Every few weeks, I wake up to a conversation about how Black readers need to do more. And while there is plenty of room for conversation on how to more effectively bring change to this industry and the role indie authors play in that, there is also a perspective that a lot of you are missing. And that is that no one is fighting for authors the way that Black readers are. We're already doing THE MOST. So let's talk about it.

One of the weirdest things about being a Black book influencer is the juxtaposition of regularly hearing how lazy and undeserving I am while also regularly having authors thank me for the direct role I played in pushing their careers to the next level.

Which is something that pretty much only Black influencers understand. Because:

• Other creators are not fighting for authors the way that we are.

• Other creators are allowed to be celebrated when they make a difference.

And before you point to my following as evidence that I am so celebrated in this community, I want you to ask yourself how often you only see my videos because someone is being racist, fatphobic, or dehumanizing in my comments. My experience as a bookish "influencer" has been near constantly violence. And that does have an impact on the quality of my life.

I share this because I think it's important to actually see the role that Black readers play in this community, and what it often costs us. This industry, including reader spaces, is very resistant to creating space for Black and brown stories. They don't want them. They won't fight for them. They feel threatened by the very idea that they exist. And traditional publishers, despite us having forced them to start publishing more of our stories, are not investing the time, energy and money into changing that.

Do you know who IS investing in change?

Black readers.

Here is just a small list of things I regularly do for authors:

• Championing a book for weeks or months, posting about it regularly, selling hundreds and thousands of copies for them

• Calling bookstores and convincing them to stock a book based on the promise that I'm about to dedicate my platforms to making it popular

• Dming and emailing bookboxes and introducing them to books they hadn't hear about and telling them exactly how many copies I've sold to help convince them that a book is worth creating special editions for

• Coordinating with authors so that I always know what promotions they are working on, when they are in stock, and how I can best help them

• DMing other bookish influencers who I think will enjoy a book and getting the author to send them copies so it can spread even further

And I am not the only one doing things like this. Black readers are making a massive difference, all while experiencing--as I said--near constant violence.

It is not a secret that traditional publishers are not pouring the necessary resources into Black stories to push them toward massive success. Every single successful Black author is a testament to the dedication of Black readers.

Quite frankly, instead of asking Black readers to do more, I think we should be asking everyone else to pick up some of the slack.

While I want to see more Black authors having massive success within traditional publishing spaces, and think we should continue pushing them toward it, that alone will not change the way we are treated or received by the industry.

And don't get me wrong, we should continue to push Black authors toward success! It matters. We have to keep the pressure going and we have to keep forcing these massive companies to remember we exist. It is an important part of change. But it is not the only, or even most important, part in my opinion.

So, what is?

Intentionally uplifting spaces that aren't controlled by our oppressors.

Y'all already know where I am going with this. If we want change, we are going to have to get very intentional about:

• Throwing our weight behind Black indie authors. Especially Black queer and/or disabled indie authors.

• Supporting and developing more Black publishing spaces.

As long as our greatest access is a concession made by our oppressors, we can never say we've won. Real change won't happen until we are not only breaking through in the spaces they try to keep us out of, but also creating spaces where they don't decide who get's access.

And if you don't believe me, look at the romance space. Because of Black women--put some respect on their name--the romance genre has many spaces that are controlled by Black readers. And the result? Romance is the single genre where Black indie authors are celebrated.

That is because of Black women who were willing to fight for their own table. Period.

Now, it's time to do that industry wide.

That starts with learning to see beyond what publishing has come to define itself as. Indie publishing is not only valid, it is unbelievably Black. Most Black authors will spend their entire careers self-publishing or publishing through indie presses. So, one thing we can do right now to invest in the future of Black publishing, is to build publishing spaces that WE control.

That means allowing indie authors into our community and meaningfully engaging with their work. And it means supporting indie presses so that they/we can grow and push past the gatekeeping that doesn't want our spaces developing.

Where do you get started???

First and foremost, obviously, I want to encourage you to be an active part of this community. Left Unread is fighting to not only create space for Black and brown authors, but we are working to build THIS space into a successful publishing community that can continue to fight for Black and brown authors for years to come. This industry actively works against our community and we are building Left Unread to be something of our own. So if you can invest even just $5 a month into helping us do this successfully, I'd appreciate it more than you know.

ADDITIONALLY, here are three indie books that I HIGHLY recommend. I encourage you to buy/borrow at least one of them and to then dip your toes into more indie books. It will make a difference.

When Blood Meets Earth by E.A. Noble: This is a dark fantasy about a twenty-year old princess who is about to lose her throne if she doesn't manifest her powers soon, all while her kingdom is on the brink of war. I would comp this to Our Vicious Oaths by NE Davenport and The Halfling Saga by Melissa Blair.

