After changes take hold, it is easy to blur the efforts of those who built them or even forget them. This context frames a push for a capital release for Spain’s LGBTQ movement, and the magazine Zero is highlighted as a catalyst that dragged the country out of silence. Movistar Plus+ launches a two‑part documentary series on the twenty‑eighth, just as Pride celebrations begin in earnest.
Mario Suárez, who served as the magazine’s first fellow and later as editor from 2003 to 2005, reflects on conversations with young, unborn gay men who, upon Zero’s appearance, challenged him. He recalls their critique of the time when musculoca culture dominated visibility goals, exposing a gap in knowledge about what happened two decades earlier. The conversation underscores how memory shapes present debates and pressures for progress.
In the series, Damien Einstein directs and Diego Sabanes writes, tracing the history of Zero from its Madrid origins in 1998 to its influence on social, political, and cultural change. The documentary also notes milestones such as the 2005 approval of same‑sex marriage by Congress, and the 2012 decision by the Constitutional Court that resolved a challenge to that progress. Suárez observes that the moment when society began to advance on these rights was not the end of the struggle but a signpost that the journey needed ongoing attention.
a real forum
Zero started as a fanzine created by journalism students from Complutense and grew into a glossy national publication. It became a perceived window into a gay community for people across Spain who often felt isolated. Early letters pages multiplied, turning the magazine into a living forum. Suárez explains that urgent communication connected Madrid with far‑flung provinces, uniting a dispersed audience. The rise of Chueca, the magazine’s growth, and political changes in Madrid all converged to shape a shared culture.
Readers could visit the newsroom to meet the people behind the pages, from Suárez to other participants in the documentary, such as Miguel Angel Lopez, the documentary’s director, photographer Eduardo PV Rubaudonadeu, and the cinematographer known as LaChapelle. The team also highlights the roles of the assistant director and the stylist in shaping the magazine’s voice and direction.
coming out on paper
The documentary spotlights cover images and profiles of notable figures who publicly revealed their identities. It includes performances by celebrated artists and public figures who stood at the crossroads of visibility and scrutiny. Suárez notes that these individuals took pride in being part of the publication’s history, recognizing the bravery of those moments and the impact on others who followed. Small actions, he says, helped move the needle toward bigger social changes.
The show also acknowledges cultural figures who faced resistance from traditional institutions, including a high‑ranking military officer photographed in uniform and a Catholic priest who faced censure for appearing in the magazine. Over time, the magazine’s reach led to requests for interviews from prominent voices across politics and culture, including former political leaders who appeared in earlier issues.
There’s only one thing left to do
The contribution of Zero remains undeniable, yet contemporary news sometimes makes the road seem incomplete. A recent report from an LGBTQ advocacy federation highlights ongoing violence and harassment, underscoring that much work remains. Suárez emphasizes that harm occurs not only in obvious acts of aggression but in everyday experiences, including schooling and social life. He argues that lasting change starts from the ground up, addressing attitudes and safety at the community level.
Looking ahead to political landscapes, Suárez voices caution about potential shifts in education and integration policies. He believes some legal steps cannot be undone, and the path to equality requires vigilant ongoing effort. The series invites viewers to consider how Zero’s legacy informs contemporary debates and how public discourse can continue to broaden inclusion for all.
From the crucified Jesús Vázquez to the first gay colonel: four iconic covers
Nacho Duato in 1999 spoke openly about his sexuality and the pressures faced by a young artist rising to leadership in the national dance scene.
Jesús Vázquez in 2000 became a symbol of courage after facing a public ordeal, a moment many credit with opening doors for others in the entertainment industry.
José María Sánchez Silva in 2000 faced harassment tied to breaking stereotypes within the military, highlighting the cost of standing against entrenched norms. The response from within the institution remained a topic of discussion long after the issue.
José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero in 2002 used his platform to advocate for equal treatment under the law, marking a turning point in social policy and challenging conservative opposition within his own ranks. The cover is remembered as a milestone in public accountability for civil rights progress.