My zine got accepted to Aunty Mabel’s zine distro, which is run by the Perth Zine Collective. I did a sneaky copy run before work this morning, and they should be over the other side of the country by the start of next week.
A lot of “zine people” don’t really like my zines. They’re quick to say nice things about my writing, but counter with the fact that it’s not a traditional perzine.*
Sure, I’m not a vegan, lesbian, pushbike-riding zinester who writes about my periods and the oppression of the patriarchy. I’m also not a black-and-white hardcore band lording fanzine writer who dumpster dives, or one of those girls who draws cute little line drawings about cardigans and cats.
Criticism doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is people pretending zines (and maybe blogs and punk for that matter) exist in this magical world where people who get shafted by the mainstream can be unconditionally accepted for who they are.
I just don’t think a place like that exists.
I take photos, I love music and coffee and I tell it how I see it. That’s about the best I can do.
*I think it’s a traditional perzine, but anyway.