[ID: Two images, each with four pages of a black and white zine compiled.
Cover page: The title reads "Grrrl Scouts" in all caps alongside an illustration of a scout doing the classic three-fingered salute. She wears a sash that says, "The revolution starts in your community." This zine is by Kitt and it is Issue #1.
Page one has the title "Things Grrrlscouts can do together" in all caps, with the suggestions "Create community, protect and uplift each other," "Share valuable skills such as how to change your oil or sew your own clothes," "Raise money for mutual aid," "Protect one another from abusers, walk in groups at night, make this city safer for women and femmes," and "Give each other badges for acts of female resistance."
Page two is an illustration of a face with "No forced birth, abortions now" written in all caps around it.
Pages three and four constitute an essay titled "The Boy Who Made Me Mean," styled in all capitals. The essay is written in all lowercase and is as follows:
"the house was simple and intimidatingly clean. i kicked my shoes off before i could step on the welcome mat.
his room was sterile. a perfectly made twin size bed tucked in the corner. his desk held a pc and impressively large speakers. a small closet that allotted for his limited wardrobe. he searched for obscure music and let it play while he laid in his bed. it was a set up that seemingly only allowed for this one activity.
i figured once we were alone i would get to see the rest of him. id seen him in crowds where he refrained from self expression, but revealed just enough to lure me in. i asked what else he liked to do. he said he didn't know. i prodded out likes, dislikes, hobbies, dreams, but it all came back to just listening to music in bed. sometimes he would read wikipedia, he said, but he wasn't a reader and lacked the patience to endure a whole book. he didn't understand my references. he didn't even watch films, much less popular television. i was dumbfounded at how little this boy i perceived as interesting seemed to care about anything. however, as a scatter brained mess who called it creativity, i was amazed at his organization and simplicity.
the boy was twenty two and he wasn't allowed to eat in his room. he didn't eat much at all, seemingly disconnected from his body and lacking most desires. i got hungry after lunch and convinced him to grab some pretzels and hummus with me. my outside coffee cup felt like an intruder in the home but he never wanted to be anywhere else.
he didn't insist on driving or understand the point of friendships but once offered a ride he'd explore the world in front of him. he'd talk to anyone, eager to show off the database of information he'd picked up from wikipedia and music reviews. he'd occasionally get too drunk at parties and cry about who he was until he threw up on the floor. i, of course, didn't know any of this.
i watched him stuff himself until it hurt at a mexican restaurant near his suburban home. he didn't seem to have desire unless it was right in front of him in which case, he couldn't help himself. more rounds, more chips, no leftovers, until he got home to his quiet vacuum of a life.
i watched the sun set outside the window by his bed, feeling a new numbness grow in myself. he told me he was sorry, but he just couldn't help himself. he cried in my arms. he cried in my voicemails. he'd call 10 times in a row. he'd cry for me to my friends. he cried in texts, even resorting to paypal messages. every day i woke up to his begging and blaming and every night i turned my phone off so i could sleep.
when i was in 2nd grade i sat next to a boy in class. he would torture me all day and laugh while i did nothing. he'd taunt me with names, hit me under the desk, write on my papers, and take my things. i eventually told him that if he didn't stop, i would have to tell the teacher. i said this because i knew it was what you were supposed to say, but the words leaving my mouth sounded so needlessly cruel, as if the moral thing to do was let him hurt me in peace.
he unsurprisingly did it again, and again, and again. i finally had enough and made my way towards the teachers desk. i glanced back and saw him, eyes watering and lip curling. i stopped. i couldn't bring myself to harm him like that. i turned around before the teacher could even acknowledge me. the moment i sat down, his frown turned mischievous and he scribbled all over my paper.
i told his mom. I texted her. she never responded but it was quiet after that."
Page five has a black and white photo of Audre Lorde smelling a flower.
Page six has a quote from Lorde in all caps that reads, "I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own."
The back cover reads "Join today!" in all caps with the smaller "Add to your jacket, hats, bags, sashes!" beside a patch with the three-finger Girl Scout salute that says "I'm a Grrrl Scout!" in all caps. There are scissors around the patch indicating that it should and can be cut out and worn.
