Our Comfortability Bubble

Tony Sewell, a British educationalist, discusses the concept of “cultural comfort zones” in his 1997 book Black Masculinities and Schooling: How Black Boys Survive Modern Schooling. It describes how individuals, particularly those from minority communities, often seek solace and identity within their own cultural or ethnic groups. This tendency is especially pronounced in environments where they feel marginalised or out of place. Reflecting on my own experience, I realise this was exactly how I felt when I began my Philosophy course.

I still remember walking into the fresher’s introductory lecture, arriving just on time. As I glanced around the room, I noticed I was one of the few ethnic minorities in sight. My immediate reaction? Sit right at the front. A few minutes later, I spotted some Black students entering the room. Instantly, a wave of relief washed over me, as if their presence restored a sense of balance in an unfamiliar space. That small sense of familiarity gave me the courage to settle in. As a Londoner, I’ve grown up surrounded by diversity—it’s what I’m used to seeing. Suddenly being placed in an environment where I stood out so starkly made me feel vulnerable and displaced. It brought me back to a place in my life that I feared coming back to.

I caught up with a mutual from back home who grew up in East London. He went to Brampton Manor Sixth Form, a school known for its academic rigour and helping students from disadvantaged backgrounds get into elite universities like Cambridge. My friend, Nimi, now studies medicine there. When I asked if he stuck with his Brampton friends at Cambridge he said, “Yes. Might be a colour thing. Not a lot of Black people in Cambridge.” He admitted he’d made only one or two course friends, mainly because finding people who got his East London banter was tough. So, he stuck to what he knew.

But here’s the twist: although Nimi returned to his comfort zone, he didn’t want to stay stuck there.

I’ve done the same thing but in my own way. I chose UoB because I wanted to be independent in a new space that still felt familiar—a student’s version of London. Birmingham offers freedom and opportunity, all with a touch of home. As Nimi put it, Newham is a “small echo chamber.”

A small echo chamber to Nimi—one that can feel isolating in a world full of possibilities. In Newham, people often share similar mindsets and beliefs, making it easy to feel trapped in a cycle of familiar perspectives. Nimi states, “In Newham, we are only exposed to select ways of thinking, unaware of what the rest of the world goes through and the perspectives existing outside the echo chamber.”

Not everyone breaks out of their comfort zone so easily. Take Lyra, for example. I met her when I was rushing to a workshop in the Rosa Parks Room at the Guild. She was holding a yoga mat and smiling brightly at me. We didn’t find our rooms, but we did find each other—thank God for socials! A week later, I interviewed her about her UoB experience.

Lyra chose UoB for its psychology degree and, as she called it, the “Nella Rose experience.” Think wild uni stories and nonstop parties. Growing up in Dudley, where 91.5% of the population is white, she was a Black girl who felt isolated even among her minority friends. After being ostracised from a friendship group and subjected to racist online abuse (“Beat up your Black self”), she was desperate to leave Dudley. Her dream was to meet more people like her at university.

Unfortunately, reality fell short of Lyra’s expectations. She struggled to make connections with people from her background, partly because she’d retreated into her comfort zone. Psychology, like Philosophy, was predominantly white. Her story reminded me of the start of my second year when I missed out on social gatherings after prioritising other things. It hit me at a house party where 80% of the Black community were tight-knit friends, and I felt like an outsider. This is a representation of how hard it can be to break into other people’s bubbles, especially when groups/friendships and connections have been formed.

Being in a Russell Group university can be daunting, especially for someone of colour. When I asked Nimi if he joined African Caribbean Society (ACS), he replied without hesitation, “Of course!” I did too. But Lyra didn’t have the same response. She told me that she heard about ACS in general, but not the UoB ACS. In my first year, I was lucky to have an ensuite room at UoB Battery Park. Surrounded by fellow Londoners and people from my background, I was aware of ACS and I had to join—emphasis on “had.” FOMO (fear of missing out) was a real thing. ACS felt like the solution to staying connected with the Black community and avoiding the FOMO. However, I decided to discontinue my membership for second year, because I wanted to focus more on my degree and saving money. Besides my decision, those currently a part of ACS are having a blast.

Ife, the Vice President of the society this year, caught me up on second-year ACS and what they currently have to offer. She told me how diverse their events are. “Culture Shock” in November showcased African and Caribbean culture through music, dance, and fashion. Their Careers Evening in October connected members with Black professionals in fields like Law and business. Not to mention how much they support independent Black businesses by posting them on Instagram. God knows what I’d do if I couldn’t find somebody who knew how to do hairstyles on 4c hair! ACS doesn’t just create a safe space; it provides opportunities that aren’t always accessible to the Black community. Nimi’s advice for Black students heading to university? “Find ACS ASAP!” I’d give students like Lyra the same advice.

