view. "The feeling that your body is no longer your own and your form is just fluid shapes no longer belonging to you, but the surroundings around you. This is expressed through gestural mark-making and flesh like tones, creating a sense of intimacy but also disconnection." Pocketing sixty grand a week is, for most people, totally unimaginable. For the average Premier League footballer, it’s their reality. Don’t get me wrong, football is a big business and so, arguably, it’s all relative. The astronomical wages that many players receive reflect the amount of money involved in sponsorship and the rights to televise games. Whatever your stance on the Prem’s romance with cash, that is largely a debate for another time. That said, a conversation that we need to be having right now concerns recent events with Mason Greenwood, which can be linked to the unfettered proliferation of money in the sport over recent years. Young players are being offered obscene amounts of money, and the sense of entitlement that these contracts imbue is creating a generation of young footballers who exist in a realm of power akin to Hollywood stars. Last February, Greenwood – who earns just under £4m yearly – signed a contract tying him to Manchester United until 2025. At the end of January, almost exactly a year down the line, he was arrested on suspicion of rape and assault. At just twenty years old, he faces allegations that, if convicted, will not only end his career but likely see him spend a considerable amount of time behind bars. This is far from a call for sympathy for him. If found guilty of the allegations, then he deserves nothing less. Contrary to what he may believe, he is not above the law and should be treated accordingly for the physical and emotional trauma that he will have caused his victim. This has occurred against the backdrop of twenty-seven-year-old Manchester City player Benjamin Mendy facing nine charges, including seven of rape and one count of sexual assault. Closer to Edinburgh, we have just seen Raith Rovers’ controversial signing of David Goodwillie, who was found by a Civil Court in 2017 to have raped a woman. There has been a widespread backlash against the Kirkcaldy team’s move to sign Goodwillie, including two sponsors severing ties. The video that triggered Greenwood’s arrest was originally posted by Harriet Robson on Instagram. It shows her with a heavily bleeding lip, as well as several photos of large bruises on her body. This precedes a voice recording, seemingly taken while they are sharing a bed, in which Greenwood appears to say, “I don’t care if you don’t want to have sex with me”. This abusive behaviour is the manifestation of someone with a sense of entitlement, reinforced by a seven-figure salary, who believes that their partner – or, rather, the victim – will not stand up to their behaviour. This perceived impunity stems from a sense of superiority that Greenwood’s money, fame and status sustains. His total disregard for a woman’s right to refuse sex is the product of a privileged lifestyle in which he is unused to being told ‘no’. The wellbeing and future of the victim is, of course, the primary concern. However, what followed the posting of the video on Twitter is arguably just as serious, pointing to the continued and pervasive (mis)understanding of the concept of consent. The conversation that ensued was worryingly telling of the scale and nature of the epidemic of sexual violence in the UK today. Twitter, once again, brought to light just how serious an issue men and boys seem to have with understanding what consent means. One Tweet, since deleted, asked: “Why would Greenwood’s girlfriend refuse him sex? Why are you even in a relationship if you’re going to deny your significant other the benefits of a relationship?”. The implication that one gives up their right to redact their consenting to sex when they enter a relationship is a scarily common fallacy. Consent once does not mean consent at any time. A relationship is not a binding contract that permanently foregoes one’s bodily autonomy. Clearly, though, Greenwood’s self-entitled and warped disregard for Robson’s right to choose when to have sex is an indication that he didn't get that memo. The relation this bears to the wider culture of football is significant. The *young* man’s Twitter account proudly displays that he is a Barcelona fan. I’m guessing he loves football. He probably lives and breathes the game and idolises young players like Greenwood. To people like him, Greenwood and countless other successful young players are a twenty-first-century version of George and Lennie’s American Dream. They have the money, fame and future that so many desire. Paradoxically, though, the very wealth that made Greenwood an aspirational figure is the same wealth that I believe contributed to the perversion of his ability to treat his partner as a fellow human being. I can only imagine the incredible bravery that it took for Robson to record that incident in bed. She must have known that without such tangible evidence, claims against her abuser would have been laughed away and she’d have faced an enormous backlash from his fans. Not only this but as pointed out by many on Twitter, the fact that she was recording suggests that this was far from a one-off event. It is entirely plausible that this pattern of abusive behaviour had been an ongoing feature of their relationship. An ongoing and private dimension of their life was found behind the glitz and glam of the lifestyle he displays to his fans. It is equally plausible to imagine that there are other victims trapped in abusive relationships with powerful young footballers. This isn’t to take away from the potential for any relationship to turn abusive. Rather, it is to point out that the wealth and status of some young, highly-paid players are combined with individual pathology to form a toxic cocktail that encourages the perceived impunity of their image, leaving their victims feeling hopeless to speak out about violence and abuse. Maybe the aggression in Greenwood’s voice when he says, “I don’t give a fuck what you want” is just who he is, and the abusive relationship he controlled is a reflection of his own twisted morality. However, feeling entitled to sex on-demand is at least encouraged by the £20m work contract he signed, and being prepared to use physical and emotional violence against a woman who stands in the way of this is the ultimate demonstration that he felt well and truly above the law. While there is a lot to be admired about many young players, and I am not suggesting that it is at all wrong for young people to have figures to look up to, we must ask ourselves who we are idolising and why. Marcus Rashford MBE – 24 years of age – used his status and voice to bring about a government U-turn on free school meals. He earned his role-model status, and there are countless other young players with stories that we can admire. However, the idea that all footballers are worthy of admiration simply for being stars on the field is an increasingly uncomfortable thought. We know so little about their private lives and how they handle the power dynamics that often exist in their relationships. We cannot separate the private and public figure, excusing one in favour of the other. What, then, of the lessons learned? Well, Twitter continues to be a worryingly ungoverned environment, in which vile abuse (behind the safety of a screen) is allowed to go relatively unchecked. And we, as men and boys, have once again shown that there is an issue amongst many of us with understanding what consent is. I would suggest a good place to start in stopping these attitudes prevailing, would be questioning our blind idolisation of footballers, whose personal lives we clearly know too little about. We must also ask whether the money that young players earn is affording them a perceived impunity and power complex that combines with individual immorality to create truly sick individuals. It is possible, then, that these individuals transfer attitudes of objectification from possessions onto women, and believe violence is an acceptable tool to use against those who stand in their way.

