Analog Activism: The Denver Zine Library

At the heart of the Denver metro area is the RiNo ArtPark, the shared space of the RedLine Contemporary Arts Center and Bob Ragland library branch. Enter the library, follow the stairs up to the second floor, and you’ll find a treasure trove of papers of all shapes, sizes, and colors. 

Image credits: Denver Zine Library

The Denver Zine Library, founded in 2003, currently houses one of the largest zine collections in North America, according to their website. Reliant on volunteer-staffing, they are only open from 10-5 on Saturdays. Visitors are able to check out up to five zines for up to three weeks at a time. 

Don’t have a Denver library card? No problem! Patrons borrowing zines do so by writing their name and email down on clipboard. You don’t even have to live in the Denver metro area to borrow. The DZL accepts returns (and zine donations) via mail. 

If you’re unfamiliar, a zine (pronounced ZEEN) is an independently-published work that usually circulates less than 1,000 copies. There are many different types of zines, but all zines are usually created out of a desire to “share knowledge or experience with people in marginalized or otherwise less-empowered communities,” according to the Barnard Zine Library.

The DZL was initially founded in 2003 when Jamez Terry and Kelly Shortandqueer moved to Denver with a personal collection of over 2,000 zines, according to the DZL website. 

Despite the passion of its volunteer, and supporters, the journey of the DZL has not been without struggle. Combating high rental costs in the city, DZL relocated 5 times before finding a home at the Bob Ragland library branch in 2022. Since the beginning, the DZL has worked to spread public awareness and knowledge about zines. They are currently working on developing a digital collection. 

I was finally able to pay a visit to the DZL over winter break. A small group of volunteers welcomed my partner and I. Some were clad in reusable face masks, and one sported vibrantly cerulean dyed hair. They were all gathered around a small round table assembling zines by hand, warmly conversing about an upcoming political protest. 

A basket of scissors, glue, and staplers sat on a shelf by the door next to stacks of printer paper and colored cardstock and a long-arm stapler. Above these sat a boldly advertised pile of “FREE STUFF!”: the most recent issue of Slingshot and some copies of a zine on asexual allyship.

Bookshelves lined each wall, packed with overflowing cardboard magazine holders. Some of these were labeled with Post-It notes emblazoned with thick black Sharpie: DIY/COOKING is shelved next to ANARCHY, FEMINISM, and ANARCHO FEMINISM. LGBTQ and HARM REDUCTION are shelved across from several rows of MUSIC.

We were encouraged to grab a holder or two, to take them out into the library and read. For a couple of hours, we did just that. We perused through cooking zines, gathering low-budget vegan recipes. We flipped through almost a hundred feminist zines with publication dates ranging from the late nineties to last year. 

I was surprised by the continued relevance of this piece from 2007 (pictured right).

My visit to the Denver Zine Library was especially timely. In a cultural moment increasingly rife with political tension, I find my relationship with social media only ever gets worse. I feel obligated to stay informed, to receive and repost information from local mutual aid groups, and most of all to distract myself in the easiest way possible: mindless scrolling.

Last week, I heard award-winning author R. F. Kuang speak at an event in Dallas about her novel Babel: Or the Necessity of Violence. Kuang spoke about the themes of political violence in her writing. Although we may all agree as a society that violence of any kind is morally wrong, she said, it is sometimes the only recourse we have to a situation of even more structural violence. 

When asked for the best advice she could give to the audience, Kuang urged listeners to spend less time online. We can’t change anything by scrolling, she argued. This advice was the final push I needed to delete my social media accounts and embrace analog activism. 

My visit to the Denver Zine Library reminded me that the political and social justice issues I have spent much of my young adult life thinking, writing, and speaking about have existed long before I have. Holding decades-old zines by feminist artists in Texas felt like holding hands with my foremothers. Beyond that, revisiting the writing of Angela Davis has reminded me what activism looked like in a time before the internet, showing me that activism happens on the ground, not just online.

With ongoing concerns about AI, censorship, and changing social media policies, many users have left Meta’s Facebook and Instagram in a “mass exodus,” says NBC News. For more information about the Meta censoring pro-Palestine voices, listen to this podcast from Al Jazeera from 2024, or read this piece from Human Rights Watch from 2023.

If you’re like me and are also curious about getting off of social media but staying informed and engaged in the community, you need to get more into zines. How to Get Off Social Media and Still Keep In Touch With Your Friends by Sylvia Friday and published by Microcosm is a great zine to start with. The Dallas College Library has also assembled this web page for more information about accessing online and physical zines in the DFW metroplex.