Interview: Jordan Alam

Addressing Race in White DIY Spaces

Hi Jordan! Can you tell us a little bit about yourself and how you became a (now former) coordinator for the Brooklyn Zine fest?

Hi there! My bio says that I’m a Bengali American artist, activist, and doula who currently works out of NYC. To expand on it a little bit, I am particularly interested in healing work and art as forms of activism, through which we not only take care of ourselves to best do other work, but also imagine a world that we want to live in. To that end, I keep a blog called The Cowation for my own work and founded Project As[I]Am, an Asian American social justice online publication, to pump up radical Asian American artists and activists online.

I was previously the panel coordinator for the Brooklyn Zine Fest, which I was invited back to do after I had a successful run during the 2014 fest. I won’t go into the long version of the story, since it’s written up here in my (much more detailed) statement, but I felt really aware of the marginalization of zinesters of color, both personally and on a group level, through a meeting with the other BZF organizers (both white people) where they make the claim that their zine fest is ‘apolitical’ and the subsequent cutting of a Black Lives Matter panel proposal.

What does it look like to be an Asian American person in solidarity with black people against police violence?

Amongst my co-editors at As[I]Am and other folks involved on the site, we’ve been having a lot of discussions about what it means to be in solidarity with black people in a way that’s both respectful and doesn’t try to overshadow (Asian Americans do definitely experience police violence, such as with surveillance on South Asian folks, but not in the same magnitude or ways that black people have experienced it). We hosted an Asian American-focused teleconference to discuss our positionality because it’s really complicated trying to work against anti-blackness in our own communities.

In this particular instance, my reasoning was that I had the power to offer a paid speaking opportunity to black folks doing rad work in their communities, and I wanted to step back and let those voices be heard. As POC Zine Project has pointed out, it’s a lot of emotional labor to educate folks, but I hoped that by having compensation and trying to make sure that the people involved were excited/not burnt out.

What was the reaction you received when you proposed a “Black Lives Matter,” zinester panel?

Not good. I first proposed 4 panels, one of which was the Black Lives Matter panel, amidst others such as intergenerational zine making, writing on uncomfortable topics, and incarceration. The panel on incarceration was immediately struck out; they said that they wanted to keep it to the people who were tabling (even though I had come prepared with a list of people who could talk on that topic).

Then we came to the Black Lives Matter panel, which — as I say in my statement — made them feel the need to say that they are an ‘apolitical zine fest’ and reference an unrelated incident at the 2013 Anarchist Book Fair that turned to violence. The implication was that talking about political topics would make people uncomfortable at best, and turn violent at worst.

I chose to compromise when they said we could ‘take the politics out of it’ and do a Black Zines Matter panel (which seemed tokenizing, considering not every black zinester writes on the same thing and it’s co-opting the language of BLM), but I hoped that we could change the title and still have a rad discussion. Then they cut the panel 2 weeks later over email, and I resigned.

Why do you think you received such a response?

I was really shocked actually — I came into the meeting (with The Black Women Matter zine) knowing that I might receive some hesitation. But I didn’t know there would be a direct shutdown of the initial idea.

In their response to the statement I released last week, they go on to say they were reacting to a panel that seemed “anti-police” rather than about black people, and that I was “aggressive” in my tone and resignation email.

I’m disheartened about this response because it personally attacks me/makes me seem not credible and also minimizes how affected black communities are by policing by saying that we can only talk about certain aspects of black life, but not that issue. I think I articulated well to them in my resignation email why their words were so hurtful; I said:

“the only people who can ignore or deny that they participate in systems of oppression are those privileged enough to have power supported by structural inequality.”

I am happy that they brought the panel back and that those rad creators will have a space to speak, despite the response not being super great. I also am happy for the organizing that we are doing to keep DIY communities accountable to POC voices in future events — that was a great thing to come out of this not-so-great moment.

From your past experiences at Brooklyn Zine Fest, what was the general demographic break down? In other words, is it a very white space?

The organizers themselves admit that they have been criticized for being a ‘mainly white zine fest’, and that was also my experience any year I’ve tabled or worked on panels.

How long have you been in the zine scene? Do you feel like it has changed since you started and how so?

I have been involved with zines in different capacities for for 8 years — first having made my own zines, then volunteered at ZAPP in Seattle and worked at the Barnard Zine Library for 4 years, and finally doing the odd workshop and event program for zine fests.

What are your favorite zines and why?

That’s a really hard one because I have read thousands of zines by this point! Can I give you a genre instead? I really like perzines (personal zines) that are about peoples’ lived experiences and connect them to the larger world. There are definitely some fabulous mental health zines that go into way more intersectional discussion than I’ve seen in most books.

Who inspires you politically and why?

Another hard one! I’d say that would have to be Grace Lee Boggs, for her deep commitment to working in Detroit at every level of the political process and always looking towards new ideas even as she got older. I’d also say I’m inspired by so many of my friends who are artist activists and are too often not rewarded or acknowledged for the work they do.

What kind of advice can you give to social justice inclined zinesters?

My advice is pretty cliché — it starts with ‘the personal is political,’ which is my justification and entry point into doing perzines. My healer self also wants to tell everyone that you are the work — you are serving not only other people in your communities, your families, your friend groups, but you are serving yourself. So self-care and community care are ways to model the world that you want to live in, and it should be taken very seriously.

Is there anything else you’d like to share?

Thanks for letting me do this interview! I want to emphasize that this panel does not do the on the ground work of eliminating police violence. The real work is being done by activists on the ground. The panel I proposed was meant to have a discussion about how arts and activism come together around a particular political moment, the Black Lives Matter movement. The aim was (and still is) to elevate black artist voices and give the audience ideas/methods about how to engage in this work in their own communities. A panel is not an ideal format, yet giving a platform to marginalized voices was how I saw myself in solidarity. Finding ways to best be in solidarity is hard, but it’s absolutely necessary. Find ways you can do so amongst your own people. Here’s a list of suggestions. Feel free to share your thoughts and suggestions!