Caroline Thirlwell shares the controversy surrounding Molly Mae's recent comments on The Diary of a CEO. Image description: 'As an artist I work with mixed media and collage to bring photographs to life using magazine and newspaper cuttings. I made this piece at a time when things were looking especially bleak for women and I wanted to create something bold and colourful to represent our varied voices.' Walking into my parents’ kitchen this morning I was greeted by the voice of LBC’s Nick Ferrari. Usually, the radio would fade into background noise while I made my morning coffee, but today I couldn’t help but tune in as I heard the words, “Margaret Thatcher with a fake tan”. The orange Tory in question is none other than influencer and former Love Island star Molly-Mae Hague. According to Miss Hague, her massive success is something anyone can come by if they want it enough - if they work their backsides off as she has. In an interview with Steven Bartlett on his podcast, The Diary of a CEO, she stated, “Beyoncé has the same 24 hours in a day that we do”. In her opinion, “You're given one life and it's down to you what you do with it," and “You can literally go in any direction”. These first few statements could be taken as inspiring words for her followers and listeners, helpful lighthearted encouragement, nothing we haven’t heard before. I wish she had stopped there. Unfortunately, she went on to note, "When I've spoken in the past, I've been slammed a little bit, with people saying, 'It's easy for you to say that, you've not grown up in poverty, you've not grown up with major money struggles, so for you to sit there and say we all have the same 24 hours in a day is not correct'”. Well done, Molly, you’ve recognized the downfalls of your vaguely inspiring yet overly optimistic argument. Although I commend her for acknowledging the pitfalls of her arguably out of touch advice, she then goes on to dig herself into a deeper hole saying, "And I'm like, but technically what I'm saying is correct – we do…So I understand we all have different backgrounds and we're raised in different ways and have different financial situations, but if you want something enough you can achieve it and it just depends on what lengths you want to go to get to where you want to be in the future." Technically she is correct, we do all have 24 hours in a day! What an extremely insightful point! Maybe I’m not the best person to be making fun of this, seeing as I seem to waste most of my 24 hours watching TV, flicking through Instagram (though unfortunately I don’t get paid for that…), or writing articles about Molly-Mae Hague when I should be writing my dissertation. So, what did LBC have to say on the matter? Nick Ferrari, whilst giving some very weak devil’s advocate counterpoints, defended Molly-Mae’s statement noting multiple successful businessmen and women who rose to the top out of underprivileged backgrounds. He gave the example of billionaire entrepreneur Lord Alan Sugar, who was brought up in a council flat in Hackney and left school at the age of sixteen. His success, as well as the successes of other examples given by Ferrari, seem extremely impressive, however, they are only examples. Just because a few people have managed to do it by working extremely hard does not mean everyone can afford to. Ferrari asked whether Molly-Mae’s mantra could apply to a bus driver for example. My response to this would be, while most people could decide at the age of 22 that they want to work hard and make a lot of money, in reality, it is a different story for people who are already working hard and only earning enough to get by. Bus drivers probably rely on their job to support themselves and their family; although it might sound appealing to them to quit their job and follow a business venture or do whatever they can with their 24 hours to achieve their goals, this just isn’t realistic. But perhaps Molly- Mae was right, maybe all it takes for anyone is a little bit of hard work. To round off her inspirational talk she stated, “I’ll go to any length. I've worked my absolute a*** off to get where I am now." I’m sure there is a lot that goes on behind the scenes of her seemingly perfect life that I don’t know about, but posting on Instagram and YouTube, spending eight weeks sunbathing in Spain, winning money for finding a boyfriend and consequently earning endless brand deals with fast fashion companies don’t seem to be activities whichever required a great amount of hard work. Good looks and luck maybe, but I think even Lord Sugar would be looking on with envy whilst selling radio aerials for cars out of a van after having withdrawn his £100 of postal savings to pay for this venture. I do have to cut Molly-Mae some slack, she really would go to any lengths to make money, including exploiting millions of workers in sweatshops owned by Pretty Little Thing, the company she is now Creative Director of. A Sunday Times investigation found that garment workers employed by Boohoo group PLC (the company which owns PLT) were being paid only £3.50 an hour in a Leicester factory, an amount well below the minimum wage of £8.72 for those over 25. This figure is particularly shocking when compared to Molly-Mae’s reported whopping monthly salary of £400, 000 as Creative Director of PLT. Maybe the PLT factory workers should have tuned into Molly-Mae’s podcast, if only they knew they have the same 24 hours in a day, they could be millionaires too! Louis Staples, a columnist at British GQ, tweeted “Molly-Mae Visiting the Pretty Little Thing Sweat Shop” followed by this photo: I may be biased, having disliked Molly-Mae ever since she commented that there isn’t any good food in the whole of Italy, and she has “been a lot of times now”, … so she clearly has some authority on the matter. But less trivial things than this have always annoyed me about her, like her endless Zara, Primark and of course, PLT YouTube try on hauls. These are clothes she will wear once for a video and most likely throw away afterwards. As an influencer, should she be promoting such massive wastefulness? I’m no saint when it comes to avoiding fast fashion, and I often give in to the temptation of cheap, bad quality clothes I know I’ll only wear once. But I’m a student, not a millionaire. I do, however, think it is important to lay my pre-conceptions of the young businesswoman to one side for a moment. Ferrari pointed out that many social media users have defended Molly-Mae arguing for example, “She is simply talking common sense” and, “If you don’t like it just do the same as her”. Conservative columnist and commentator Emily Carver spoke on LBC in support of Molly-Mae. She argued that it seems “snobbish” to say that Molly-Mae “hasn’t worked hard, she just went on Love Island.” In her opinion, Molly-Mae should be praised for having “set out to do exactly what she has now achieved.” She is correct in noting that Molly-Mae already had brand deals and a following on Instagram before going on Love Island, proving that she has to an extent worked her a*** off to get where she is now. Carver tweeted “Left-wing twitter going absolutely mental over Molly-Mae encouraging people to work hard to achieve their dreams. What a bitch.” Molly-Mae has received a lot of backlash following her comments, much of which has been seen as hateful. As such a public figure, with a hugely influential online presence, these kinds of comments must be very difficult to deal with. However, it is important that we can respond and disagree with influencers. Yes, Molly-Mae’s comments could be interpreted as a harmless aspirational message, if you aspire are to do whatever it takes to make money. But is this always a good thing? Molly-Mae is an extremely successful young woman, no one is trying to deny that fact. My main concern with what she said on the podcast is that she is part of a system that actively suppresses wages, enslaving large numbers of people into poverty and she seems blissfully unaware of this fact.

