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The Birth of Bitch King: Issue #1 |
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Sample pages of Bitch King #1 are available on
the stuff page. I wanted my zine to
give voice to feminist issues that donÕt get talked about, but I also wanted to
encourage others to write and publish their own zines as well. To encourage
others to do it themselves, I decided that the overall aesthetic of the zine
had to have an Òanyone can do thisÓ feel. One way to show this was to ignore
my perfectionist instincts and leave in crooked and torn pictures, to let the
lines where I pasted in text show, and in the printing process, to leave in
smudges and fingerprints. To really get my point across, I decided my letter
from the editor at the beginning of the zine should use certain stylistic and
rhetorical techniques to make my agenda obvious. ÒI am hoping to see more
zines and chapbooks in the (909)Ó seemed the most effective way to weave
ethos, pathos and logos into my call for more independent self-publishing. By
stating, ÒIÕll start, ok?Ó I show that I will not only be using a
conversational tone in my writing, but that IÕm not just talking about
something I want, I am doing something about itÑtaking action! Then, I go on
to persuade my readers to create a zine of their own, using some examples
that I see as primary motivators to action. I wanted to show that zine
publishing is a way to gain respect, recognition, power, and connections with
people. When my readers flip the
page, the first text that they encounter is the poem that starts off ÒÕI
think IÕm gonna start/ livinÕ life on my feet.ÕÓ I placed this poem first
because it echoes the previous page, showing my audience a verbal call to
action. My zine builds upon
some aesthetics I have carried with me for years, the most important of these
being the juxtaposition of image and word. Take, for instance, the
ÒhaikuÓ(syllable pattern 9,7,9) that starts with a sumo wrestler Òspeaking,Ó
then finishes by writing on his back. This piece plays with subjectivity,
form, and political content and straddles the line between collage and poem.
By making the object of our gaze speak the first line of my poem, I play with
the idea of intertextuality within speaking subjects, our words being
responses to (and modeled after) the texts that shape our perceptions (a
personal nod here to comics and comic books). In effect, this piece shows my
view of art: art is a creation by any force in the universe that can be
interpreted in multiple ways. Yes, that means everything is art. The specific
aim here is to show how art takes on political content and thus becomes a
form of protest. In a culture that asks us to consume and to channel our
creative impulses into consumption, making art (and writing, and especially
making a zine) is an act of subversion, of protest. Of course, there are
more overt examples of political protest in the column titled ÒAngelaÕs Pet
Peeve.Ó Every issue of my zine will explore the ways that language is
ideology; this particular issue deals with Òusing ÔheÕ as a universal
pronoun.Ó I use texts I found as examples of the problem. I try to juxtapose
an associative form of organization with a clear (and even forceful) agenda.
I assume that sexist language is a problem, and I donÕt spend time convincing
my audience or providing evidence. Instead I focus on the solutions: using
the plural form or using ÒSHEÑthe new and improved ÔsexistÕ universal!Ó With a zine, I can use
my own handwriting to establish ethos by emphasizing a DIY style. This is the
case with the letter from the editor in the beginning, as well as all of the
ÒrantsÓ and some of the poetry. The handwriting in ÒThe Eyes Are the Vagina
of the FaceÓ maintains the organic nature of the work, and the handwriting in
ÒOde to My TeapotÓ conveys the personal nature of the poem, an aspect that
may be overlooked in a more traditionally typeset poem (unless I specifically
said Òhey, this is personal!Ó). I use my handwriting to give a glimpse of the
personal, like I ripped a page out of my journal and copied it for everyone
to see. That is my aim for
making all the ÒrantsÓ handwritten: ÒWhat Women Really WantÓ explores
how media attempts to dictate the goals and values of women. I juxtapose the
typeset aesthetic of the corporate magazine with my handwriting, trying to
counter, stylistically, what readers usually consider authoritative (anything
in print!). The personal voice here, as represented by my handwriting,
overshadows the normative ÒneutralityÓ of printed type. This stylistic device
works (I think) to rhetorically situate my readers on my side, the side that critiques and talks back to
the hegemony of popular media. It also gives me the opportunity to use
symbols, such as the heart, thus creating layers of meaning (as some scholars
have equated the heart symbol with female genitals). This leads readers to
the conclusion that I take in the text: that although this piece is
supposedly ÒreportsÓ on the results of a Òstudy,Ó the masked patriarchal
agenda becomes clear; this article is meant to reinforce some womenÕs desires
to attain the ÒperfectÓ body. I take a decidedly militant stance against this
propaganda, showing readers that there are women who refuse to buy into
societal values that serve to incapacitate and silence women. I firmly
believe, as I point out, that womenÕs energies and dreams are funneled into
self-destructive ideas and behavior in order to subjugate us. The personal is
indeed political in a society where the first step in body image revolution
is to love yourself. Immediately after turning the page, readers find Òthe Universal Body,Ó where a plain body accompanies text that reads, ÒYou can dress me up as a girl or a boy!Ó I wanted my readers to think about what codes we use to ÒperformÓ genderÑwhat would you add to the universal body to ÒexpressÓ who you are? A dress? Or a pair of boots? Or both? What kinds of symbols do we use to Òput onÓ our identities? Also, more interesting to me is the representation of a ÒsexlessÓ body as being ÒunfinishedÓ or Òincomplete.Ó I wrote the phrase ÒDo you know who you are?Ó next to it to highlight the introspection I hope will take place as my readers contemplate how our society constructs gender. |