I will not deny the experiences outlined in the article recently published in Cherwell — indeed, the competition in Oxford is often sky-high, sometimes to the detriment of students’ well-being. I would lie if I said I’d never caught myself marvelling at fellow students in scholars’ gowns — even though I was wearing one myself! That said, this is probably the tradition I’d defend to death if I had to pick one, and not for self-destructive reasons.

Impostor syndrome, feelings of inadequacy and shame are more complex than the authors of Cherwell article suggest. In fact, they exist regardless of small things like gowns — I bet many scholars, like me, are not absolved of all negative emotions once they get this academic achievement. A Distinction will not automatically make anyone at peace with themselves (I would know) — the change should instead occur through attitudes and greater investment in welfare.

To me, banning scholars’ gowns is, first and foremost, a lie — akin to the notion that first-year exams do not matter. You can strip scholars’ of their gowns, but it will not account for the fact that their grades are, in fact, different, which might (not in every single case but still) affect landing internships, getting postgraduate offers, and developing self-esteem. Demographic disparities identified in the Cherwell article will also not go away — just concealed under the faux notion of sameness.

The article talks about a dilemma faced by the scholars themselves (one which, frankly, has never been an issue to me). Apart from glossing over the fact that scholars, according to university rules, are entitled to wear either of the two undergraduate gowns, it conflates wearing a scholars’ gown with putting others’ down. If anything, this strikes me (even if not intended by the authors) as a disgraceful shaming tactic — for some reason, taking pride in your achievements is considered worth condemning.

One can rightly ask why does this notion of shame extend only to academic achievement: I have not seen articles calling, for instance, for banning the system of Blues or awards for community engagement. When both are, to some extent, dependent on chance, it is not clear whether awarding one and not the other is an expression of smugness and superiority. It is especially surprising in Oxford as a place built on academic excellence — shunning rewarding it here seems absurd, especially since most current students have been accepted to this university by virtue of performing better than their peers.

While many argue that scholars’ gowns reinforce demographic distinctions and biases, I find this argument somewhat condescending. I can only speak for myself and my experience as a member of some groups mentioned by campaigners, but, in no way, I feel like I should be given a leg up because of my gender, nationality, or mental illness. When you attribute academic success solely to one’s privilege, you alienate members of marginalised groups who exceed expectations and perform well against their odds, and, more disgracefully, stop them from celebrating their success. As it was mentioned in the OUSU debate on the issue, academia remains a safe haven for many students who were bullied in school and/or suffer from mental health problems. Should we, as a community, ignore this dimension of student life and virtually make one’s social standing a matter of popularity contest? The answer is not as obvious as the opposing side suggests.

One might roll their eyes at this piece and consider me smug and generally unpleasant — which is not surprising considering how success and ambition are often treated with contempt. However, the only point I want to get across is that there is a separate side to this argument: no matter how you vote, it all comes down to prioritising some feelings and experiences over others, and it would be offensive to suggest that some of them are intrinsically more valuable. Let’s focus on less divisive issues first: the cost of gowns and disparities between different colleges in terms of scholarships/exhibitions are easier to address and will arguably make more positive impact.

Choosing to share my experiences was a struggle in itself — every Oxford student is prone to impostor syndrome, and some of us are more vulnerable in this regard than others. I wondered whether I were important enough to be worthy of speaking, knowledgeable enough to say something of substance, and even “ill enough” to take part in this specific event. In one way or another, this type of worries is what all academics face in different stages of their career, and overcoming it and making a decision to speak, to publish, and to participate in many different projects seems one of the key things one has to do to succeed.

Being an undergraduate is both a blessing and a curse. On the surface, it means that your whole life and academic career is ahead of you; and you can sit back and enjoy yourself without being caught in the whole publish-or-perish nightmare. But what if you want to do something related to academia on top of your degree? Even in such a brilliant research institution as Oxford there are not many opportunities for undergrads, especially in humanities and social sciences. Here, one can go via two separate routes. On the one hand, you can make use of opportunities available to undergraduate students — internships and student societies — and get useful transferable skills. Some of them might be closely related to academia: I strongly recommend having a look at OxPolicy (Oxford student think tank) and student journals (such as Oxford University Undergraduate Law Journal). On the other hand, you can try participating in regular academic work on an even basis with more experienced researchers. Most journals and conferences do not specify age and level of study limit, and while it is conventional to give preference to graduate students and above, it is still worth giving a shot. There are several opportunities available “in-between” of these two options — my college (Hertford) provides a summer research studentship option, and this year the University is launching the Laidlaw Programme in research and leadership. It allows you to get finding and guidance from the college or University, as well as improve your CV.

As exciting as these things are, they are extremely time- and energy-consuming, especially when combined with other Oxford commitments. I am diagnosed with anxiety and depression, and while I can take up many different commitments, sometimes it leads to me burning out. Here, the advice is to take your welfare seriously and plan your activities in the way they don’t overlap and cause trouble — sometimes it is necessary to make priorities and, sadly, cut off some things you might really need to do. Moreover, it is important to be confident in your work and find sources of inspiration in your tutors, friends, and loved ones — it is ok to ask for a feedback if it means reassurance and certainty. Finally, while many might be uncomfortable to discuss their disabilities and other personal challenges with others, I found it very helpful to confide in my mentors and supervisors: emotional support they provide along with their usual institutional support is priceless, especially in times of crisis. If you are the one who is a mentor, don’t underestimate the impact of your words and actions: let me quote an (anonymous) entry from the “Academic Kindness” blog:

I have the best supervisor ever — without her there is no way that I would have got this far. I have OCD and sometimes getting to university is a challenge.

A few weeks ago a colleague brought up my mental health in front of us both. He was aware that my OCD had been more severe recently and was questioning my ability to continue. I was pretty shocked and really didn’t know what to say. Out of the blue, she told him that I was an excellent student and that she believed that my mental health problems gave me a resilience and determination that he would be lucky to find in any other student. When I tried to thank her afterwards she brushed it off and said that she meant every word.

I had seriously been thinking about dropping out, but thanks to her support I will be continuing. I know that she’s got my back.

I hope everyone here finds a supervisor like this, or probably becomes a mentor like this in the near or distant future.