How critical to a safe night out are Cambridge’s bouncers? Simon Lock

You see them every single week, most likely – but not limited to – on Wednesday evenings. With just a single wave of their hand, they determine the fate of your evening – whether you’ll be welcomed into a sweaty S Club 7-themed grotto, or be condemned to another hour in a freezing cold queue. But, most importantly, they’re there to keep people safe, an extremely serious task in light of a CUSU survey that found nightclubs were the most common places for sexual harassment to occur. I interviewed a Cambridge bouncer to find out what life is like on the other side.

To do this involved walking around central Cambridge on a Wednesday at midnight, stone cold sober. If you, like me, are studying anthropology and want some hands-on experience, I can definitely recommend this expedition for some interesting insights. A taxonomy of campus tribes roam Market Square under the cover of darkness, as do many large personalities and hopeful BNOCs. Among these diverse characters I supposedly met an obscure prince (trying to negotiate a queue jump fee), and even a Parkour expert. However, the main thing you’re likely to discover on this expedition is some sympathy – and a lot of respect – for the bouncers in Cambridge clubs.

For George*, one of Fez’s doormen, his job is all about “people skills.” He meant it more seriously than most of us do when peppering it throughout personal statements. During our conversation he seamlessly welcomed people into the club and humoured drunk storytellers, not to mention preventing Parkour enthusiasts from taking the concept of queue-jumping too literally.

George really emphasised the personal aspect of working as a bouncer: not just in striking up friendships with regular patrons, but also in ensuring people’s safety. He went into great detail in explaining his response to witnessing, or receiving a report of, sexual harassment. Typically, this would include discussing the incident with the victim and talking to the perpetrator to assess their frame of mind. From here, he would decide the most appropriate response, keeping in mind the victim’s desired course of action. This generally involves a warning for the perpetrator or expulsion from the premises. In the face of such negative statistics on campus, his serious attitude and rigorous training was reassuring. Bouncers can’t stop the toxic attitudes which condone sexual harassment in our society, but they do play an important role in ensuring people’s security.

On an institutional level, some clubs in Cambridge have taken notice of rising student pressure against harassment and violence. In September last year, Kuda and Ballare (a.k.a. Life and Cindies) introduced the ‘We Care’ campaign, which introduced free phone charging facilities, as well as taxi escort services for ‘vulnerable’ people. The clubs also hired female Customer Care Ambassadors, presumably seeking to change perceptions of bouncers as unapproachable for women. These efforts to build relationships between staff and customers are especially important given that, as a survey found, 88 per cent of cases of sexual harassment and assault go unreported, and hence only a small proportion of perpetrators are ever punished. However, for these services to be effective, awareness is essential. I certainly hadn’t seen or heard of any of these services during my first hazy nights out in Cambridge. Greater promotion is needed, especially during Freshers’ Week, to ensure students’ safety. With Life and Cindies taking the lead in this respect, the rest of the clubs in Cambridge could definitely step up their game.

Sexual harassment and violence are deeply rooted issues in student culture at Cambridge and across the UK, which efforts from establishments and their staff alone – however commendable – simply can’t resolve. We as students need to address the root cause of these issues, and point out problematic attitudes when we see them arise. But it’s also worth remembering that bouncers are more than just people to practise your debating skills on. They’re people doing an essential and often thankless job who are genuinely trying to help us have a good night out.

I’ll continue to enjoy the quintessential Cambridge night out: visiting the same four sweaty clubs, pretending not to notice the repetitive playing of Carly Rae Jepsen songs, and stopping off for cheesy chips on the way home.

The only thing I think we need to add? A dose of gratitude for those helping to keep us safe.

*Bouncer’s name has been changed