Remi Jablecki on the liberating nature of art and how it can be used to build meaningful relationships. Tell us about yourself. My name is Remi Jablecki, studying 3rd Year BA(Hons) Painting at Edinburgh College of Art. I started my journey with art when I lived in Poland. It provided a healing experience to the negative and often hostile environment for Queer People. I moved to Edinburgh five years ago and happily continue the creative practice. What is it like to be an artist today? In times of commodification, and consumerism, it's often hard to produce meaningful objects or interest. It's a process of learning how to take rejections, critique and stay true with your own craft and passion. Being an artist allows me to raise concerns and problems I would not be able to talk about and provides courage and bravery. I have not had a proper experience of the grown art world yet, as I am in the comfort of university, and the facilities it provides. However, the community of fellow talents and creatives have built friendships and meaningful connections. It’s a great part of this journey. Why did you choose the pieces that you have given to the edi magazine? After the Christmas Break, I changed the approach in my painting practice, as part of continuous development. The pieces I’ve chosen are from my new series of large-scale paintings. Near human-size canvases allowed me to explore the physicality of the materials, and raised interest in a painting process, with a particular focus on mark-making against the sharp line. The abstracted silhouettes denied of their dignity, erased, and unwanted, act as a monument to Queer histories, and communities.

An interview with the talented artist Jenna Waldren (Instagram: @jennawaldren) and her art which focuses on the casual magic in every day. Tell us about yourself: I am originally from London but am now based in Edinburgh, having recently graduated from Edinburgh College of Art with a BA (Hons) in Painting. I currently occupy a space at the artist-run Mutual Co-Op Studios, where I continue to develop my art practice. Alongside this, I help to run the ALT-D Collective- a platform which aims to provide opportunities for recent art graduates (@alt_d.show). What’s it like being an artist today? I would say the experience greatly varies from artist to artist and is an ever-changing journey. At the moment I am in a particularly transient period, attempting to find my feet as a newly graduated artist. The reality of this means I work a few days a week at a Picture Framers, allowing me to subsidise my artistic endeavours. As I continue to develop my practice I aspire to exhibit across the UK, in hope of meeting an array of like-minded artists with whom I could hopefully build meaningful connections. I feel community in the art world is such a precious thing and is extremely encouraging for those of us just entering the art world. Why did you choose the pieces that you’ve given the edi magazine? The three pieces selected are taken from a new series of paintings I’m currently working on. My work records the glimmers of everyday life, attempting to find beauty in the simplicity of mundane moments. The passages captured are mostly centred around the domestic, with the subjects frequently caught mid gesture, performing everyday activities. Alongside these figures, I attempt to include a strong sense of interior, using sharp horizontal, vertical and diagonal lines to divide the composition and to create a sense of space. Visually within my work, I am continuously playing with the balance of the graphic versus the painterly, through means of colour, distillation of imagery and the use of bold line-work.

Curated by Ana King, Leah Moodie tells us about the importance of having an online platform during the pandemic and how she makes the familiar feel uncomfortable through her art. Tell us about yourself. I graduated from ECA last year with a BA painting degree. I’m originally from Orkney which is an island in the North of Scotland but after graduation, I moved to Glasgow where I now create work from a studio space in my flat. Currently, I work weekends at a restaurant and spend the rest of my time skateboarding and working on pieces for my upcoming exhibitions. What’s it like being an artist today? I have found that an important part of being an artist today is online presence. Instagram is where I have made most of my connections and is a great way to build relationships with those interested in your work by sharing extra information about your process and studio practice. Having an online platform for sharing my work has been especially important with the Covid-19 restrictions. Why did you choose the pieces that you’ve given the edi magazine? These are some of my most recent works which I feel best exemplify my current practice. Atmosphere is something that has fascinated me recently. Inspired by homesickness anxiety, I have been playing around with the tipping point from feeling comfortable in a space to uncomfortable and exploring this through the imagined interiors and quiet dramas I create within my paintings. I aim to trigger a nostalgic feeling of familiarity in the viewer for these loose narratives which they have never experienced.

