Digital & Print Membership
Yearly + Receive 8 free printed back issues
$420 Annually
Monthly + Receive 3 free printed back issues
$40 Monthly
DIY OR DIE/ KILL YOUR IDOLS
Maya Al Zaben— The last thing I wrote for this article was an introduction. I couldn’t settle on a title: DIY or DIE or KILL YOUR IDOLS (I’ll get to both later). Both intense (as fuck), both provocative (as fuck), and both violently tied to the essence of punk as a movement, fashion era and language style. Maybe the most punk thing I could do was write this piece backwards—and aggressively (apologies to my conservative Arab mother)—start with the conclusion, then the body and end with the intro. Anti-structure, somewhat disruptive (to me and my editors) and exactly in line with what I’m (we are*–collective language, always) writing about: punk as protest.
Punk begins with a firm “NO”—rejecting how things are done and refusing to carry on business as usual. On the mildest end of the punk spectrum, I think of my 2025 resolution to say “no” more often as a former people pleaser. Punk? Not punk enough. Like when John Lennon returned the MBE that Queen Elizabeth II awarded to The (non- punk) Beatles in 1965, sending it back four years later in protest against England’s participation in the Vietnam War. Sean Ono Lennon called it the most punk thing his father ever did. Punk? Not punk enough.
Let’s take it back to the 1970s. The origins of punk itself were born from protest—political corruption in both the United States and the United Kingdom. In the UK, Margaret Thatcher’s neoliberal policies affected working- class communities while at the same time in the US, people were disillusioned after the Vietnam War and the controversial Watergate scandal.
Since I was born 30+ years after these socio-economic tragedies, I stumbled into punk as a child through music and fashion instead (go figure). Still though it wasn’t through the gritty rebellion of the Sex Pistols (I am an antichrist…) or the radical designs of fashion designer Vivienne Westwood (yet), whose tartan bondage pants and sex-obsessed t-shirts defined punk (high) fashion as we know it. It was Adam Lambert’s smudged eyeliner on American Idol and Avril Lavigne’s neckties that became my entry point to the world of “NO”. (Only after writing this sentence did I realize how whiteness shaped punk’s mainstream narrative).
But punk isn’t just a sound or a look—it’s praxis, not just aesthetic. Ripped clothing, black attire (unity), nails and needles, and safety pins are fashion statements, but more than that they are accessories of protection against the system—anti-consumerist objects crafted from whatever is available during times of global strife. Essentially, punk as praxis means that rebellion isn’t commodified material culture but rather a lived experience.
Kill your IDOLS
The phrase “kill your idols” captures one of punk’s most important principles: no one is above critique, not even those who inspire you. Fashion designer and Sex Pistols manager Malcolm McLaren once told Vogue in April 1986 that punk was “like a heap of rubbish waiting to be set alight. It only takes one person to throw the match.” Punk’s fire isn’t about blind destruction but rather about using that match to force reinvention. Punk demands accountability from its heroes and challenges its own history to avoid stagnation (symbolic victories over material change) or hypocrisy. After all, 70s punk was a response to said political and economic stagnation.
Vivienne Westwood, for example, remains one of punk’s most beloved figures, yet her commercial success and mainstream embrace have elicited debates about whether her work has strayed from its anti-establishment roots in favor of couture that only caters to the 0.0001% of our privileged world. Punk doesn’t shy away from asking difficult questions, even of its legends: Can rebellion survive within a capitalist framework? How do we reconcile the commodification of a movement born out of resistance? To kill your idols is to commit to constant self-interrogation and interrogation of those we love most.
Punk zines like Punk Planet (1994-2007) upheld this principle through blunt and confrontational writing, questioning not only society but also the punk movement itself. Articles like “Creative People Need to Question How They May Be Prostituting Their Talents and Who Their Pimp May Be” (March 2003) directly asks creative individuals to question not just how they create, but who ultimately benefits from their labor. The piece urges readers to ensure their work remains a reflection of their values rather than a product of capitalism and systemic compromise. The raw and aggressive language mirrors punk’s wardrobe choices: unapologetic/ (organized) chaos.
