Mainstream Bookshelving: Where do Black stories belong?
It’s a question that’s becoming increasingly contentious in the publishing world. It’s also a question that resonates with me, too, whenever I find myself browsing a bookstore or book-ish space, eagerly searching for Black authors on the shelves.
In the current political landscape of the US, it often feels like the answer is obvious: nowhere. It’s not a secret that Black stories have always struggled to find space on bestseller lists, a fact reflected by the same difficulty for Black stories to find a home among hashtags on BookTok and the kind of viral fame that skyrockets books into the rarified air of a trending topic. In 2024, The Bookseller, published an article highlighting the fact that despite the top 1,000 bestselling authors of last year selling a combined 98.5 million units for £763.9m [Nielsen BookScan’s Total Consumer Market (TCM) data], only 23 Black authors were among the top 1,000, with the sales of their books adding up to a total of £11.2m.
The author count has dropped marginally since 2022, and is equal to about 1.5% of the total value, representing a drop from 2021.
But publishing has long been society’s mirror. With the rush to eliminate DEI programs from college campuses, corporate offices, and everything in between, that same reluctance to embrace diversity, equity, and inclusion is being felt in publishing. Black authors are sharing their concerns about what stories will be pursued by publishers, what stories will be picked up by readers. Will anyone be interested in the Black experience, the Black point of view on anything, now that it’s been categorized as no longer necessary? No longer a box that needs to be checked? This feeling is particularly being felt in the Children’s literature sector which Kelly-Jade Nicholls, the founder of the Woke Babies subscription service, and the Melanin Dreams bookshops in Norwood has seen to not be keeping up with the pace of change in reading behaviours.
What happens when no one feels like they have to care?
It’s a heavy question, one that we’re all, for better or worse, finding out the answer to in real time. There’s been some impactful pushback, the Target boycott being a major one that comes to mind. While the company is still reeling from its rollback of DEI initiatives, there are other institutions being forced to shutter or rescind opportunities for Black and marginalised groups. There are grants that no longer exist, and scholarships have vanished overnight. For every perceived win, there’s another loss, another uphill battle waiting around the next corner.
Keeping in mind the state of things, I never expected my thriller, While We Were Burning, would ever be given space at a retailer. By all accounts, it’s the sort of angry, social justice-y book that doesn’t belong in an anti-DEI climate, complete with a Black woman’s point of view. When I learned that it was going to be on shelves at select Tesco’s nationwide, along with eleven other titles from Jacaranda for Black History Month, I was barely able to process the news. There were going to be twelve Black authors with retail space? People were going to be able to walk into a Tesco and pick up my book?
Black History Month wasn’t canceled in the UK?
Being American, I’ll admit my attention has mostly been captured by the continuous fires in my own backyard. While aware of growing anti-migrant sentiments in the UK (an unfortunate similarity to the U.S.’s anti-immigration sentiments), I’d considered it a foregone conclusion that there’d be backlash to any attempts at inclusivity. I’d also assumed the worst, much like how Hispanic Heritage Month in the US (it’s in October, too) has been muted and practically abandoned, another sacrifice to the anti-DEI altar.
And while taking up retail space may not seem like a major victory, it does mean something. When the very idea of the Black point of view, of Black people, ourselves, is being pushed out of seemingly everywhere, having our stories visible alongside literal necessities? Visible next to grocery aisles that people shop at every day? It means something.
It means that we’re accessible to anyone and everyone. It means that we’re still allowed to take up space. It means that we haven’t been cast aside, a voice disregarded from a conversation we’re no longer having. And despite some people’s best efforts to erase our words, our contributions, and our history, we’re still here, whether they like it or not.
Where do Black stories belong?
Everywhere we’ve been and everywhere we are.
And everywhere we’ll continue to be.
Happy Black History Month, UK! Keep fighting the good fight.
Signed,
A Cautiously Optimistic American.
By Sara Koffi, author While We Were Burning