At the end of 2018, I was convinced it was the end of the world. Everyone around me was talking about climate change anxieties and predicting that the earth didn't have long and we were all going to die soon enough. Having grown up in Evangelical Christianity, spending my life fearing that any day now Jesus would come back and it would be the end of the world, I lived in a panicked haze all over again; suicidal, afraid, certain that there was no way out. And so, I did what I always did: I started writing. For a hundred days, from the end of November of 2018, to early March of 2019, I wrote an entry a day, sitting at my typewriter, trying to write my way out of the feelings of the end of the world, taking a critical look at the harm and uselessness of it. Each issue covers a chunk of these daily entries, all retyped & edited for better clarity.
The title is self-explanatory, but these zines are my attempt at describing the things I've lost as a survivor of child abuse. I'm trying to talk about things that I feel like never get said: the relationships you lose, your sense of reality, in future zines I want to write about sexuality and autonomy.
There was just a brief pocket of time where metoo felt like it was by and for survivors. It worked, when the predators were the other side of us, when the men who were being held accountable were those men, over there. And then there were survivors in our midst, calling on predators in our midst, and the think pieces came back, the discomfort people had with survivors anger and survivors calls for justice.
That's the landscape that I wrote this zine in. I am an ex-Evangelical Pentecostal. There are people who describe themselves as "spiritual but not religious," there are people who describe themselves as "religious but not spiritual" and then there's me, who would describe myself as "Pentecostal but not Christian" "neither spiritual, nor religious, but still somehow a believer in the power of prayer."
There's a piece in Angry Prayers with the line, "I am here, I am real, I am alive." That was a chant I whisper-screamed out, walking up and down the streets of my neighborhood, at midnight on my 33rd birthday. I konw the power of prayer, of chants, of repetition. The words that you sink into your head and your heart, the reassurances you give yourself that you need to be told over and over again. The power of rhyme and rhythm and song, the way it sinks into your body. Scripture and song, poetry and prayer, these were always tools for building yourself a place to stand.
So with that said, this zine has prayers of anger. Prayers of vengeance and fury, but also prayers of hope, prayers for life, prayers for autonomy. They're simple, and I hope, if you need some better words to counteract your abuser's voice, I hope these can override them, and get stuck in your head.
In a similar vein to Anger Prayers for Furious Survivors, Hold Onto My Anger is a zine I wrote with the hope of connecting with other survivors. When I was first acknowledging that I was abused, I didn't know how to be angry. I'd never been angry for myself, and no one had ever been angry for me. The first time friends expressed hurt and rage for what was done to me, I was suprised at how...good it felt. I finally understood that anger itself is morally neutral as a concept, and in the right context, anger is love. Isn't being angry on behalf of injustice, on behalf of the pain inflicting on others, a way we show how much we care?
So if you're a survivor, and you want someone to be angry for you, I've got a lot to spare. Take this zine, and with it, hold onto all the anger in my heart for what was done to you.
Getting Through When it's (not) the End of the World
At the start of the pandemic, I wrote a blog post detailing strategies I've used to get through the very many times I've been convinced that it was the 3end of the world and there was no future or hope for me. I turned that into a zine, and then eventually *this* zine, which is less pandemic focused, and more generalized. These aren't strategies for health, necessarily, but for survival, the things that I've done not to fight the feelings of that it is the end of the world, but to try and outlast them.