Do-it-Yourself or DIE
I can’t remember the last time I DIY’d anything myself—- I’m terrible with crafts (this is why I write), but in the punk movement DIY is more than just what you can do with your hands. It’s the belief that you don’t need permission, funding, or validation to create or express yourself or the society you want to live in. In punk, if you want a “free society”, you have to DIY it. To embrace punk is to create your own world with YOUR hands, your voice–and rage. To QUESTION. To REBUILD. And to RESIST.
Fashion as Protest Armor
Historically, punks were always raiding thrift shops for affordable items they could modify. Spikes and leather are used as a protective shield against hostility in protests. They create a sense of distance between the “punk” and the “other.” Leather or denim jackets are wearable manifestos– and patches or hand- painted graphics showcase allegiances to personal philosophies. Combat boots are a grounding defense that suggest the wearer is ready for confrontation or resistance. Mohawks and liberty spikes acted as psychological armor: don’t fuck with me or else.
Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren (they worked together for decades) elevated this crummyish DIY ethic into high art. Their collections–“Pirates” (1981), “Punkature” (1982), and “Witches” (1983), etc. took traditional symbols of power and authority—corsets, military jackets….
When Punk meets Palestine
I met Romanian activist and punk fashion designer Bogdan Stefanescu at a Palestinian protest in Washington Square Park a few months ago—before I even knew I’d be writing an article with him as essentially the main character (so glad we stayed in touch). His mohawk and leather jacket, covered in spikes and images of revolutionary figures, made him unmistakably P-U- N-K. At 63, Bogdan embodied everything punk is supposed to be: “Punk is a fuck you in the face of oppressive society,” he told me. “It’s nonconformist, anti-institutional, and anti- corporate. Punk pisses a lot of people off, but that’s how you know you’re doing something right.”
Why Punk still matters
The punk movement continues to evolve globally even as trends in political and fashion values shift. It’s cool as fuck. It is not accepting the world as it is. It is a commitment to creating something better. And most importantly it is building community in a legislative era that seeks to divide. QUESTION. REBUILD. RESIST.

{
"article":
{
"title" : "DIY OR DIE/ KILL YOUR IDOLS",
"author" : "Maya Al Zaben",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/diy-or-die-slash-kill-your-idols",
"date" : "2025-03-21 16:23:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Screenshot-2025-02-18-at-10.33.16PM.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Maya Al Zaben— The last thing I wrote for this article was an introduction. I couldn’t settle on a title: DIY or DIE or KILL YOUR IDOLS (I’ll get to both later). Both intense (as fuck), both provocative (as fuck), and both violently tied to the essence of punk as a movement, fashion era and language style. Maybe the most punk thing I could do was write this piece backwards—and aggressively (apologies to my conservative Arab mother)—start with the conclusion, then the body and end with the intro. Anti-structure, somewhat disruptive (to me and my editors) and exactly in line with what I’m (we are*–collective language, always) writing about: punk as protest.",
"content" : "Maya Al Zaben— The last thing I wrote for this article was an introduction. I couldn’t settle on a title: DIY or DIE or KILL YOUR IDOLS (I’ll get to both later). Both intense (as fuck), both provocative (as fuck), and both violently tied to the essence of punk as a movement, fashion era and language style. Maybe the most punk thing I could do was write this piece backwards—and aggressively (apologies to my conservative Arab mother)—start with the conclusion, then the body and end with the intro. Anti-structure, somewhat disruptive (to me and my editors) and exactly in line with what I’m (we are*–collective language, always) writing about: punk as protest.Punk begins with a firm “NO”—rejecting how things are done and refusing to carry on business as usual. On the mildest end of the punk spectrum, I think of my 2025 resolution to say “no” more often as a former people pleaser. Punk? Not punk enough. Like when John Lennon returned the MBE that Queen Elizabeth II awarded to The (non- punk) Beatles in 1965, sending it back four years later in protest against England’s participation in the Vietnam War. Sean Ono Lennon called it the most punk thing his father ever did. Punk? Not punk enough.Let’s take it back to the 1970s. The origins of punk itself were born from protest—political corruption in both the United States and the United Kingdom. In the UK, Margaret Thatcher’s neoliberal policies affected working- class communities while at the same time in the US, people were disillusioned after the Vietnam War and the controversial Watergate scandal.Since I was born 30+ years after these socio-economic tragedies, I stumbled into punk as a child through music and fashion instead (go figure). Still though it wasn’t through the gritty rebellion of the Sex Pistols (I am an antichrist…) or the radical designs of fashion designer Vivienne Westwood (yet), whose tartan bondage pants and sex-obsessed t-shirts defined punk (high) fashion as we know it. It was Adam Lambert’s smudged eyeliner on American Idol and Avril Lavigne’s neckties that became my entry point to the world of “NO”. (Only after writing this sentence did I realize how whiteness shaped punk’s mainstream narrative).But punk isn’t just a sound or a look—it’s praxis, not just aesthetic. Ripped clothing, black attire (unity), nails and needles, and safety pins are fashion statements, but more than that they are accessories of protection against the system—anti-consumerist objects crafted from whatever is available during times of global strife. Essentially, punk as praxis means that rebellion isn’t commodified material culture but rather a lived experience.Kill your IDOLSThe phrase “kill your idols” captures one of punk’s most important principles: no one is above critique, not even those who inspire you. Fashion designer and Sex Pistols manager Malcolm McLaren once told Vogue in April 1986 that punk was “like a heap of rubbish waiting to be set alight. It only takes one person to throw the match.” Punk’s fire isn’t about blind destruction but rather about using that match to force reinvention. Punk demands accountability from its heroes and challenges its own history to avoid stagnation (symbolic victories over material change) or hypocrisy. After all, 70s punk was a response to said political and economic stagnation.Vivienne Westwood, for example, remains one of punk’s most beloved figures, yet her commercial success and mainstream embrace have elicited debates about whether her work has strayed from its anti-establishment roots in favor of couture that only caters to the 0.0001% of our privileged world. Punk doesn’t shy away from asking difficult questions, even of its legends: Can rebellion survive within a capitalist framework? How do we reconcile the commodification of a movement born out of resistance? To kill your idols is to commit to constant self-interrogation and interrogation of those we love most.Punk zines like Punk Planet (1994-2007) upheld this principle through blunt and confrontational writing, questioning not only society but also the punk movement itself. Articles like “Creative People Need to Question How They May Be Prostituting Their Talents and Who Their Pimp May Be” (March 2003) directly asks creative individuals to question not just how they create, but who ultimately benefits from their labor. The piece urges readers to ensure their work remains a reflection of their values rather than a product of capitalism and systemic compromise. The raw and aggressive language mirrors punk’s wardrobe choices: unapologetic/ (organized) chaos.Do-it-Yourself or DIEI can’t remember the last time I DIY’d anything myself—- I’m terrible with crafts (this is why I write), but in the punk movement DIY is more than just what you can do with your hands. It’s the belief that you don’t need permission, funding, or validation to create or express yourself or the society you want to live in. In punk, if you want a “free society”, you have to DIY it. To embrace punk is to create your own world with YOUR hands, your voice–and rage. To QUESTION. To REBUILD. And to RESIST.Fashion as Protest ArmorHistorically, punks were always raiding thrift shops for affordable items they could modify. Spikes and leather are used as a protective shield against hostility in protests. They create a sense of distance between the “punk” and the “other.” Leather or denim jackets are wearable manifestos– and patches or hand- painted graphics showcase allegiances to personal philosophies. Combat boots are a grounding defense that suggest the wearer is ready for confrontation or resistance. Mohawks and liberty spikes acted as psychological armor: don’t fuck with me or else.Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren (they worked together for decades) elevated this crummyish DIY ethic into high art. Their collections–“Pirates” (1981), “Punkature” (1982), and “Witches” (1983), etc. took traditional symbols of power and authority—corsets, military jackets….When Punk meets PalestineI met Romanian activist and punk fashion designer Bogdan Stefanescu at a Palestinian protest in Washington Square Park a few months ago—before I even knew I’d be writing an article with him as essentially the main character (so glad we stayed in touch). His mohawk and leather jacket, covered in spikes and images of revolutionary figures, made him unmistakably P-U- N-K. At 63, Bogdan embodied everything punk is supposed to be: “Punk is a fuck you in the face of oppressive society,” he told me. “It’s nonconformist, anti-institutional, and anti- corporate. Punk pisses a lot of people off, but that’s how you know you’re doing something right.”Why Punk still mattersThe punk movement continues to evolve globally even as trends in political and fashion values shift. It’s cool as fuck. It is not accepting the world as it is. It is a commitment to creating something better. And most importantly it is building community in a legislative era that seeks to divide. QUESTION. REBUILD. RESIST."
