Track 1: Scream If You’re With Me (We’ll Be Loud Together)

You know that feeling when something shifts in your chest—like your ribs are trying to make room for the truth? That moment when your brain lights up and your body says pay attention? This letter is about that.

She Zine Mag started the way most real things do: by accident, out of spite, and probably while avoiding something important. It wasn’t planned, pitched, or pre-approved. It showed up in Sharpie (Uni-ball, if you want to get specific), scribbled into a Moleskine during a depressive episode and a Tumblr binge. It was passed down the bar to girls who didn’t know they were allowed to want more. It came alive in collective burnout, mutual recognition, and a shared refusal to disappear.

We didn’t test the market. We survived it.
And we wrote everything down.

This magazine is a soft weapon. A crocheted scream. A kiss with too many teeth. It’s an e-zine for the too-much and not-enough. For the weird girls, loud gays, tired punks, quiet freaks, rage poets, feral crafters, leftist fanfic writers, and anyone else the internet forgot. We see you. We are you.

We’re not here to perform polish or chase algorithms. We’re here to remember what it feels like to make something with your hands and your whole damn heart. Glitter, yes. Blood, also yes.

From riot grrrl Xeroxes to fourth-wave feeds, we carry the ink-stained fingerprints of every person who ever made something real out of grief and glue. This is for them. For you. For whatever comes next.

💜 Limited-run printed zines coming soon. Hold tight. 💜

If you’ve ever scrolled through your feed and thought, When did everything start sounding like a brand trying to go viral?—this is your antidote. If you’ve ever whispered where did all the weird girls go?—we didn’t go anywhere. We were just building something better.

We made She Zine for the ones who saved ticket stubs and blog posts. Who clipped liner notes and cried at midnight to songs no one else understood. Who still get high off the smell of thrift stores and fresh photocopies. Who remember what it feels like to staple your guts to a page and call it art.

This is not a lifestyle mag.
Not a Feminism 101 explainer.
Not a shiny brand in the making.
Not content.

It’s a handmade spell disguised as a website.

Inside, you’ll find:
→ love letters and rants
→ practical advice and impractical feelings
→ culture that shaped us, failed us, and what we’re doing about it now
→ satire, soft revolutions, hot takes, old wounds, and the occasional fart joke

This is a mixtape for the people who never fit the algorithm.
And it’s only just getting started.

If you paid to be here: thank you. Not in the ✨creator economy✨ way. In the DIY, passed-the-hat, basement-show, help-keep-the-lights-on kind of way. You didn’t just support a zine. You joined it. You gave it breath. You made it possible for someone else to find it in the dark.

This space is alive. It will evolve. It will contradict itself. It will get things wrong, get things right, and grow through all of it. It might even become a home for people who forgot they needed one.

So no, this isn’t a mission statement.

It’s a dare.
It’s a ripple.
It’s a post-it on your mirror that says make something anyway.

And if you’ve been following along, you’ll know this issue almost didn’t happen.

There were delays—months of them. Almost a year. In the middle of pulling this together, I broke my leg (in multiple places) and lost three people I love. Grief took the air out of everything. My focus shifted to survival: helping friends, caring for family, learning how to walk again, trying not to lose my mind in bed. There were days when this zine felt like a joke. Like hot-gluing rhinestones to a sinking ship.

But I kept making. Not because I had the energy—but because I needed to remember that I could.

This issue was built on painkillers, late-night drafts, and whispered pep talks to the ceiling. It’s not perfect. Neither are we. That’s the whole point.

She Zine isn’t powered by hustle. It’s powered by heartbreak, humour, and whoever’s still standing.
That includes you.
You made this possible.
You’re why this exists.

And I’m so fucking glad you’re here.

Love, rage, and staples,
AXO
Editor, She Zine Mag

Call for Contributors

She Zine Mag is looking for diverse voices.
If you’re BIPOC, LGBTQ2S+, disabled, neurodivergent, or just tired of the same stories being told — send us yours.
We want sharp, weird, unapologetic work.

– Join the newsletter
– Submit your story