I made a zine.
Okay so, technically, I made it a couple months ago. Which tells you something about me because I have a habit of making a thing, being excited about it, and then almost immediately turning my attention toward whatever I want to make next.
In my world, there’s always another essay, book idea, event, or project sitting in my Notes app begging for attention. I’m realizing I haven’t always been very good at staying with what I’ve made long enough to really enjoy it, talk about it, or remind people that it exists.
So, before I run off and make another thing, I want to come back for this one.
I’m lying, y’all. I’ve already made the next thing. But I’m going to do better… promise.
Womanist Wonder, Issue 01: Gathering Ourselves started as an experiment. The phrase “womanist wonder” came from one of my writing instructors, who used it to describe my work. It stayed with me because it named something I’d already been reaching toward. I followed it into a literary zine filled with essays, photographs, womanist thought, pieces of the archive, and reflections on the Black women who’ve shaped my thinking.
If you made it here to Womanist Wonder from Come Celebrate With Me or Socialight Society, you probably already know a little bit about the zine. How all of that became all of this is a whole other post. For now, just know that Gathering Ourselves was one of the first places I could actually see my work beginning to gather itself. Pun intended.
Since making it, I’ve taken copies with me to festivals and pop-ups. I’m usually there as a bookseller, sharing and promoting the work of Black women, but people almost always ask me where my work is. It’s right here.
Everything I create doesn’t have to arrive ready to change the world, but it also doesn’t have to disappear the minute I finish making it.
So this is me putting Gathering Ourselves back on the table.
I made it. I’m proud of it. And it’s still here.
And before you ask, yes, copies are available online. I’d love to send you one.
Womanist Wonder, Issue 01: Gathering Ourselves is $13, shipping included.
And now I’m wondering about you.
What have you made, finished, or become that you moved past too quickly?
Perhaps this is your reminder to go back and sit with it for a minute. Celebrate it. Share it again. Let it keep living.
I’m trying to do the same.
Nyshell Watson is a Michigan-based writer, filmmaker, and story keeper. Her work includes essays, poetry, and documentary storytelling centered on Black women’s lives and stories.
Still wondering?
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