}
,
"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "Black Liberation Views on Palestine",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/black-liberation-on-palestine",
"date" : "2025-10-17 09:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/mandela-keffiyeh.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "In understanding global politics, it is important to look at Black liberation struggles as one important source of moral perspective. So, when looking at Palestine, we look to Black leaders to see how they perceived the Palestinian struggle in relation to theirs, from the 1960’s to today.Why must we understand where the injustice lies? Because, as Desmond Tutu famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”{% for person in site.data.quotes-black-liberation-palestine %}{{ person.name }}{% for quote in person.quotes %}“{{ quote.text }}”{% if quote.source %}— {{ quote.source }}{% endif %}{% endfor %}{% endfor %}"
}
,
{
"title" : "First Anniversary Celebration of EIP",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "events",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/1st-anniversary-of-eip",
"date" : "2025-10-14 18:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/WSA_EIP_Launch_Cover.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent Publishing",
"content" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent PublishingJoin Everything is Political on November 21st for the launch of our End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine.This members-only evening will feature a benefit dinner, cocktails, and live performances in celebration of a year of independent media, critical voices, and collective resistance.The EventNovember 21, 2025, 7-11pmLower Manhattan, New YorkLaunching our End-of-Year Special Edition MagazineSpecial appearances and performancesFood & Drink includedTickets are extremely limited, reserve yours now!Become an annual print member: get x back issues of EIP, receive the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine, and come to the Anniversary Celebration.$470Already a member? Sign in to get your special offer. Buy Ticket $150 Just $50 ! and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine Buy ticket $150 and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine "
}
,
{
"title" : "Miu Miu Transforms the Apron From Trad Wife to Boss Lady: The sexiest thing in Paris was a work garment",
"author" : "Khaoula Ghanem",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/miu-miu-transforms-the-apron-from-trad-wife-to-boss-lady",
"date" : "2025-10-14 13:05:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_MiuMiu_Apron.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.",
"content" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.From the opening look—German actress Sandra Hüller in a utilitarian deep-blue apron layered over a barn jacket and neat blue shirting—the thesis was loud: the “cover” becomes the thing itself. As silhouettes marched on, aprons multiplied and mutated—industrial drill cotton with front pockets, raw canvas, taffeta and cloqué silk, lace-edged versions that flirted with lingerie, even black leather and crystal-studded incarnations that reframed function as ornament. What the apron traditionally shields (clothes, bodies, “the good dress”) was inverted; the protection became the prized surface. Prada herself spelled it out: “The apron is my favorite piece of clothing… it symbolizes women, from factories through to serving to the home.”Miu Miu Spring 2026 Ready-to-Wear. SuppliedThis inversion matters historically. The apron’s earliest fashion-adjacent life was industrial. It served as a barrier against grease, heat, stain. It was a token of paid and unpaid care. Miu Miu tapped that lineage directly (canvas, work belts, D-ring hardware), then sliced it against domestic codes (florals, ruffles, crochet), and finally pushed into nightlife with bejeweled and leather bibs. The garment’s migration across materials made its social migrations visible. It is a kitchen apron, yes, but also one for labs, hospitals, and factories; the set and styling insisted on that plurality.What makes the apron such a loaded emblem is not just what it covers, but what it reveals about who has always been working. Before industrialization formalized labor into factory shifts and wages, women were already performing invisible labour, the kind that doesn’t exist on payrolls but sits at the foundation of every functioning society. They were cooking, cleaning, raising children, nursing the ill. These tasks were foundational to every economy and yet absent from every ledger. Even when women entered the industrial workforce, from textile plants to wartime assembly lines, their domestic responsibilities did not disappear, they doubled. In that context, the apron here is a quiet manifesto