Ever since I was a fresher I’ve not exactly been the biggest fan of men’s college rugby, after being threatened by a player in Revs that because “he was feminist as fuck, he’d fight me just as hard as a man.” Learning that Queens’ college rugby team was donated £100,000 last year left me feeling a little queasy, and I began to wonder: why is so much money spent on these teams? And more importantly, is it only money that rugby is costing us?

“Women are consistently alienated from the sport as a whole”

Put simply, no. The hyper-masculine, laddish culture of these clubs is inherently intimidating to women. Big men drinking to the point of blackout and taking up more than their fair share of space is undoubtedly alienating for women trying to enjoy any space they frequent, as I found out the tough way at Revs. I was hardly surprised to subsequently learn that at rugby events even alumni proudly boast stories of their sex lives, taking women’s intimate and vulnerable moments with them as fair game in conversations. The crossover between misogynistic college cultures and rugby teams is certainly strong, and will take work to undo; I pose to the men of these clubs, are you willing? Because if male players don’t take it upon themselves to change this culture, then I struggle to see who will.

“The men of College rugby must do more to dismantle these pervasive sexist cultures”

Yet the issues with this system lie deeper. Because many colleges don’t even have a women’s rugby team, women are consistently alienated from the sport as a whole. And, considering the dominance of rugby within the university, there is no excuse for this. I myself wanted to try rugby this Michaelmas for the first time, and was swiftly told that my college had no women’s team. This meant I would have to join the beginners team at a University level, which, on the surface, didn’t seem to be much of an issue. In theory, it meant a bigger group of players - with over 70 at a Michaelmas beginner’s session - real coaching, and consistent practice. However, come the end of term I had reached the end of my free trial, and would have to fork up over £200 in ‘subs’ in order to fund my new hobby. This bill for my ‘just-for-fun’ pastime seemed too high to justify continuing given my playing ability and aspirations. I was a mediocre beginner at a sport I was enjoying, but wouldn’t be playing in matches, wearing a full kit or needing any kind of transportation via the club. And so with no College team for me to fall back on, I ended up quitting the sport entirely, a fate I fear many other women besides myself have also fallen into.

Both the disparities between the opportunities in men’s and women’s rugby, and the toxic culture bred via men’s college rugby need addressing. It seems a little archaic that the college teams aren’t standardised, and whilst men can play for College, I - and 50 percent of the population - would not be able to. Moreover, the men of College rugby must do more to dismantle these pervasive sexist cultures. There is a notable overlap within my own college between men’s college rugby and the male drinking soc; considering this, is it really surprising that college rugby often breeds a climate of alcohol, toxic masculinity and general misogyny? And is playing the sport an almost qualifying factor in the Sunday evening drinking soc activities, which seem to inevitably result in a group of men throwing up in ridiculous outfits outside KiKi’s? Introducing mandatory consent workshops post training, benching players who are caught producing- or even parroting - sexist remarks, and perhaps more joint events with both the men’s and women’s Blues rugby teams with a lesser focus on alcohol could all provide much-needed steps in the right direction. Right now, rugby is costing students more than money, and this needs to change.