Besides race, there are other rewarding reasons for joining societies. Take Dom, for instance—a tall, white boy from Kent studying Physiotherapy here at UoB. He enjoys his course, but what he didn’t enjoy was relying too much on his more sociable football mate. They’d planned to stay in the same student accommodation, which, coincidentally, I also ended up living in during my first year. Dom and I would often bump into each other in the kitchen, where I’d mostly catch him making salmon, rice and veggies. Beyond that, he seemed busy—always heading to the gym, lectures, or seminars, and frequently travelling back to Kent. Little did I know these routines were his way of finding solace, as he struggled to connect with his friend’s new university lifestyle.

By the second year, Dom made it a priority to step out of his comfort zone and fully embrace university life. He made new friendships in lectures, making academic life more manageable, and joined clubs like Brazilian jiujitsu and MMA. He even became president of the Physiotherapy Society. “Signing up and creating my own society pushed me out of my comfort zone,” he shared. Over 40 people attended his events, a gratifying reward for his efforts. “I’m a reserved person—going out of my comfort zone is beneficial, but when I feel nervous, I know I have my comfort zone to fall back into.” For him, that comfort zone includes the gym, his family, and his girlfriend.

Start of my second year, I also ventured beyond my comfort zone. I participated more in seminars, applied for more opportunities, and even started running. The rewards were worth it. I made new friends, formed valuable connections, and saved money too. As a student on a budget, avoiding a gym membership is a win.

What I’ve learned is that life is a “trial and error experience,” as Dom neatly puts it. You have to dive into the unknown and hope for the best. Sometimes, this can be the greatest turnaround in your life, and other times, it can be something to avoid in the future. You’ll only know when you try it. For students like Dom, a comfort zone will always be there.

Going from student accommodation to a shared house, I’ve seen both the safe and dangerous sides of Birmingham. The crime stories and viral TikTok firework videos tend to overshadow the charming parts—like the friendly families, beautiful houses, and the cats roaming freely or dogs happily running in the park. And then there are the catcallers. Or should I say, dog callers? Yes, you read that right. On my way to Aldi with a friend, I was being barked at by a dog from its owner’s car. I’ve seen it all, and you think I haven’t experienced the depths of Birmingham? Two years here have been more than enough to give me the full Birmingham experience.

Eden, another student I interviewed, has lived in Birmingham his whole life. When I asked how he feels about the city, he said, “It’s alright,” but admitted that crime is the first thing that comes to mind when he thinks of Birmingham. We both laughed, reminded of an inside joke we had before the interview. When I first met Eden, he came across as quiet and reserved. But the moment I cracked a joke, his entire demeanour shifted—his wit, sarcasm and confidence took centre stage. We shared too many laughs, but nothing prepared me for the playful punches that followed. Let me tell you, his punches felt like bricks!

His first impressions of university were shaped by “standard expectations” from movies—cool friends, wild parties, and study sessions. Reality? He commutes from his uncle’s house, has never been to the UoB library, and finds it hard to connect with people.

Eden’s social anxiety holds him back. “I know I’m smart, but I get imposter syndrome,” he admitted. He avoids campus after lectures, spending time at home or with his girlfriend instead. When he talked about her, the excitement in his eyes was unmistakable. These factors bring him comfort. Yet, beneath the jokes we shared, I saw his disappointment. He’s found safety in what’s familiar, but at the cost of experiencing more of university life.

We all find comfort in different ways. For me and the people I spoke to, comfortability came from their ethnicity, shared backgrounds, or familiar people. And as much as these things play a huge part in our university experiences, what about our day-to-day life? For me, whether at uni or at home, my biggest source of comfort is music.

Waking up? Music. Getting ready for the day? Music. Heading out? Music. Coming back? Still music. It was my constant companion. But what I didn’t realise was that this constant soundtrack had started to disconnect me from the world. Breaking free from the repetitive cycle, even briefly, allowed me to truly take in my surroundings—and, surprisingly, made me more approachable, increased my self-awareness (go figure), and brought me more peace.

Stepping out of my comfort zone turned out to be beneficial, but I’ve come to appreciate that having a comfort zone as a backup isn’t a bad thing either. Honestly, there’s no way I’m skipping music while cleaning. No freakin’ way! Sometimes, comfort is about balance: knowing when to embrace change and when to stick to the things that bring you joy. Throughout my first and second years, I’ve been in and out of my comfort zone. Some days, I’d stay in my room for much needed “me time,” but then feel lazy or bored. I’d go out and socialise on other days, only for my social battery to die. Birmingham has put me in both comfortable and uncomfortable situations, teaching me that comfortability can be a double-edged sword.

Ultimately, your university experience is what you make it. Nimi and Dom knew how to balance comfort and growth, Lyra still has time to find her footing, and Eden? I’m making it my mission to drag him to the library. We’ll start there. Personally, I’m ready to make more changes and take more risks because, at the end of the day, my comfort zone will always be there. After all, nothing beats cosying up in bed after a long day.