for the strength that goes unrecorded, unthanked, and yet keeps civilization running.The algorithmic rise of the “tradwife,” the influencer economy that packages domesticity as soft power, is the contemporary cultural shadow here. Miu Miu’s apron refuses that rehearsal. In fact, it’s intentionally awkward—oversized, undone, worn over bikinis or with sturdy shoes—so the viewer can’t flatten it into Pinterest-ready nostalgia. Critics noted the collection as a reclamation, a rebuttal to the flattening forces of the feed: the apron as a uniform for endurance rather than submission. The show notes framed it simply as “a consideration of the work of women,” a reminder that the invisible economies of effort—paid, unpaid, emotional—still structure daily life.If that sounds unusually explicit for a luxury runway, consider the designer. Prada trained as a mime at Milan’s Piccolo Teatro, earned a PhD in political science, joined the Italian Communist Party, and was active in the women’s rights movement in 1970s Milan. Those facts are not trivia; they are the grammar of her clothes. Decades of “ugly chic” were, essentially, a slow campaign against easy consumption and default beauty. In 2026, the apron becomes the newest dialect. An emblem drawn from leftist feminist history, recoded into a product that still has to sell. That tension—belief versus business—is the Miuccia paradox, and it’s precisely why these aprons read as statements, not trends.The runway narrative traced a journey from function to fetish. Early looks were squarely utilitarian—thick cottons, pocketed bibs—before migrating toward fragility and sparkle. Lace aprons laid transparently over swimmers; crystal-studded aprons slipped across cocktail territory; leather apron-dresses stiffened posture into armor. The sequencing proposed the same silhouette can encode labor, intimacy, and spectacle depending on fabrication. If most brands smuggle “workwear” in as set dressing, Miu Miu forced it onto the body as the central garment and an unmissable reminder that the feminine is often asked to be both shield and display at once.It’s instructive to read this collection against the house’s last mega-viral object: the micro-mini of Spring 2022, a pleated, raw-hem wafer that colonized timelines and magazine covers. That skirt’s thesis was exposure—hip bones and hemlines as post-lockdown spectacle, Y2K nostalgia framed as liberation-lite. The apron, ironically, covers. Where the micro-mini trafficked in the optics of freedom (and the speed of virality), the apron asks about the conditions that make freedom possible: who launders, who cooks, who cares? To move from “look at me” to “who is working here?” is a pivot from optics to ethics, without abandoning desire. (The aprons are, after all, deeply covetable.) In a platform economy that still rewards the shortest hemline with the biggest click-through, this is a sophisticated counter-program.Yet the designer is not romanticizing toil. There’s wit in the ruffles and perversity in the crystals; neither negate labor, they metabolize it. The most striking image is the apron treated as couture-adjacent. Traditionally, an apron protects the precious thing beneath; here, the apron is the precious thing. You could call that hypocrisy—luxurizing the uniform of workers. Or, strategy, insisting that the symbols of care and effort deserve visibility and investment.Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. The “tradwife” script thrives because it is aesthetically legible and commercially scalable. It packages gender ideology as moodboard. Miu Miu counters with garments whose legibility flickers. The collection’s best looks ask viewers to reconcile tenderness with toughness, convenience with care, which is exactly the mental choreography demanded of women in every context from office to home to online.If you wanted a season-defining “It” item, you’ll still find it. The apron is poised to proliferate across fast-fashion and luxury alike. But the deeper success is structural: Miu Miu re-centered labor as an aesthetic category. That’s rarer than a viral skirt. It’s a reminder that clothes don’t merely decorate life, they describe and negotiate it. In making the apron the subject rather than the prop, Prada turned a garment of service into a platform for agency. It’s precisely the kind of cultural recursion you’d expect from a designer shaped by feminist politics, who never stopped treating fashion as an instrument of thought as much as style.The last image to hold onto is deceptively simple: a woman in an apron, neither fetishized nor infantilized, striding, hands free. Not a costume for nostalgia, not a meme for the feed, but a working uniform reframed, respected, and suddenly, undeniably beautiful. That is Miu Miu’s provocation for Spring 2026: the work behind the work, made visible at last."
}
]
}