An investigation into the effects of sexual education and pornography on healthy sexual relationships and the rise of Gender-Based Violence. Image description: The artist has employed multiple forms of media to make up this collage-like piece. The central image is of a woman covering her chest, her hands grasping herself from the view of the camera. Surrounding her, the artist has included candy wrappers and the remains of a receipt. The image is surrounded by a circular motion of yellow paint, which is contrasted by the use of black and pink oil pastels in an erratic and expressive motion. The image gives the allusion of almost being clouded over, a washed down white pigment takes up a large amount of the left piece, allowing the yellow to lose its vibrancy. In light of the murders of Aisling Murphy, Sarah Everard, and Sabina Nessa, conversations regarding safety on the streets have been pervasive in the media. Some discourse has centred on the responsibility of the individual to keep themselves safe, advising measures on what women can do to stay out of potentially dangerous situations. Laura Bates initiated a discussion on how phrases such as ‘she was just going for a run’ and ‘she did all of the right things’ trended after the death of Sarah Everard, with the implication being that the case wouldn’t have been quite so tragic if she had been doing something else; if she had been walking home in the early hours of the morning, alone, and drunk after a night out we can’t help but think that the framing of the case may have been different. Fundamentally, it does not matter what Sarah Everard or any of these women were doing. Women shouldn’t have to do ‘everything right’, or have to put every possible protective measure in place to be deemed worthy of sympathy and grief. This narrative of the ‘perfect victim’ continually works to devalue women’s lives. There is no way women can anticipate the movements of these people to keep themselves safe, nor should they have to. While we are not suggesting that there is a singular solution to stopping gender-based violence (GBV), these events did prompt us to consider the potential root causes of GBV. We thought that if we could trace back to the roots of sexually motivated violence, we could potentially gauge a better understanding of how to have useful conversations that can lead to helpful and pragmatic changes. To gain a general understanding of the consumption of porn among our generation, we undertook some anonymous interviews with various Edinburgh university students about their personal experiences with sex education in British schools and their relationship with porn. An overwhelming (and unfortunately, unsurprising) response we had to the question; “What were your experiences with sex education and were they positive?”, centred around the inadequacy of sex education in their formative years of learning. The general consensus was that sex education in schools did not successfully set students up with a well-rounded knowledge about sex, that it was mainly biologically or reproductively focused, and that the idea of sexual pleasure and emotional intimacy was rarely covered. Interviewee A recounted his experience of sex education at an all-boys school, observing that due to this single-gendered environment, his sex education was very much catered to the male gaze - this perhaps founding a perception of sex as for men’s pleasure, informed through a heteronormative, male lens. Despite the inevitability of a single-gendered environment in the example provided above, even in mixed schools, sex education has traditionally been split into separate classes of boys and girls. Topics such as contraception, sexual and reproductive health, consent, and sexual pleasure are not gendered. This education is relevant and essential to everyone to ensure empathy and healthy sexual relationships. These lapses in knowledge between genders often lead to misconceptions surrounding sex, holding the potential to negatively affect the sexual experiences of young people. Interviewee A went on to say how porn was treated as a taboo topic in school; porn wasn’t discussed in sex education lessons, meaning that when he first discovered porn at age 15, it was mainly out of a desire to keep up with his peers. Individual development and sexual curiosity should be encouraged rather than shamed. However, when it isn’t first introduced in a safe and informed environment, and individuals are left to their own devices (both figuratively and literally), it has the potential to move into dangerous territory. Internet porn is largely unregulated; violent female debasement and sexual cruelty featuring more prevalently. There is an assumption that this is how men are supposed to perform, and that this is what women want, or find pleasurable. Alarmingly, our generation is the first to grow up with pornography that is this easily accessible and unregulated, the effects of which, we argue, have been highly damaging. When the consumption of porn goes unregulated and uninformed, for example on a platform like Pornhub, people can explore darker content, feeding into a precarious relationship with healthy and safe sexual relationships. Interviewee B stated that when she was at school her first experience of porn was non-consensual; a boy shoved an explicit video on his phone in her face. This scenario speaks volumes about the idea of sex ‘happening to’ women, that it is under a man’s control. Further, Interviewee C commented on how she didn’t engage with porn until she was 20 years old when her boyfriend encouraged her to try it for her own pleasure. She explained that up until that point, she had always viewed porn as something for male pleasure; this could have been disproven had it been included in the sex education curriculum. We also had our own experiences of gender separation in sex education classes; for girls, the teaching was firmly biologically based and centred upon how to prevent pregnancy, and the idea of sexual pleasure was never broached. Sexual pleasure and masturbation are often assumed to be the prerogatives of men, meaning women’s sexual pleasure becomes secondary and of lesser importance. Interviewee C highlighted some of the differences she had noticed between male and female perspectives on pornography and the different relationships to porn which appeared to her along gendered lines. In past sexual experiences, she said that she could tell when a boy had watched porn as they often acted ‘performatively’; she described how it often felt rehearsed as if there was a prescribed set of stages you had to go through, which didn’t feel natural or authentic to her. Porn can deeply impact the behaviour of the viewer; people turn to porn not just for pleasure, but as an instructive tool, with one of the top 10 categories on Pornhub in 2021 being ‘how to …’ (Pornhub.com). However, Interviewee C noted how she had never used porn for guidance, suggesting that this was a key difference between male and female users of porn. Interviewee C noted how there is often an acute female awareness that porn is not real, an awareness that is perhaps lacking from the average