AKA a new outlook on life and appreciation for communityBY Gib Manrique  Photo by Jose Romero of live screen printing at PHX Zine Fest, October 26, 2025. Hello, everyone. My name is Gib Manrique, and I had literally never even interacted with a zine before August. This is an interesting point because I am currently an intern at Wasted Ink Zine Distro, and was one of many volunteers helping around this year’s PHX Zine Fest. With these kinds of shiny credentials, one can assume I had been a part of the zine community for years. I, obviously, have not. I am a student at Arizona State University, majoring in Journalism and Mass Communications, which is a very interesting major at a very interesting time in society right now. It seems like the idea of journalism and the standards set by my school’s namesake, Walter Cronkite, have been lost to the bloody canines of capitalism, and grinded into pieces by the 24-hour news cycle. This is all been perpetuated of course, by the issues within our government, such as what occurred on October 15th, when dozens of reporters left the White House following the “government-imposed restrictions on their work,” according to the Associated Press. With the way the world is looking, unless I want to sell my soul to become some rightwing grifter reporting intern, or start creating AI-generated fantasy novels, I am screwed. So, what does this have to do with PHX Zine Fest? Well, I think PZF is the perfect example of what journalism is meant to be and the way journalists should strive to work. This year’s PHX Zine Fest took place on Oct. 25 - 26, 2025, at Rocket Space Gallery in Tempe, AZ. This was a three-day event, with the first day hosting the Art Show Kickoff, followed by two days of the fest, where over 80 vendors gathered in the gallery to sell and trade their art. Zines were filled with anything from song recommendations by trans femme artists, to collages made up of childhood photos. This was my first zine fest. Like I said, I had never made a zine before August, but I had managed to make two in time to sell at the WIZD intern table. This was terrifying, by the way, as I was surrounded by seasoned zine makers. Other zinesters brought dozens of pieces of writing, art prints, stickers, and one person made knitted mushroom or mango bag charms. The array is awe-inspiring. My favorite part was when, at the end of both days, vendors were given 30 minutes to trade zines with each other. The time went fast as people walked around with zines, talking and trading at the same time, after five hours of standing behind their tables. This wasn’t for money and wasn’t mandatory. It happened because everyone wanted to trade. People just liked sharing their work with other people.  Photo by Jose Romero of Gib Manrique at PHX Zine Fest on October 26, 2025. Even during the official fest hours, people were truly in it for the love of the game. I didn’t have enough of my own zines to trade for a zine I wanted with an anteater inside, so I was going to pay. But my friend reached into their pocket, and pulled out their own zine to trade for the one I wanted. In this space of shared information, money, for once, was not the main drive for anyone. Of course people have to make a living, and some survive partly off zine and art sales, but it's the art they live for, not an endless desire for more money. This was something I had been searching for within journalism ever since I started my degree three years ago. All I ever wanted was to share information, really important information, with as many people as possible. I want to share stories and ideas and embrace everyone’s voices who care to share them. In my years of journalistic experiences, PHX Zine Fest is the best way to do it. I hope everyone is able to come to zine fest, even once. It doesn’t have to be this one! If you have a passion for writing or art or information or want to feel the old-timey thrill of screwing with a printing press, consider it. They call me the Walter Cronkite of zines. Because I am the speaker of the people, but also way more cool. Gib Manrique (he/they) is a writer, poet, and journalist occupying a space in the Arts District of Downtown Phoenix. He has written for several student news publications and independently published his own work. He also refers to himself as transgendermexican4000, as a lot of his work is related to those identities within his life.
You can follow him on his social media with @gib.nky and listen to his comedic queer history podcast on Spotify titled “That’s Gay!” Gib is an intern with Wasted Ink Zine Distro and will be writing monthly for our blog through 2025 and into 2026.
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