I know I'm late to the conversation but I needed to take some time to really sit with my thoughts... and my feelings. But i'm ready, so let's dive in.

Is Barnes and Noble the villain?

Last year, we were collectively enraged when Barnes and Noble hosted its first Booktok festival and, somehow, forgot to invite the people who made Booktok a success. You know... Booktokers.

When Covid lockdowns first set the stage for TikTok to take over the world, many bookstores were in serious trouble. (For unrelated reasons). Especially Barnes and Noble. Rumor had it they were on their way to real catastrophy...until BookTok saved their asses.

Bookish influencers have been around forever, and they have been instrumental in this industry for as long as they've existed. Whether that was on Youtube, Blog spaces, Instagram, etc. But as the pandemic left everyone stuck in their houses, afraid and bored, bookish influencers began taking up massive space on this platform specifically. And its impact was felt wide.

Publishers took notice. Bookstores took notice. And most importantly, readers took notice. And because of that, this industry received an infusion of interest and cash that pulled businesses like Barnes and Noble out of real trouble and gave them new legs to stand on.

So when they finally decided to honor this community, but forgot to invite any of US, we were pissed. Justifiably.

Fast forward to this year, and they have fucked up again. Only this time, it wasn't influencers they left behind. But Black people as a whole. They hosted a massive event to honor the many authors who keep this industry moving...and somehow, no negros were in the building.

What the fuck?

Over the last few weeks, I have seen a lot of takes about this. People who are angry. Surprised. Outraged. Confused. Authors, readers, fellow bookstore owners, etc. And while I share all of the expressed outrage, there is one sentiment that I want to take a moment to publicly disagree with.

I could not find the post to share with you, but there was one author in particular who commented that when they looked at Barnes and Noble's event, they didn't see a crowd that reflected the industry. And that was a sentiment that I have sense seen repeated again and again.

I strongly disagree.

I think what Barnes and Noble did perfectly reflects today's publishing industry. Because the truth is, despite the many Black authors who have proven again and again that we have stories that the world wants to hear, Black voices continue to be an afterthought. They continue to be ignored, overlooked, mistreated, forgotten and kept out of rooms they helped build.

As readers who love Black authors and Black books, we see Black faces everywhere we look. And not just the famous ones. Not just the Tracy Deonns and Nia Davenports and Nana-Kwame Adjei-Brenyahs. We see the midlist Black authors and the indie Black authors and the Black authors who haven't put anything out yet. We are looking eagerly for them and openly celebrating them, and so we see them as central to the industry we love.

But to everyone else, this industry exists independently from the Black people it is forced to make space for.

That is what it means to live in a racist, capitalist society.

Their promises of inclusion mean nothing. Their love of diversity means nothing. Their commitment to advocacy means nothing. Because at the end of the day, they see our presence as an inclusion in something that otherwise exists just fine without us, despite needing our creativity to flourish.

So when companies like Barnes and Noble, who would not exist without the contributions of Black artists, create events where they celebrate authors, I am not shocked when they "forget" us.

Why?

Because that is what they've been trying to do this whole time.

But I don't want to focus this conversation on Barnes and Noble, or even the racist foundation this entire industry sits upon. I want to focus it on our ability to disrupt.

Black people shouldn't have to be a disruption everywhere we exist. We shouldn't have to resist oppression or fight to break past systemic barriers. But that is the reality. The majority of the Black authors you know and love reached the level of success they did because they, and their communities, fought tooth and nail to push their work out there and to make sure you heard about it.

Community is how we disrupt industry barriers.

Community.

Now, I am not going to shame you for shopping at Barnes and Noble. I really don't care what you do. For plenty of people, Barnes and Noble is the only nearby store, and I get that. But here is what I will say: lasting disruption happens from the bottom and it takes us all.

It is 2026. We are decades into the fight for equality, and we are still having to demand access to every room we want to be in. It is time for us to build some rooms where we are centered. Rooms designed to highlight us and our achievements. Which is going to mean deconstructing the way many of us feel about indie authors and divorcing ourselves from companies that pour their resources and energy into keeping marginalized people humble.

We are going to have to reconsider our relationship with capitalism and begin rethinking the way we engage with this industry as a whole.

And I want to be clear: I am not shaming you for how you spend your money. And I am ESPECIALLY not telling you to abandon Black authors who have made it under a major publisher's label. Those authors need us just as much as any other Black author. What I am saying is that the way we approach this industry needs to be reexamined.

We need to continue fighting for the Black authors who exist within the traditional publishing sphere and we have to take the Black authors who don't more seriously. We will not ever get to actual change without Black authors, as a whole, being championed.

Three things we can do consistently to bring a little change

1. Intentionally add Indie books to your TBR. Especially Black indie books. We cannot get to change without fighting for the voices at the bottom.

2. Openly talk about the Black books you read. Don't just read them. Read them loudly. Spread the word. Activate your community.

3. Shop local. Whether that is a brick and mortar indie bookstore in your community or an indie bookstore online. Buy less of your books from major retailers and more of them from indie bookstores. Especially indie bookstores that are Black/indie friendly.

As always, thank you for being a part of this community. And if you find value in the work we are doing here, please consider subscribing for $5 or $12, so that we can invest in even more marginalized authors. Thank you.