male viewer. Typically, we have found that boys often discovered porn at an earlier stage of maturity than girls, perhaps explaining this discrepancy. She subsequently touched on how common it is for her and other women to watch lesbian porn due to its foregrounding of sexual pleasure, whereas heterosexual porn is heavily attuned to the male gaze at the expense of portrayals of female sexual fulfilment. In the interviews, it came across as though it was common for male viewers to attempt to recreate something they have seen online, which they have assumed was pleasurable for the other(s) due to the performance of sex workers who appear to be enjoying it. This raises concern surrounding those boys who watch porn as an instructive tool, some of whom are technically children. Porn frequently promotes sexual cruelty to women through ritual humiliations and dark male fantasies; in an article for GQ Magazine, Tony Parsons emphasised how ‘teenage boys are being raised on a diet of female debasement’ due to our generation’s consumption of pornography. A significant effect of this is the entrenchment and perpetuation of rape culture within our society, as prevailing social attitudes find expression in porn and have the effect of normalising and trivialising sexual assault and abuse. Thus, we believe that porn has a lot to answer concerning the contemporary rise in GBV. But how can we blame those 16-year-old boys who have grown up thinking that rough, violent sex, with a notable lack of respect and care for consent, is normal? The effect porn can have on how men view both women and sex often has dire consequences on the girls and women on the receiving end of this kind of treatment, forcing them into precarious situations. We researched sexual violence in conjunction with the recent developments in the world of online porn, prompted by the Trafficking Hub campaign; the campaign sought to hold Pornhub accountable for its role in perpetuating the toxic environment of online porn and treatment of its workers This brings us to the locus of the issue of porn, in our opinion - Pornhub. Recently, after an extensive campaign by Trafficking Hub, Pornhub finally took the necessary measures to attempt to regulate their content, at least to a certain extent, by implementing age restrictions and taking down some videos exhibiting blatant sexual abuse or child pornography. When the main site for porn (hitting 33.5 billion visits in 2018) fails to ensure the safety of its workers whose labour they make a huge profit from, it sets the same precedent that sex needn’t be had respectfully; as though it is a commodity one is entitled to. When we see no repercussion for people posting videos of rape and abuse - how does this help an endemic in GBV? The dangers of online pornography when unregulated also pertains to the ‘culture’ of revenge porn. Oftentimes, abusers resort to sharing explicit content without consent, as it can go unregulated on the internet and without repercussions. This only serves to reinforce the strength of the link between sex and violence which needs to be rectified. A report shows that 1 in 7 women in the UK have experienced threats of having their private, explicit images or videos shared. Further, circling back to the idea held by some that sex is something that happens ‘to’ a woman, the report also documented that a fifth (19%) of participants aged 11 to 16 have been sent unwanted sexual images, as Interviewee C herself experienced, increasing to a third (33%) of 17-21 year-olds. This perpetuates the perception that sex needn’t be consensual on behalf of all parties. To ensure safe sex in real life, we crucially need to reform the attitude and respect to online sexual content, for this is evidently the source of many young people’s information and attitude regarding sexual acts. The report concludes with a statement about the upcoming proposition of an Online Safety Bill; “Women and girls have the right to express themselves freely without the threat of abuse. We need an Online Safety Bill that addresses online VAWG, so that all women and girls, including those from Black and minority communities, are protected from online harms.” The displacement of responsibility on the victim for having to keep themselves safe both online and in real-life situations is extremely important in such a wide-reaching and influential discourse. Structural change at the root cause for violence is what we need - not damage control once the crime is already committed. Closer to home, the University of Edinburgh has been consistently ranked as one of the UK universities with the highest number of reports of sexual assault. The Feminist Society (@uoefemsoc) recently asked students to tell them of their experiences during the first few weeks of the first semester. The open letter to the Principal, Peter Mathieson, can be found here or in the link in their bio; by adding your name to the letter you can help to place pressure on the University to address the issue. The more signatures signed, the more likely we will see change. Helpful resources: The Edinburgh Rape Crisis Centre: https://www.ercc.scot Health in Mind: https://www.health-in-mind.org.uk/services/counselling_for_survivors_of_sexual_abuse/d168/ Engender: https://www.engender.org.uk/content/organisations/369-edinburgh-rape-crisis-centre/

One Australian's experience of defining her own cultural identity through the music of her home country. Image description: Illustrated in procreate, the image shows a sun like character in the centre of a bright abstract scene. The colour palette itself is reminiscent of the warmer weather and the simple shapes, and composition of the work creates a, positive atmosphere often associated with summer. The centred sun is a vivid illustration that is observing the fun organised chaos occurring around it. When I was 12, I left my home country of Australia for the big city lights of London. While I’ve been back several times in the years that followed our move, something I have struggled with as a young adult is forming my own cultural identity, finding myself in a culture that is not really my own. I was lucky enough to go to an international school, and while this did open incredible doors for me, it led to some disconnect, not only between myself and my home country but also between me and British culture; something I’d not really experienced directly until university. Finding myself in this cultural limbo has meant that I’ve had to find identity in places other than my surroundings. For me, one of the biggest sources of this has been music. Listening to songs that are fundamentally ‘Australian’ has made me feel at home, even though I’m thousands of miles away. It has allowed me to shape my sense of self for myself; someone who isn’t entirely Australian but who is fundamentally that too. Music has always had an incredibly transformative effect on me and finding my ‘home’ while away from home has been one of the most important things I’ve gleaned from it. These are the songs that have had the greatest impact on my cultural development, and I hope you can take something from them too. Down Under – Men at Work