RadianceDangerfield
Cindy Milstein (they)Freshly birthed zine: “Shades of Love”
I actually wrote this “new” one in spring–summer 2012 for a pal’s anarchist anthology on love, but they never ended up publishing the book. So at long last, I’ve turned it into a zine. May it touch your heart in these icy-unloving christofascist times!
As always, my zines are labors of love, freely gifted, for you to freely share. DM me your email for readable and print-ready PDFs.
On a strictly voluntary basis, in this case it would warm my weary heart if you’d contribute $5 or more to your favorite anarchist(ic) labor-of-love project, whether to a bail or abortion fund, mutual aid or solidarity (not charity) effort, or collective space.
This zine is less “practical” than other recent ones, and more of a poetic, hopefully tender “love letter” of sorts from me to you, my sweet fellow rebels.
Thx to @dioishh for the gorgeous cover art, @_hey_casandra_ for kindly turning my layout into PDFs yet again, and @the_bejeweled_narwhal for this lovely photo!
Excerpt from the zine’s opening:
“When I was a little kid, we had this big weeping willow tree in our backyard, and when it was in full bloom, its slender overhanging branches would form a porous pale-green umbrella arching from sky to ground with expansive space underneath. Open space. Yet delicately screened too.
From inside, seated on the gently compacted earth, you could see outside, softly, through the millions of little leaves playing gaily as the wind touched them. You could look outward through tiny peepholes, which in turn let in winking shapes of light like stars on a crystal-clear night, with each glimmer held in the embrace of the shadows cast by leaf after leaf.
I recently asked my six-year-old bio-niece what she meant by the word love, which she says several times a day to her mom, and she responded matter-of-factly, ‘Love is all that’s good.’ She doesn’t have a weeping willow in her Orlando-sprawl backyard; only crunchy-dry grass and a too-small palm tree and blindingly unmediated sunshine.
Still, maybe my niece is onto something.”
