Ida Yalzadeh Nicole Cardoza Ida Yalzadeh Nicole Cardoza

Celebrate zines.

In a previous newsletter, I wrote about the pros and cons of using new media as a way to imagine and organize around collective change and liberation. Despite the fast and global reach of these digital tools, there is also something to be said about distributing knowledge through a more low-tech option: the zine.

Happy Wednesday, and welcome back! Today we're looking at the original newsletters as part of Ida's ongoing series of investing in new media. If you subscribed to 28 Days of Black History, you may have read the history of the Negro History Bulletin, which served a similar purpose decades ago.

Thank you all for your support. This newsletter is made possible by our subscribers. Consider subscribing for $7/month on Patreon. Or you can give one-time on our website or PayPal. You can also support us by joining our curated digital community.

Nicole

Ps – be sure to sign up for 28 Days of Black History.

TAKE ACTION

  • Support the work of BIPOC zinesters by donating to community projects like POC Zine Project and Brown & Proud Press.

  • Check out the zines featured in the electronic archives of the Barnard Zine Library and the Sherwood Forest Zine Library. Read through some that speak to you. If the zine’s author(s) have an online presence, write to them to thank them for their work.

  • Make your own zine about something that you are passionate about and share it with your community.

  • Check out your local bookstore’s zine collection & buy a zine to support the bookstore and the zine’s author(s)! (Women & Children First in Chicago, IL and Trident Booksellers & Cafe in Boston, MA are only two of many indie bookstores that sell amazing, self-published zines!)

GET EDUCATED

By Ida Yalzadeh (she/her)

In a previous newsletter, I wrote about the pros and cons of using new media as a way to imagine and organize around collective change and liberation. Despite the fast and global reach of these digital tools, there is also something to be said about distributing knowledge through a more low-tech option: the zine.

Zines (pronounced “zeen,” like “magazine”) are low-budget, independently produced publications, often made up of sheets of paper xeroxed, folded, and stapled together. Their content can encompass anything from fiction and poetry to art, photography, personal narratives, interviews, how-to guides, manifestos, and so much more. These publications have a small distribution run due to their DIY nature, usually not going outside of the authors’ own networks. Most importantly, zines have a tradition of operating outside of mainstream publication channels, and by doing so, creating tight-knit communities among its readers (Barnard College).

This practice of zine-making began with science fiction magazine readers who created their own self-published fanzines from mimeographs (The Creative Independent). In the 1970s, the tradition of the DIY spirit picked up; zines were used in the punk scene to promote underground bands(The Public). In the 1980s and 1990s, zines would again be central to the Queercore and Riot Grrrl movements. These “zinesters”—producers and/or readers of zines—wrote about their personal experiences with gender formation and sexual identity, and distributed their work to other fellow zinesters who also were thinking about the same questions (From Codex to Hypertext).


In addition to these uses, zines have a long history in political movements and activism, both within and outside of the United States. Zines’ low barriers to entry—publishing and distributing a publication only requires office supplies and a copy machine—contributed to their popularity.  Zines allowed people without much power or capital to distribute information about U.S. systems of imperial oppression and domestic racial discrimination, as well as how these marginalized communities were resisting such systems. 

Particularly in the mid-twentieth century United States, during the Civil Rights and Third Worldist movements, communities fighting for social change would use zines to distribute information about their anti-imperial and cross-coalitional work (Third World Studies). La Raza, a bilingual publication that ran from the late 1960s to the late 1970s, emerged out of Los Angeles’ Chicano movement and was critical to the wider recognition of the Chicano struggle for social justice at the time (Autry Museum of the American West). During the same period, from 1969 to 1974, Asian American students at UCLA wrote and produced the monthly zine, Gidra, which became known to many as the “voice of the Asian American movement” (Densho). 

