A form of DIY countercultural expression that became popular during the 1980s and 1990s is now being used to prosecute protesters.
Zines (pronounced zeens), short for magazines, are small, simply made, hand-produced booklet. They can be easily created with household equipment (paper, pens, printers, copy machines) and disseminated at gathering spots.
Zines and zinemaking fell out of favor with the widespread popularity of the internet. However, the medium has found a renewed surge of popularity in recent years due to surveillance, doxxing, social media censorship, and related topics, particularly with groups most at risk.
In practice, zines are now directly in the sights of the Trump administration. The June sentencing of the Prairieland Nine protesters in Texas was exceptionally harsh, but civil liberties advocates and organizers have been particularly concerned with the conviction of artist Daniel “Des” Sanchez Estrada, who was sentenced to 30 years in federal prison for transporting a box of independent zines.
Now, San Diego’s activists and zine makers are not only rallying to support the Prairieland Nine — they’re also questioning what the U.S. government protects as free speech, and what it now deems as criminal activity.
For graphic designer Stacey Uy, creator of Radical History Club, a publication that produces a series of professionally researched and illustrated “decolonized history”-genre zines, the Prairieland convictions are particularly troubling.
“Anyone who’s done the most basic research into understanding U.S. empire and how the U.S. has criminalized, murdered, and displaced people will know that anyone who has built their power on the subjugation of people will of course see anyone taking the time to reeducate and remember their history and stories as a threat.” Uy said. “Because that’s how power can be built.”
Uy, who researches, writes, and illustrates the series, says zines themselves aren’t exclusively political; they can cover almost any topic with content ranging from visual art and music to politics, environmentalism, humor, and personal essays. However, the format lends itself to the voices of the marginalized, as zine creators are empowered to write, print, and distribute whatever they want, completely bypassing the gatekeeping process of a publisher.
Uy believes what makes the Prairieland Nine case uniquely troubling is the fact that a majority of evidence used against the defendants focused heavily on forms of communication rather than actions.
The case is the first of its kind to be prosecuted under Trump’s National Security Presidential Memorandum 7, an executive order (“Countering Domestic Terrorism and Organized Political Violence”) that targets what the Trump administration terms “extremism” on migration, race, and gender.
Under the executive order, the Trump administration has classified anti-fascist activity — sometimes referred to in the collective as “antifa,” a decentralized, leaderless anti-fascist movement — as “a domestic terrorist organization.” However, given its lack of formal membership or any organizational body, who is designated as “a member of Antifa” is subject to open interpretation.
“It feels really scary, and it feels really intense, but we also have to remember that what they’re doing to the Prairie Land defendants and to protesters and organizers is time-tested on generations of people,” Uy said. “We shouldn’t necessarily see what’s happening in a vacuum, because it very much has been applied to many people before, and probably will continue if we don’t take note of what has worked in the past and act accordingly.”
Amanda Bernal with Burn All Books, a risograph publisher and studio founded in 2017 that works with local San Diego- and Tijuana-based artists and writers, also voiced concern over the federal government’s criminalization of free speech — but she added that it is not unprecedented.
“Frankly, it’s terrifying, but not incredibly surprising considering our history as a nation during periods like the Red Scare,” Bernal said. “People were being blacklisted and arrested based on rumors or even being in possession of communist literature…. These are the actions of a government scrambling to maintain control of the status quo and squash dissent.”
However, Bernal doesn’t anticipate changing the kind of work Burn All Books focuses on, and believes that it is even more important now to continue making work that speaks truth to power and engages the politically disenfranchised.
“Our job is to respond to the needs of our community with whatever means available to us, and if that is radical, it is only because the state has decided this is so,” Bernal said. “Although this is a particularly heavy-handed and crude administration, this country has never been kind to those who loudly reject imperialism.
“Things have been bad for many of us for a very long time… Artists will continue to hold a mirror to society as we always have, whether by being politically incendiary, or silly and crude, or inventive and transformative.”
Bernal says that Burn All Books will be moving from its current location on Adams Ave. to its new home at the WOO in Barrio Logan, where the collective will have more room to provide programming such as workshops, shows, talks, and screenings.
Bernal added that in September, Burn All Books will also co-host the 4th Compressed Zine & Music Fair in partnership with the community internet radio station Particle.FM, which will take place at Bread & Salt Gallery.
It will be one in a series of events. On Saturday, the Radical History Club and advocacy group Hello Barkada helped organize a Zine + Print Fair at the Chicano Park Museum to help raise funds and awareness for the Prairieland defendants.
The Trump administration has signaled that the Prairieland case will not be the last of its kind. Despite this, creators believe that the White House’s attempts to criminalize dissenting speech only further illustrate the urgency for others to get involved.
“I think there’s always kind of a danger to this knowledge because this history or the truth of what happened in the past wasn’t just kept from us by omission,” Uy said. “Any of us who carry these stories or have the capacity to share this knowledge are also in the crosshairs or have the possibility of the same thing happening to us.
“But if you really want to build systems that sustain life instead of destruction and criminalization, you have to realize that we are all going to have to take a risk at some point.”
