An Ending is a Beginning

 On January 1, 2024 (20 Tevet 5784), we (Nao and Zoe) finished Chapter 137 of Riverdale. Alongside the rest of the world (except actually like 5 months late), we said Goodbye, Riverdale. 

Yet something in us knew this wasn't the end of this journey we had begun 6 fateful years ago. As we hit replay, jumping back to the first episode of season one in our living room, lit by a single pink Jewish ritual candle surrounded by Riverdale pins and our two matching jasper stones purchased from the witch store in Somerville, we both understood that this was in fact a moment of rebirth. Of destructive ending as a step towards queer creation. Of the circling of time, akin to the turning of the Jewish calendar. 

A few weeks later, over cannolis and Italian cookies, we decided to create an ongoing Riverdale project. An archive, say, that could also act as a meeting-space. An online zine housing our thoughts, longings, theorizations, and projections re: Riverdale. At the end of the day, a way to express the infinity of Riverdale in our lives. Because if you know me and Nao, you know we can't go long without bringing up Riverdale, and it's been this way for years. As we like to say, no one gets Riverdale like we do. Yet we do sincerely hope that reading this blog and browsing its pages will bring you closer to understanding the joys and triumphs, the revelations and visions, the highs and lows, of loving Riverdale in all its silly, queer, unraveled/unraveling glory. We intend this project to be a corrective to the turning of the tide of negative opinion towards Riverdale—as part of a larger shared goal of embodying the worldmaking play, silliness, and emergence we believe Riverdale represents, and has in fact taught us. 

We want to start this space with a blossoming of possibilities. A manifesto of sorts, an opening of the door into a commons where universes are always multiplying, Pops is always open, queer interracial relationships from the 1950s abound, a "quad" is the final answer to Archie's binaristic seeking (Betty or Veronica? Guitar or football?), and Riverdale creator Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa peacefully watches from afar in a divine and Barthesian manner. So here it is—at the end of the day, a prayer. 

Riverdale as queer futures and queer histories.

Riverdale as a guide to nonbinary being.

Riverdale as an opening of unboundaried possibility.

Riverdale as a self-abolishing capitalist product.

Riverdale as a ticking time bomb.

 Riverdale as an absurd unveiling (and heightening) of the realities of capitalist realism.

Riverdale as a lifestyle of silliness and joy.

Riverdale as an unending Purim party.

Riverdale as a blending and constant transgression of the line between the high and the low, à la the New Narrative Movement. 

Riverdale as an homage to the extended universe that is the riff ("Rifferdale.")

Riverdale as an experiment in emergent unraveling and transformative change.

Riverdale as a malleable tool in our hands.

Also: Riverdale is about us. It's a story of Zoe and Nao. Trust us, you'll see. As Jughead said, staring us right in the eyes as the 137th episode drew to a close, "Riverdale will always be your home." His breath blew the candle flame on the coffee table out. And so the circling began.

Love, 

Your devoted Riverdale scholars,

Z&N