What is possibly the most classic Aussie song on this list, Down Under is what most people would think of when they consider Australian music. I first formed a proper connection to this song just before we moved, for exactly that reason; there was something about the funky beat and slang-based lyrics that evoked such a joyous feeling of home. I can vividly remember crying to Down Under in the weeks leading up to the big move because it was while listening to its unmistakable introduction that I began to come to terms with what I was leaving behind. Even though it came out long before I was born, let alone before I thought of myself as an Australian, there is something about this tune that takes me right back at home every time I hear it, and I am sure it is much the same for other Aussies, international or otherwise. Australian culture is something that I find hard to define for people who have never experienced it firsthand; it’s a fascinating mash of elements from all over the world, baked together in a melting pot of 45-degree weather. Hearing that represented, vegemite and all, in a cheesy tune like this is an incredibly powerful thing by way of my Aussie identity, even if the only time I hear it is in an ‘oldies’ club mix. Am I Ever Gonna See Your Face Again - The Angels This song has an interesting place within Australian cultural history, less so because of the song itself, but rather its reception and what it represents for the Australian people. Originally released as a ballad, this tune was re-mastered in a more upbeat rock style, which defined the Australian music scene in the 70s and 80s. Written after the lead vocalist lost his girlfriend in a motorcycle accident, the song stayed on the charts for 19 weeks after its initial release and was voted in the top 100 most Aussie songs of all time. The reason it is significant, however, is not due to its emotional backstory or lyrics but rather because of the Australian public’s reaction to it. In the great tradition of audience participation, the Australian people created a call and response chant to the inevitable question of “Am I ever gonna see your face again?”. I don’t think I can use the language I normally would when singing along to this song here, but please do yourself a favour and find one of the recordings from when a crowd was present. This song was introduced to me a few years after I’d moved, around the time I really discovered music. It was a bonding experience between my Dad and me, him being a young man in Australia at the time this music was coming out, and me being very happy to take any opportunity that I could to swear loudly. Connecting with others through music, especially my Father, has been instrumental (if you’ll pardon the pun) in the development of my identity as an Australian living abroad. Even though it is incredibly profane and maybe a little bit disrespectful, something about violent swearing sung in tune by thousands of people really manages to encapsulate the spirit of Australia. Smoko - The Chats I can still remember the first time I heard ‘Smoko’ by The Chats. The music video had gone a bit viral on Aussie Facebook (having racked up nearly 15 million views), and inevitably came up on my feed, quite possibly changing the course of my life as a music listener. The Chats are one of the most well-known pub punk/rock bands in Australia, with their tunes being defined by grungy messy guitar riffs and lyrics with a very yell-able quality. For those not in the know, ‘smoko’ is a cigarette or lunch break from work, something most identified with ‘tradie’ culture, or anyone who works in a manual labour job. If you listen to Smoko, Australian or not, it’s incredibly likely that you will be singing it for weeks to come, as all of my home country was for a good portion of 2017. This song helped me to define my cultural identity as a young person; The Chats certainly aren’t your parent’s punk band, and for me, are representative of the developing music scene back home. Through songs that sound like they were written in your mate’s garden shed, the band is able to capture some of the grittier sides to Australian culture that maybe aren’t as familiar to the outside world. They’ve got the ‘Aussie-ness’ of crocodile Dundee, with more of the authenticity, and have been vital in my journey of discovering what being Australian means to me. A great big chunk of my cultural consciousness has been formed by my parents, as they are the biggest connection I have to back home, so finding something in which I can find myself as an Australian individual was a significant turning point in my efforts to define myself in relation to my culture. White Wine In the Sun – Kate Miller Heidke Taking a sharp turn from grungy punk bangers, this song is actually a cover of a lovely Tim Minchin ballad, but that I feel is arguably better than the original. This is a Christmas song, something that we don’t have many of in Australia, that personally never fails to make me cry like a baby. One of the strangest parts of Australian identity, which for me is also one of the most fundamental, is our hot Christmases; seafood and beer for lunch, followed by a swim in the pool to escape from the ridiculous heat. Living abroad has meant that I’ve not been home for Christmas in 7 years, and for someone who is a big fan of the season, this was one of the hardest parts about moving. This song beautifully captures the feeling of coming home to family but also reminds me of what I am missing out on by not being there. Even though I have to stop myself from booking a flight back every time I listen to it, finally having a Christmas song that speaks to our experience of the holiday, and such a stunning one at that is so validating. This song just goes to show the power of music and reminds me that I am not alone in my ex-pat experiences, even though it certainly can feel like it when you are thousands of miles away from home. Rae Street - Courtney Barnett Returning to some of the more up and coming music from back home, we have one of my favourite artists at the moment, Courtney Barnett. While her music has traditionally been more along the lines of The Chats, recently she has taken a turn towards more relaxed tunes, with Rae Street being a perfect example of this. This song is an ode to suburban life, with lyrics centring on the little mundane moments that fill the everyday. Relatively simple, this song takes me back to childhood; transcending the more performative representations of Australia that some of these other songs utilise, but being incredibly evocative of Home nonetheless. Anyone who grew up in the suburbs, wherever that may have been, can relate to this one and its bitter-sweet take on nostalgia. While this song does remind me of what could have been had we stayed, something about Courtney Barnett’s music makes me feel connected to Australia despite the years between us, but in a way that validates the new identity I’ve shaped for myself in that time. And so, this is the music that has made me. It’s a messy collection, with little reason or rhyme but it has all been fundamental in shaping my identity as an Australian abroad.

