Privileged commentators are quick to tell working class kids they 'don't need uni' – but I'm glad to see Stormzy backing Oxbridge

It’s important to privilege aspiration, rather than telling certain sections of society they should just learn code by themselves instead

There are many reasons I shouldn’t be a Stormzy fan. He’s the only grime artist on my Spotify, my attempts to rap along to his rhymes are a disgrace and I spent much of his performance at this year’s Brit Awards worrying that the shower he was singing beneath would cause some kind of electric shock meltdown.

Being cool isn’t really my thing, but that is precisely why I love Stormzy. He hangs out with oh-so-mainstream Ed Sheeran, talks about his former dream of studying political science at Oxford and lets his mum make his tour announcements. I suspect, secretly, he’s a bit of a geek just like me.

Now he is launching the Stormzy Scholarship, covering tuition fees and a maintenance grant for two British black students holding offers from Cambridge, saying, “It’s so important for black students, especially, to be aware that it can 100 per cent be an option to attend a university of this calibre.”

Glossing over how unsexy (and brilliant) it is that he’s telling his fans to bother with that maths homework at the bottom of their bag, Stormzy seems to instantly grasp what admissions tutors have been struggling with for years.

Increasing the intake of underrepresented groups at Oxbridge needs more than a well-meaning access scheme. It starts much earlier, and comes down to students truly believing that a place at such a mythologised institution is even possible, that it’s a road worth pursuing. And that they stand even the slightest chance of being taken seriously.

I was an academic overachiever at school, but stood out like a sore thumb on my council estate. I would listen to the kids playing football over on the green as I industriously scribbled down essays in my little purple bedroom, hoping that one day I’d be the one having the fun.

Nobody in my family had been to university before: my dad left school at 14 to be a milkman and my mum went into vocational training to gain her nursing qualifications. They were hugely supportive, but the three of us were clueless of what to expect from the admissions process, how it all works, what would be expected of me – at any university, let alone at the hallowed halls of Oxbridge. Would the tutors look like the ones on Inspector Morse? Would I need to wear a mortarboard every day for the next three years?

I was very lucky – I passed the 11+ and went to a grammar school (a debate for another day) with a history of sending lots of students to excellent universities. I also had an inspirational German teacher who made me believe anything was possible.

Without her, without my school’s experience, I doubt I’d have got anywhere near my Modern Languages course at Oxford. My parents instilled confidence in me, but the kind of gusto required to feel like such a place wouldn’t sneer at you is extreme (even though when I arrived 95 per cent of people were actually lovely and really very normal). It was something my friends, with Oxbridge-attending siblings and middle class parents, could never really understand.

And this isn’t just about Oxbridge – it’s about defending the right to a university education. Of course, university isn’t for everyone, and yes, apprenticeships can be fantastic opportunities. But in uncertain economic times, and with tuition fees increasing, the worrying trend seems to be for privileged commentators to advise young working class people that a degree isn’t all it’s cracked up to be; that learning code or taking a Mandarin course is cheaper and more beneficial than three years in a library anyway, so why bother?

It comes back to aspiration. Arriving at university, I was exposed to such a broad new spectrum of political, social and religious views, of ambitious young people planning careers I’d never heard of. And after the initial obligatory fear that you’re out of your depth, you start swimming. You realise you have just as much right to be there as everyone else and you begin wondering about the mark you could make on the world.

So thank you, Stormzy. For not just recognising the lack of diversity at Oxbridge, but actually doing something about it. For being a celebrity that prioritises education over Instagram. And for making the impossible seem that little bit more attainable.