THE ”WHITE-GIRL-WASTED” STEREOTYPE: MY CHANGING RELATIONSHIP WITH ALCOHOL

Eva reflects on her experiences with alcohol, reflecting on its positives, negatives and how it dominates UK university culture.

In traditional British teenager fashion, my first time getting so-called “white-girl-wasted” was in the park closest to my house, huddled in a circle made up of my closest school friends. We were fourteen years old, passing between us a bottle of Tesco own-brand white rum that I had thieved from the back of my dad’s alcohol cupboard. These escapades became a regular occurrence – my weekends went from chugging stolen spirits in the park at fourteen to downing bottles of Echo Falls Summer Fruits at my friends’ 16th birthday parties to turning 18 and spending my pocket-money on two-for-£10 pitchers at Wetherspoons.

As a socially-anxious overthinker, I fell in love with the feeling that alcohol gave me. It felt like I finally knew what it was like to feel confident, to be able to say and do as I liked without worrying about what people might think of me. I fell in love with the person that I would become after I had drank – she was bolder, funnier and freer than the person I was sober. But as I got older, alcohol became the fuel for my biggest regrets. Combined with some personal problems and suddenly leaving school for good in the midst of the Covid-19 pandemic, drinking became my coping mechanism – I would crave the feeling of weightlessness, desperate to get away from the chaos not only in my mind but in the world around me. When places started opening again after lockdown, I would get black-out drunk and spend endless mornings the next day trying to map out what I’d done the night before. I would often have to apologise for things that I didn’t remember doing, such as remarks during arguments with my friends that I didn’t even remember happening. These became empty apologies as I became stuck in a cycle of binge-drinking. I not only lost many hours of my life because of this cycle, but the foundations of many friendships too. Arriving at university, I realised that these sorts of cycles are not only normalised, but celebrated. According to a 2022 study, 81% of university students believed that drinking and getting drunk is part of university culture. And it’s no wonder – the sign of a successful night out is often seen as ending the night with your head three-quarters down the toilet-bowl and earning yourself a tally-point on the kitchen “Chunder Chart”.

This is not just university culture of course, but British cul- ture itself. While the UK is near the average in terms of alcohol consumption compared to other European countries, we are consistently among the highest for binge-drinking.

By the end of first year, I fell out of love with the mayhem of British binge-drinking culture. I became tired of being the liability friend and tired of the “hangxiety” that would cripple me for days after a night-out. I realised my life didn’t have to be that way, and I began to make a conscious effort to change my drinking habits.

I seek other ways to regulate my emotions now, such as through journaling and investing time into hobbies. I’ve figured out what my limit is. I don’t always get it perfectly right, of course, and I know it doesn’t take any of those bad nights back, but I feel that it’s a step in the right direction. I feel better knowing that I am trying.

If you are struggling with your relationship with alcohol, here is some more information: https:// sobergirlsociety.com/ or https:// alcoholchange.org.uk

- Eva Hughes-Sutton