Curated by Ana King, Alison Laing tells us about finding your path in the art world and traditional and contemporary forms of visual storytelling. Tell us about yourself. I’m an Edinburgh College of Art graduate with a degree in Illustration. Born and raised in Edinburgh, I’ve always had a skill for art and design. However, I truly discovered my love for Illustration at the 2017 ECA degree show before accepting my place to study there. I value spontaneity, expressive mark-making and interdisciplinary collaboration within my creative practice. During my studies I managed to branch out and experiment with numerous imagine-making techniques, so now - post-grad - I aim to find my direction moving forward with my artistic practice. What’s it like being an artist today? For me, and a lot of people I know, the dream for after graduating was to be able to make a living as a freelance artist. However, the reality is that this notion is a challenging thing and will not be the natural progression for a lot of people. I think the most important thing is to keep being creative in whatever shape or form that may be. The natural trajectory of your creative practice will not always be a predictable one - I really thought that after 4 years studying illustration that I'd would have found my niche, when in actuality I ended up doing the complete opposite and managed to branch out my interests and my technical skillset much like a tree. The brightside, as I see it, is that there’s such a wide scope of creative jobs out there which can offer the opportunity to convey your artistic expression, and I strongly believe that whatever path you end up taking will have a positive impact on your journey and development into becoming the artist you want to be. Why did you choose the pieces you’ve given to the edi magazine? I think each piece shows a different aspect of my creative practice and hopefully also has a bit of my own personality in them too. The second illustration is a textile wall-hanging I created as part of LOUD EYE Collective. All our pieces are based on mythological folk tales and are for sale on our website (www.loudeye.co.uk). I am fascinated by both traditional and contemporary forms of visual storytelling and hope to continue to investigate this area more in both research and practical work. This last piece was done during my final year which also happened to be during the height of the pandemic. I chose to teach myself embroidery in order to play to this idea of domestication and also emphasis the feeling of having a self-taught education whilst studying during the pandemic. It was a lengthy process in order to complete the series of illustrations, which I also made sure to look rather rough-and-ready in order to truly reflect the experience of working from home.

A personal article from Clara, she shares how to stop the “self-destructive, self-improvement” cycle and make 2022 your best year yet. Image description: This image depicts the same shaped figure several times over. However, the little bodies depicted are split in half by those with and those without angle wings. The 'regular bodies' stand stagnant either facing or turned away from the viewer. While the angelic bodies twist, turn, and fly freely. What splits the two differences in bodies apart is the two figures at the bottom of the image, who stand at look at what we assume is their reflection. Like our New Year's resolution, the angelic bodies are idyllic. Their joy and excitement looks appealing in comparison to the regularity of normal life. How to actually change your life (for the better) in 2022! Theoretically. We all do it. We all, in our (perhaps drunken) New Year’s Eve enthusiasm, think to ourselves, at the stroke of midnight, ‘Finally, this will be my year’. We have hopes, dreams and goals for the new year, and expect that, as if by magic, the passing of time will usher in a shiny new us, ready to run a marathon or win Bake Off or win a Nobel Prize (I don’t know, dream big, I guess). But for those of us who wake up with a sore head, that new us can wait until the next day. Or actually the day after that, probably, because we need to recover from the holiday season. Or perhaps next week, when we might have more time, right? But by that time - about now, if you’re reading this on publication day - the magic of the New Year has worn off, and it’s the middle of January and everything is boring again, and we forget what goals we even wrote down in the first place, if at all. Suddenly, it’s June and nothing has changed. Oh well, there’s always next year, isn’t there? This year I decided things would be different. It has to be said, I am easily swept into all the new year new me self-improvement productivity mania but I’m being serious when I say that I just knew that this year, 2022, would be different. It kind of had to be. Every year, until now, I’ve written out goals with the intention of becoming the Best Human on Earth and every year I have - shockingly - failed. Previously, my lists, usually of about 10 goals, have been full of numbers; read 50 books, lose X kilograms*, run 10k, and so on and so forth. Each goal fits neatly into a nice little checkbox, which I can either successfully tick off, or disappointingly leave blank on December 31st. Out of my list of 10, I usually check off four or five goals every year. What a brag. Whatever I succeeded at, I decided I was amazing and that there was no room to improve. Whatever I failed at, I decided I was an idiot and I should just try again the next year. Take running, for example. I think a 10k run has been a goal of mine for about five years. I’ve never managed it (yet). I couldn’t even run 5k two years ago. I was literally starting from nothing, aiming for a goal that, for me, was completely stratospheric and getting annoyed at myself when I, unsurprisingly, couldn’t do it. My self worth was so attached to quantifiable metrics that it kind of became a quantifiable metric itself, which always measured quite close to zero. There was a gap between what I was doing and who I was being and what I wanted to do and who I wanted to be. Like standing on one cliff edge and being absolutely determined I could reach the other side with no training, no equipment and no plan. No surprise then, that every time I tried to build and cross a rickety bridge built from impossible checkbox goals, I failed and fell off into the chasm of no self-love, no self-worth and no self-trust. And every year I would try again, in the exact same way with the exact same goals, just with a little less self belief and - logically - be disappointed when I failed again. Something really was not working and I just could not see it. I was stuck in what Meadow DeVor calls a ‘worthlessness cycle’, in her audiobook The Worthy Project, repeating the same actions that came from a place of worthlessness and propelling myself down a self-destructive spiral under the guise of self-improvement. Ah. Like I said, things had to be different this year. I don’t know about you but I don’t really fancy tunnelling below rock bottom if I don't have to. So, after an embarrassingly long time scrolling mindlessly through TikTok one evening, I bought Atomic Habits by James Clear. It’s