Bearing in mind these broader purposes of social justice and political change, many of today’s zine collectives honor the traditions of previous zine movements in their own publications and collection practices. Fifty years after its initial publication, Asian American and Mixed Asian students from UCLA and USC came together to restart the work of Gidra’s first iteration and translate its purpose to the twenty-first century (Gidra Media). POC Zine Project is only one example of a number of online venues that have been working toward collecting, archiving, and distributing zines for other like-minded individuals to find. Collectives such as the Queer Zine Archive Project and Printed Matter, Inc. are also doing the work of amplifying publications that speak to marginalized perspectives. Moreover, these digital spaces have created communities for zinesters to gather and read work with similar political and intellectual projects to their own.

While zines may not have the same potential of going viral as a social media or blog post, their ability to form tightly networked collectives and communities are historically embedded within their primary purpose. The zines’ low barriers to entry, moreover, allows for information to be produced and distributed without the need for mainstream approval. By forging strong community networks and giving greater informational access to marginalized folks, zines continue to be an option for slow-form communication among advocates and activists for political and social change.

KEY TAKEAWAYS

  • Zines have a tradition of operating outside of mainstream publication channels, and in doing so, forge closely networked communities with those who find connection with its contents.

  • During the Civil Rights and Third Worldist movements of the mid-twentieth century, zines’ low barriers to entry contributed to their popularity for distributing information about U.S. systems of imperial oppression and domestic racial discrimination, as well as how these marginalized communities were resisting such systems. 

  • Many of today’s zine collectives honor the traditions of previous zine movements in their own publications and collection practices.

RELATED ISSUES

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Jami Nakamura Lin Nicole Cardoza Jami Nakamura Lin Nicole Cardoza

Decolonize your reading habits.

Until recently, I worked for a public library. Part of my department’s job was recommending books to patrons who wanted suggestions of what to read next. Unfortunately, our staff often only recommended books by writers of color if the patron asked for it specifically— if they asked for books about racism or for Black History Month or about “the immigrant experience.”

It's Thursday! Welcome back to the ARD. As we enter the holiday season and plan to spend more time indoors, book sales spike. If you're looking to gift yourself or a loved one with a new book, make it a new tale from a diverse writer. Today, Jami explains the significance of broadening your reading habits and pitfalls of the publishing industry.


This is the Anti-Racism Daily, a daily newsletter with tangible ways to dismantle racism and white supremacy. Support our work by making a one-time contribution on our website or PayPal, or giving monthly onPatreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). To subscribe, go to antiracismdaily.com.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

  • Browse through your bookshelves or think about the books you’ve read this year.
    Reflect: How many books are by people of color? By Black writers? Are all those books only focused on trauma or pain? Are all the books you read for fun or pleasure all by white writers?

  • Ensure that your anti-racism reading translates off the page. After you read a book, ask yourself: what actions or steps are you taking in response? 

  • Divest from Amazon. Buy from Black-owned bookstores.

GET EDUCATED

By Jami Nakamura Lin (she/her)

Until recently, I worked for a public library. Part of my department’s job was recommending books to patrons who wanted suggestions of what to read next. Unfortunately, our staff often only recommended books by writers of color if the patron asked for it specifically— if they asked for books about racism or for Black History Month or about “the immigrant experience.”

But people didn’t ask those questions very often. They asked for thrillers. For books like Harry Potter or Game of Thrones. For a book with a good love story. And in those cases, our staff would often suggest white author after white author. 

My experience at the library is mirrored in our reading habits across the nation. In the wake of George Floyd, people talked a lot about how anti-racist reading was on the rise, and pointed to the number of Black authors on the bestsellers’ lists (NYTimes). But with one or two notable exceptions, those authors were writing nonfiction explicitly about racism. Meanwhile, the lists were full of white writers writing about everything (Publisher’s Weekly). 

Unfortunately, we have a tendency to read Black authors or authors of color only when they write about very specific topics—and it’s a problem deeply entrenched in publishing. “In the industry, stories about police brutality, the struggle, poverty, etc. have been dubbed “issue” books, and it’s a not-so-secret secret that if your book doesn’t fall into this category, it won’t get any real push or marketing,” says L.L. McKinney, author of the fantasy series The Nightmare-Verse (Tor.com). The industry, she explains, focuses predominantly on Black pain. 

