For a person with untreated ADHD and disabilities that limit me, I am surprisingly good at organizing. I don't wanna toot my own horn here, but I have an ability to get a lot of people to come together. From parties to shows to activism, I can pack a house.
A big part of that is having excellent collaborators. Recognizing my limits and asking for help meant more could get done. From my co-host Lia (whose strengths are all my weaknesses), to my partners who helped me load and unload the car, to the venue owners who were invested in our success, to the other business owners who let me put flyers in their windows. Making things for a community means making things with a community.
Still, every event I do, in the days leading up to it, I think that this is going to be the one that fails, and it's going to be my fault. A large part of this is the nature of using Facebook to organize things. 20 people RSVP, which means either 5 people show up or 50. We live in noncommittal times, and also times when people have no energy or money to leave the house half the time. One of the things I always remind myself that any event I do, I am in competition with a simultaneous event called "I can stay at home and lay on the couch and watch internet porn and I don't have to put on pants or spend any money." It's hard to compete with that, so we do a lot of work to make become the better option.
Last night I held my first meetup of the Lansing Zine Project, which is about gathering Michiganders together to collaborate on using self publishing to distribute vital information to our local communities. It was a Tuesday night, and the weather was 0°F. A night that most of us would prefer to be snuggled under some blankets next to a space heater and not have to brush a foot of snow off the car and drive on unplowed streets to get there. And yet, people turned up. Lots of people. Many more than I expected. I had reserved the large 8-person table at the venue, thinking maybe we could annex another table next to it if we needed to. We ended up needing 8 tables. All in all, we had about 40-50 people come through. 40-50 people who wanted to be part of this enough to put on pants, and then another pair of pants over that, three pairs of socks, two pairs of gloves, six sweaters, a hat, and a scarf.
A large group of people gathered and started making incredible zines. It was better than I even dared to dream. I'm writing about how I accomplished this, both as a reminder to myself that I should stop doubting myself, and as a guide for others hoping to organize similar events. (I've had a bunch of people ask already.) I'm going to go over what I did, as well as what I want to do better next time.
Accessibility
If you want a lot of people to come to your event, you first have to make it so they can come. A big reason I was doing the event in the first place is because, as a disabled person with no money, there's very few ways in which I can help people sometimes. I have no money to donate, and no ability to do physical labor. I can't march in the streets when I can barely walk from one end of the house to the other. But disabled folks still want to help in whatever ways we can. (Also, even if someone has no way to help, we should include them because they're one of the people we're fighting for.) So I knew I had to do what I could to make sure it was accessible.
It was free. Activism should never include a cover charge. While we encouraged people to bring their own art supplies, us organizers provided everything someone might need. Free free free. And a big part of why we're making zines in particular is that they're so cheap to make, you can give them away for free without it being a big financial burden.
Masks were mandatory. Most people showed up with masks, and those that didn't put up zero fuss when we handed them one. If anyone had argued, they would have been asked to leave. By including someone who refused to mask, we would end up excluding our disabled comrades. Part of organizing is recognizing that you are going to have to protect your vulnerable members. The paradox of tolerance also applies to inclusivity. You cannot include someone whose presence will exclude the people you actually want to be there. You can't include TERFs if you also want to include trans people. You can't include racists and expect POC to show up. Including one homophobe might mean ten queer people don't show up. So you can't include anti-maskers if you want disabled people to show up.
The venue was a two story building with no stairs leading into the building. Since there was no elevator to the second floor, I made sure to reserve the downstairs. While the upstairs had the biggest table (and remember, I was thinking we only needed one big table), I wanted to include people who couldn't use the stairs. I'm extra glad I did, because I ended up being one of those people, thanks to a fibro flare and two injured knees. I saw a few other canes in the crowd as well. We also had a mix of high and low tables/chairs.
I also typed up everything I was going to talk about for people who might have hard a hard time hearing me, especially with my mouth covered by a mask. Some people also learn better if they can read the information. I mean heck, that's a big part of why we're making zines! I'm also going to make it available for people who were not able to come at all, because when it comes to activism, I don't want to gatekeep this knowledge. (You can read all my notes here.) I'm not here to build a following of people who have to come to me and only me for knowledge. My job is to get this knowledge to people because it's important knowledge. I even looked up dyslexic-friendly fonts to type the info with. A big reason why I bold some phrases when I write is because it has been shown to improve reading comprehension. I provided a bunch of visual aids as well as further reading. Whatever it takes to help as many people learn as possible.
One thing I want to improve for next time is the fact that the venue is a bar. As a sober person myself, I understand that it can be difficult for some people to be in the environment, even if I think they do an excellent job of accommodating non-drinkers. Other people might need a space with no alcohol at all, and the under-21 crowd couldn't come at all. I picked this location because it was available to me, and I didn't have the time/energy/physical ability to talk to other venues. I picked this one because I had an established relationship with them, and because this was where my personal community always gathered. It is a guaranteed queer and trans friendly space run entirely by queer and trans people. I don't want to stop using this venue, but I also want to have events in other venues that don't have alcohol. Accessibility usually means having multiple options for different needs. I'm hoping that I can figure something out before our next meeting, but I'm glad we did what we could with what we had. Perfect is the enemy of done. Waiting to find the perfect venue would end up meaning we had no meeting at all. You do things imperfectly, make mistakes, and do better next time.