a book you’ve almost definitely seen a thousand times on TikTok if you’re as deep into all the aesthetic self-improvement, that girl videos as I was. See, I told you, I’m easily influenced. In Atomic Habits, James explains that your life right now is a reflection of your habits right now. Before, my bad habits were self-destructive and my good habits didn’t really have anything to do with the goals I wanted to achieve. Every year, I wanted to run 10K but would I actually even go and run 5K? No, I couldn’t. 1K? No, I genuinely couldn’t. I was trying to run 10K without actually being the kind of person who runs. I could read 30 books a year though! That is what was wrong. I had too much misdirected ambition and too little plan to actually achieve anything outside of my comfort zone that I wanted to. Plus, I was spending literally hundreds of hours scrolling through thousands of videos of a thousand different girls living my ‘dream life’, wishing desperately to be like them, rather than just taking action in my own life. I wasn’t being the kind of person who could achieve the goals I set out for myself. Maybe you aren’t either, if you’re reading this, and you are more desperate for advice than you might want to admit. We’ve all been there. Stuck in the loop of self-destructive ‘self-improvement’. Let’s take things easier on ourselves this year, okay? Here’s how: What kind of person do you want to be? That’s the central question we should consider before we pursue any new goal, says James. What kind of person did I want to be, apart from a better one? I want to be healthier, a runner, more of a reader, a better writer, a better artist, I could go on. I thought I could achieve each of these statuses once and for all, by filling a checkbox and crossing a metaphorical finish line, after which point I would have succeeded! Goal complete! Nowhere to go from here! My logic is flawed, I’ll give you that. James explains that, actually, new goals are only achievable through new habits, which make us 1% better every day. It is only by putting on our running shoes that we become a runner, and I wasn’t even doing that. I was watching other girls on tiktok put theirs on instead and wondering why I couldn’t run like them. So, this year, finally, I made a plan. And I deleted TikTok. According to James, certain habits form and become certain identities, so it’s important that you figure out the identity you want first and the habits second. Revolutionary, right? I’m a mindmap person, but you could definitely apply these ideas to any kind of plan you want. I made six mindmaps - each with an accompanying vision board, obviously - one for each key area of my life (like health, friends, mindset, etc.) and off each stick I wrote “I’m the kind of person who…” and the attribute I want to possess or expand this year, some of which I already have and some of which are more of a challenge. For each of these attributes, I wrote down what that kind of person would do, or how they would act. Stemming from those, I figured out the tiny positive habits I need to incorporate into my routine in order to embody those qualities and therefore, the kind of person I wanted to be; the kind of person I thought I could only be by overachieving and the kind of person I never became by underachieving each year. The key is to make your new habits easier to do than your old ones, and they need to be very specific. My old goals ‘be healthier’ and ‘cook more’ is now ‘choose one new recipe from the Deliciously Ella app every day’, the goal ‘read more’ is now ‘read 10 pages every day’ and the goal ‘be a better artist’ is now ‘draw something three times a week’. Turns out, the key is to start small and build the foundations, rather than trying to build an entire house with no idea how to even lay a brick. Who even knew? I’m also neurotic, so I’ve put all of these habits - around 25 of them - into a tracking spreadsheet with some lovely conditional formatting, and timetabled them daily into my Google Calendar (I really do promise I’m not boring - James does tell us to do that in the book.) Now, each habit is conducive to the kind of person I want to be, rather than the girl wishing for something different but doing nothing about it. Tracking my habits keeps me accountable, and the spreadsheet is a visual representation of the progress I’m making, which keeps me motivated and, more importantly, disciplined. Previously, I would get bored of a new routine in about 36 hours and dissatisfied by lack of instant progress, because I was going too hard too fast, so I would almost instantly give up. James recommends habit stacking for those tasks that no matter what, you just can’t seem to muster up enough motivation to tackle. For me, making my bed is easy, but keep my room tidy, uhhh, just ask my flatmates. So, under Jame’s instruction I have stacked these two habits together. I can only check off making my bed and tidying my room when I have done both. They’re not two separate habits, they have to be completed together. I can only scratch that instant gratification itch when I pair something easier with something harder. I believe that is what they call a ‘Life Hack’. And so far, it's working. I accept, now, that progress won't be made in a few giant leaps, rather lots of very small steps. For the first time, I have no quantifiable or countable goals. Of course, I have things I want to achieve this year, like getting a first in my degree and getting into my dream masters programme (speaking it into existence) or running a half marathon for charity (or maybe I should start with a 10K?) but I’ve realised that doing those things doesn’t require one intense effort one time. And, apart from in the half marathon, there is no finish line. Like, ever. You have to keep showing up for yourself, consistently. This is how we enter into our ‘worthy cycle’, according to Meadow. If our daily choices reflect the self-love, trust and worth that we deserve, then we can only be successful, because our actions are rooted in self-compassion rather than self-contempt. As James says, “the quality of our lives depends on the quality of our habits”. In theory: good habits -> good days -> good life. It’s definitely simple, but I’d be naive to think it’s going to be easy. I’m a sucker for instant gratification, and tiny healthy happy habits aren’t the ideal source of that. But that’s the whole point, so I’m going to give it a good go. Not to be dramatic, but I think Atomic Habits might have changed my life. I literally only finished it the other day so I’ll have to update you after my mid-year review, which I’ve scheduled for June, by the way. In short: Decide what kind of person you want to be. Do what they would do. Every day. Don’t stop. (Love yourself.) So, theoretically, 2022 will be my year, because every single day will be my day, because I’m making it that way. And I hope it will be yours too. *Please, if you have a weight loss target this year, get rid of it. Love you! Visual explanation of my mind map: Further Reading & Listening: Atomic Habits, James Clear (2018) The Worthy Project, Meadow DeVor (2020) Podcast Episode: Brené with James Clear on Atomic Habits, Dare to Lead with Brené Brown (15 Nov 2021)