Take it from a former nerdy East London lesbian with no time for pretension: Cambridge changes you. I left Hackney in September with a double hoop nose ring, a poster emblazoned with the words ‘Never Kiss a Tory’, and black high-heeled boots for towering over men in clubs. I returned weary-eyed after Michaelmas with friends who skied, a posh grammar school boyfriend in tow, and ready for a few searching questions from my parents. So, what happened?

Well, what happened was a triple threat major identity shift. I arrived at Cambridge thinking my middle class weakness for smashed avocado on toast (and the £16 bill) would single me out as the posh girl from London, but quickly realised Cambridge operated in a league of its own. Not only that, but both of my two new best friends skied, and one had a horse. If someone didn’t go to private school then grammar was the norm. Suddenly I didn’t feel quite ‘posh’ enough. Mind fuck number one.

“I had gone from a commitment-averse lover of girls, with bright red hair and a few dodgy tattoos, to the girl with a boyfriend she met in Freshers”

Next, within a year, I had gone from a commitment-averse lover of girls, with bright red hair and a few dodgy tattoos, to the girl with a boyfriend she met in Freshers. I soon found that expressing my bisexuality whilst dating a man was something new and weird, and coming home at Christmas was met with wide-eyed friends asking: “Wait, you’re dating a boy?”

I’d gone from being the slightly nerdy girl in the friend group, who would balance her Oxbridge application with three nights out a week (while my friends partied most nights, delaying UCAS another year), to entering an institution where a couple of piercings and being a regular at a few Dalston nightclubs suddenly set you apart from from the rest. I mean, I could even be considered ‘cool’ now (though the bar is admittedly pretty low).

So, how do you maintain your former identity whilst attending an institution which consistently challenges it? Well the simple answer is, you can’t. Whilst it might have taken a couple of wine-fuelled debriefs with the girls to accept it, the unique vacuum that is Cambridge will change you, or at least how you perceive yourself. Ideas of class, sexuality, and, in fact, most ties to your identity will shift and manoeuvre around your new environment. You will meet people who are completely different to you, and realise that perhaps your vilification of skiing was a little misplaced (just me?). Change will happen, as Cambridge is an experience not quite like any other, for better or worse.

“The unique vacuum that is Cambridge will change you, or at least how you perceive yourself”

And, even if you can’t keep your entrenched identity from before, there are ways to deal with the changes. Firstly, don’t fight it so hard. You don’t have to be who you were, with the same hobbies, interests, or friends. Realising that — with my three hours of studying per day compared to other people’s 8 plus hours — I would not be viewed as particularly hard-working, took a massive burden off my shoulders. Going from being an anxious, overachiever to being just plain anxious felt kind of nice. I may have been a bit of a geek in London, but certainly not here.

You can also let a few things go (goodbye running!) in order to deal with the massive identity changes (what, I’m bi now?). You might fall out of love with old hobbies that seemed to define you after seeing how madly competitive it is here at Cambridge (never met a ‘social rower’ in my life). Similarly, you can pick up new hobbies (watch out pole dancing, I’m coming for you in second year), try new things (is it inappropriate to say I’m trying out men?), and allow yourself to grow and change.

What I’m trying to say is, Cambridge will alter your self-perception and your old identity, but that’s fine. I’m not saying everyone will find a new sexuality, and don’t worry, you probably won’t find yourself only dating posh boys from Kent, but if it does end up that way, just go with it. Who knows who I’ll be by the end of second year? But right now, I’m the former East London lesbian telling you to allow yourself to change. You might even like it. And who knows? Maybe if the boy thing doesn’t work out, the eyebrow piercing might even make a comeback.