Speaking of established relationships...
Combating Cliques
Cliques are essentially small, insular communities that create barriers from establishing wider community. Have you ever shown up to a public event where you don't know anybody but they all know each other? Even extroverts can have a hard time finding their way into an established group, and for a lot of introverts it can be downright impossible. You can't build something without space for it to grow. An in-crowd means an out-crowd, so organizing means breaking down those divisions. It doesn't mean people can't be friends, and it doesn't mean everybody has to be friends with everybody. That's actually toxic. What you're aiming for is respect and friendliness. Openness. A closed system will stagnate.
A first-time event will usually end up including a lot of people you already know. Even in the age of social media and advertising, the best way to get the word out is word of mouth. You tell your friends, and they tell their friends. It can't always be helped. But you have to make sure that you are open to strangers and make them feel just as included.
There were name tags for everybody, and I urged folks to put their pronouns on there. Even for me. In fact, especially for me. Name tags can be one of those little things that can trigger subconscious reactions. A name tags says "I am planning on talking to strangers today." It sets an expectation that not everybody is going to know everybody, so if you don't know everybody (or anybody), it's okay. You're in a group of people who are open to knowing you. And including pronouns makes it so much easier for trans, nonbinary, and GNC folks to relax. It sucks to correct people all the time, and it feels bad to realize you've made a wrong assumption.
Side note about name tags. I used to go to a convention every year in which everyone had their con badge, but underneath you could attach a ribbon that gave a shorthand way to express certain things without having to be asked. Gender, sexuality, openness to flirting. It was a very social convention, so that's what mattered there. For the next zine event, I might make custom name tags that let people signal whether they're open to critique, or collaboration, or if they just wanna do their own thing.
A lot of this also technically falls under accessibility. For neurodivergent folks, social situations can be a minefield. Keeping their (our) needs in mind means more people can show up, and it's also the difference between people coming once and people coming back. I don't want people to be at my events, gritting their teeth until a polite amount of time to excuse themselves and leave. I've been there, so many times. It sucks bad.
As the host, I made sure to talk to every single person who came. Part of this was because I was not just hosting, but teaching, and that means being available for individual attention. But I do this at non-teaching events, too. Even if I can't talk to everyone one-on-one, I can at least make sure to address groups of 3-4 at a time so I can receive feedback from everybody. I have so many ideas for what to do next time, just thanks to talking to people. I did just as much learning as I did teaching. None of that would have happened if I had sat at the big table with just my friends, working on my own zine and leaving everyone else to work things out themselves.
Being a good organizer often means being separate from the action. I didn't end up making a zine. I didn't sit down at all. I was not doing the thing, I was there to help other people do the thing. Because I separated myself from the action of personally making a zine, it means 50 other people made a zine.
One thing I wanted to do better but did not have the ability this time around was being an ambassador to other communities. I didn't just want this to be my friends. For one, I recognize that a good deal of my friends are white, and a good deal of their friends are also white. Black and brown voices are vitally important, and we did not have many at the event. I had intended to set up meetings or at least introductions with other community leaders to collaborate and form alliances, but disability came rearing its ugly head and these things did not get done. That's my biggest disappointment for sure. But it's been in my mind the whole time, even though my body couldn't do it.
Something that didn't come up but I am planning for it is what to do in the face of conflict. Even if not everyone is friends with each other, you're don't want anyone being enemies. If two people can't be civil towards each other, what do you do? The same way you can't have both disabled people and anti-maskers at an event, you're going to have to make choices. If you decide not to take sides, then whoever has the most power just automatically wins. This creates bullies. You have to be comfortable with asking people to leave if it comes to that. You don't want your group to become a Nazi bar. You have to prioritize who you keep safe, and you have to be proactive with it. You have to make sure everyone in the group is comfortable coming to you with their problems, and trusting you to make the right call.
In Conclusion...
I wrote a lot more than I originally intended. My original intent with a thread on Bluesky before I remembered I have a blog again and I can go more in depth with this than 300 characters would ever allow. Also, refer back to the very first sentence of this essay where I mention that I have untreated ADHD.
The long and short of this is that organizing is a lot of work, and more work if you want to do it in an inclusive and healthy way. While I don't think you need to be perfect at it (I know I'm not), I think potential organizers have a responsibility to consider things like this and whether they can rise to the occasion, or if they need to recruit someone else to take the reigns. I didn't do this all by myself. Even with help, it's a lot of work and unseen responsibility. It's also incredibly rewarding and reminds us all that people do want to work together towards common goals and we are not alone.
I was going to write a better conclusion to this, but I couldn't think of one, and rather than waiting for something perfect to come along, I remind myself that "perfect is the enemy of done" and post it anyways.
If you want to get involved with this specific group, we have a FB group for now. (I know, it sucks and we are working on making something better but it takes time.) If you have further questions about starting your own event, feel free to get in touch. Let's spread the zine revolution!
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