Behind the UCLscenes: The Dangers of Student Confession Pages
Image Credit: B_A via pixabay.com
There’s something quietly unnerving about the ease with which we can publish anonymously. With a single click, almost anything can be shared with the world - without the slightest essence of personal accountability. Anonymity, of course, is not inherently harmful. At its best, it’s a powerful force for good: enabling whistleblowing, facilitating mental health support, and protecting those who would otherwise be silenced. But, to borrow a (painfully overused) line from my favourite web-slinging vigilante, with great power comes great responsibility.
My social media-savvy peers will likely be familiar with @uclscenes, an Instagram confession page that invites anonymous submissions from UCL students via Google Forms. It’s not the first UCL-based outlet of its kind (RIP @uclconfessions_), and it almost certainly won’t be the last.
What differentiates UCLscenes from your average worldwide confession page (think @fesshole and its many imitators) is the illusion of proximity; these posts feel closer to home. We read them and convince ourselves they could be about someone we know or, in moments of spectacular self-delusion, entertain the possibility that someone is confessing their secret love for us. Rationally, on a campus of over 50,000 students, the likelihood of such a connection is slim to none. Emotionally, that hardly matters: it’s the fantasy of intimacy that keeps us scrolling.
That’s not to dismiss all confession pages as trivial: anonymous platforms have, at times, catalysed meaningful change. In 2020, the rise of Everyone’s Invited provided a vital space for young people to report sexual harassment and rape culture within schools. Equally, anonymous forums such as Tellmi have been recommended by CAMHS as a way for under 18s to seek mental health support without fear of exposure. Anonymity can be protective; it can even be revolutionary.
UCLscenes, however, feels less like a progressive tool for social justice, and more like an unfiltered avalanche of raunchy disclosures and awkward anecdotes. Among its eye-catching revelations are “Had a 3some so bad I thought I was ace”, and “someone put a used condom in someone else’s pasta pot” - not exactly a glowing advert for a Global Top 10 University. Scroll long enough and a pattern begins to emerge: not only one of questionable grammar, but of sexual fixation and voyeuristic curiosity masquerading as ‘confession’.
When the page takes a break from broadcasting bodily fluids and bedroom failures, it inevitably turns nastier. Our frenemies over at The Cheese Grater have recently found themselves in the firing line, with posts attacking their content, their members, and even their integrity as a society. Confessions branding Cheese contributors ‘horrible’, ‘f*cking melts’, and likening the publication to The Daily Mail have circulated freely. Thank goodness the Grater gang are known for their appreciation of a bit of light-hearted ribbing (Shepherd Pye says hi, by the way)!
Here comes my own (decidedly non-anonymous) confession: I’m being a total hypocrite. In my self-righteous critique of confession culture, I’ve failed to mention that I, too, am one of @uclscenes’s thousands of followers (give me a second while I step down from my high horse). I’ve told myself I’m being a bystander - part of the problem, perhaps - but for some reason I can’t quite bring myself to click ‘unfollow’. In that sense, I’m no better than the other 4,948 people enabling it; shamelessly indulging in the exhibitionism of it all.
Our collective inability to go cold turkey from UCLscenes feels like a textbook case of Gen Z’s fear of missing out (or, as your hip mum might call it, FOMO). We can’t bear the thought of being excluded from the drip-feed of campus culture, scandalous tit-bits, and supposed “insider” knowledge. And maybe that’s the uncomfortable truth at the heart of anonymous confession culture: it survives not because it always has something worth saying, but because we keep listening. In a digital age where silence is a choice and anonymity is a shield, the real question is whether we’re willing to take responsibility - not just for what we post, but for what we choose to consume. They say empty vessels make the most noise; maybe it’s time for @uclscenes to turn down the volume.