The foldable zine, described by creator, activist, and brand strategist consultant Nicole Moore as a “love note to Black women,” features symbolic art, encouraging messages, and quotes from Black women writers and creators.
“Nah sis—you’re a big deal. Stand in that. Own that. Believe that. Trust in that,” reads the front page of the zine.
Moore says the inspiration for the zine came from a series of dreams, saturating her with a vision to uplift Black women through a creative project. “I was called to do it. I felt like I had to do it. I can’t really even put it into words,” she said. “I would dream about having a magazine or some kind of pamphlet or a zine, something that I wanted to give out to Black women.”
She also cites her personal experiences with self-doubt as inspiration.
“I ended up being terminated from my job in the fall of 2021, and that termination, I took it on as a personal failure, forgetting who I was, forgetting that I really had so many accomplishments while I worked there,” she said. “This was my way to resist all of that b**s**. It’s become my language to say, no, that is not our truth. That is not of us, and I’m reminding everybody else.”
The nontraditional structure of zines appeals to her—she views it as a powerful symbol of liberation. “[Zines] come out of a radical notion of doing it yourself, not sticking to any kind of traditional rules around what publishing looks like,” she said. “I can do it on my own terms. I can do it how I want. I can make it look the way I want.”
In the zine, Moore encourages readers to make copies and distribute them as part of the social experiment. The zine’s distribution relies on communal support, as she doesn’t charge for it.
“…if you love this, I don’t want you to say, ‘Hey, can you send me another one?’” she said. “Just unfold it and make a copy of it, and you can give it out yourself. It gives other individuals the same type of power and agency that I have to make another woman feel good about herself.”
For artist and educator Adama Delphine Fawundu, whose artwork is featured in the zine, the shareable element of the project makes it even more meaningful.
“Knowing that it’s not something that has to be so immediate—five years from now, I could make copies, ten years [from now] I could continue to make copies of this thing and send it— just shows that it’s for the community and it’s really for our future,” Fawundu said. “(It’s) like a nice little something to read [and] to make us think more about who we are, particularly as Black women.”
Fawundu’s artwork displays her back covered in words written in white paint, which she explained are titles projected onto Black women. The piece, she said, is inspired by Nina Simone’s “Four Women” and is called “What Do They Call Me, My Name is Aunt Sara.”
“I wanted to break the boundary—this idea of the strong Black woman—what does that actually mean? All of these things that we’re supposed to carry on our back, but we’re human beings,” she said. “I wanted us also to be reminded that sometimes, it’s like, ‘Oh, you’re so strong,’ but we’re also very soft, and we also need to be cared for.”
Since launching in February, Moore says the response has been largely positive. She first began distributing copies of the zine at a convention in Montgomery, Ala.
“I was giving it out there, and people were stunned. [They] were like, ‘Wait, this is for me?’ And I’m like, ‘Yeah,’ because when I hand it out, I say to people what’s on the cover: ‘Sis, you’re a big deal,’ and immediately that gets their attention,” she said. “I’m like, yeah, I’m talking to you. You’re a big deal, so don’t forget it.”’
She has since distributed the zine in several other places, making Harlem a staple location. Looking toward the future, Moore hopes the project continues to grow. “I’m hoping for bigger and better things and looking for partners to help me do this again; I don’t want it to just be me.”