The results of such pigeonholing are far-reaching. Often, these are the only books about Black people assigned in school— an example of how curriculum can unintentionally result in racial trauma (Teaching Tolerance). Meanwhile, McKinney argues that “there’s the exploitative aspect of non-Black readers taking in this story and somehow feeling they’ve accomplished something. They’ve managed activism by bearing witness to the events of the book, but then don’t follow up with seeking change in the real world. Reading then becomes performative” (Tor.com).

This happens against the backdrop of a publishing industry with a huge diversity problem across the board. Editors are 85% white, sales representatives are 81% white, agents are 80% white, book reviewers are 80% white (Lee & Low). (Interns, however, are only 51% white, a statistic that comforts me not at all.) The viral Twitter campaign #publishingpaidme (started by McKinney and YA author Tochi Onyebuchi) exposed the enormous pay discrepancies between Black writers and non-Black writers (Buzzfeed News). Black writers like N.K. Jemisin, whose amazing Broken Earth trilogy won basically every fantasy and sci-fi award, was paid an $25,000 advance for her book; Roxane Gay got a $15,000 advance for Bad Feminist (NPR). Meanwhile, white authors with less experience in the same genre were pulling in six-figure advances. 

So it’s not that reading books about “issues” is problematic. It’s problematic when those are the only books by Black authors (or authors of color) you read. It’s problematic when you turn to writers of color when you want to be educated, but white writers the rest of the time. Instead, we should also be reaching for authors of color when we want a lighthearted, fluffy book. When we want to read something to decompress from our months of election anxiety. When we want to travel to a different world. We shouldn’t have our “race/racism bookshelf”, crammed with writers of color, and have every other shelf filled with white writers.

It can be hard to know where to start—especially when major publications and newspapers don’t make much space for these kinds of books. Luckily, the Internet is chock-full of so many reviewers and book bloggers of color who have collected so many resources for all sorts of genres. Lists like 8 Great Books Celebrating Black Joy by Enobong Essien, 5 Indigenous Speculative Fiction Authors You Should Be Reading by Rebecca Roanhorse, and The Asian Detective Novel: From Racist Caricature to Authentic Representation by Pooja Makhijani show that there’s no excuse for ignorance. (For parents [and other people who love reading YA or kidlit] check out the organization We Need Diverse Books and their wonderful Instagram.)

And when you choose to buy, purchase from Black-owned, Indigenous-owned, or other POC-owned bookstores, many of which have been hit hard by COVID. Most importantly: don’t buy from Amazon. I know, I know—I too have been seduced by their low, low prices, especially when compared to an indie bookstore. But I’m trying to remember that the $5 or $6 dollars I save buying at Amazon is possible because of their exploitative, unethical practices (which we covered in a previous newsletter). The company can offer cheaper books because “they are cutting other costs: taxes, publisher payments, author payments, and safe-labor practices” (Social Justice Books). (For more on Amazon pricing and problems, check out The Nation.)

We need to imagine a different future. Books can point us there—but only if what we’re reading also helps us imagine and understand a world full of the fullness of Black lives, of the joy in Indigenous community, in the mundane and the silly and the vastness of experience of people of color.  It’s important to educate ourselves about the painful reality of racism, but we can’t stop at trauma. Instead, we need to incorporate books by writers of color into all of our reading, and ensure that what we read translates into our actions. 

KEY TAKEAWAYS

  • he publishing industry promotes books about Black pain and trauma more than books by Black writers in other topics or in other genres, like fantasy and romance (Tor.com).

  • It’s important for us to read books by Black writers and writers of color not only when we want to read about racism or want to be educated, but also for leisure—mysteries, romance, thrillers, literary fiction, etc. 

  • The publishing industry is predominantly white. Editors are 85% white, sales representatives are 81% white, agents are 80% white, and book reviewers are 80% white (Lee & Low).

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Read More