In this near-dystopian, once-great country—carefully curated, censored, and corrupted by Ryan Walters and his ilk—one of the truest forms of resistance to emerge is the revival of the zine. A rebellious, independent print medium, zines are the true freedom of the press, and they’ve made an undeniable comeback in recent months.
Back in the mid-90s, my own zine, Damaged, evolved from a rough cut-and-paste production into a low-budget, semi-professional endeavor—both versions now relics of a long-gone era. But as I stepped into the new Floating Bookshop at 3 NW 9th St., surrounded by stacks of fresh independent media, especially zines, I felt something stir.
I might do it too…