Tj Young and the Orishas by Antoine Bandele is one of the BEST YA series you will ever read in your life. It is about a young boy who has recently lost his sister and is now fighting to awaken his own magical power so that he can both take up his family's legacy and hopefully find out what everyone is hiding about what actually happened to his sister. I would comp this to Legendborn by Tracy Deonn and Raybearer by Jordan Ifueko.

No One's Gonna Take Her Soul Away by Amanda B Weaver is a dark fantasy about a Black woman unjustly condemned to the seventh level of hell who must battle her way out with a trio of unlikely allies in order to confront the goddess who sent her there and reclaim her life. I would comp this to Katabasis by RF Kuang and The Blood Gift duology by NE Davenport.

Watching as "anti-racist" white creators take turns centering their anger in a conversation about a little Black boy who was forced to face violent racism before he even has a firm grasp of the world is really breaking my heart.

I can't help but wonder if any of you actually care. Because from my perspective, it seems like many of the loudest voices are really only concerned with making sure everyone knows how angry they are at a racist.

Don't get me wrong, you should be angry. I am angry. So angry I can barely find the words to express myself. But I am also angry that voices with access to the loudest microphones are only interested in using them to broadcast their worthiness as our champions. They are not focused on change. They are not focused on humanizing the Black community they profit off of, or in walking their ignorant family/neighbors toward informed positions. They don't care. Because they are too busy making sure that we can see the difference between them and the people they share every other aspect of their life and identity with. They are sooo worried about distancing themselves from guilt that they can't be bothered to actually combat the violence being done to reinforce their advantages.

And look, I am not condemning you for being in that position, but I need you to unpack it. There is too much at stake for you to continue to get this wrong. Your anger is righteous. And your condemnation is warranted. But if you are so busy being at war with the part of yourself you're ashamed of that you run out of energy to actually search for a way forward, where does that leave us?

As it is, there are white people facing off in the village square, drawing the eyes of everyone onto themselves, and sure... maybe at the end of it, the "right" people will win the fight. It's happened before! But that did nothing to stop our children from facing this violence over and over and over and over again. And it won't this time either.

There has to be a better way forward.

And I want to be abundantly clear. I am not telling you to go easy on racists. I am not telling you that being loud and angry is wrong. And I am not asking you to stop using your platform to draw attention to these violent moments. Please continue to do all of that. But you have to start prioritizing actionable steps in your advocacy. Because as it stands, all that is really happening is a whole lot of white people are getting rich off of the violence they take turns subjecting our children to.

I don't know what else I really have to say here. I am just at my end. It is truly dehumanizing to watch so much of my community struggle to survive while you all get rich yelling at us or about us. All while no one ever finds the strength to actually stop and help us up.

If we are ever going to get to change, our collective advocacy has to get more focused on actionable goals. If you are angry at a racist for calling a child a slur, yes, use your platform to hold her accountable. But more importantly, find a way to use your anger as a platform for useful education and organizing instead of framing it as the goal.

Sure, we should all be angry at racists. But our anger doesn't change anything. Not if it doesn't lead us to create something.

So, create. That is what I'm asking. Create education. Create organized effort. Create community. Create actionable goals. Create a path forward. Create call-t0-action. Create measurable accountability.

Sigh. I just... I don't even know, y'all. This is so frustrating. We are surrounded by Black people building coalitions and communities so that we can fight to survive in a world that is quickly trying to beat us back into the cage we've spent hundreds of years trying to free ourselves from and so many of the people "in our corner" couldn't care less if we lose this fight, as long as they win it. And I just don't know what to do with that.

Should authors critically review other authors?

That's what you came here for. The newest hot take in the argument of the week. But I think instead of giving you a straight opinion, I am going to do what I always do and have a much larger conversation through the medium of this weekly hot topic.

Ready for the actual subject at hand? Lovely. The actual question we're going to be answering is:

Why are our solutions always black and white?

Watching this conversation unfold has been fascinating, because everyone is approaching it from a very different angle. Some are discussing the professionalism of authors who should not be engaging critically with their colleague's work. Some are discussing the way their platform, as an author, could cause unnecessary harm to other authors and how they should be mindful of that. And yet others are discussing access.

It all matters. Absolutely. And I don't think there is any one way to think about this, but I do think

I'm ready to start talking about Sinners in a more meaningful way. But before we dive in, I just want to be honest about two things:

1. I cannot possibly condense all of my thoughts into one post

2. I cannot promise that I will still be interested enough to write all of the other posts I currently intend to

lol! Anyway, I want to start by talking about Grace, because I see a lot of conversations happening online and I have some thoughts!

Let's address the elephant in the room... y'all know that she did. You saw it. I saw it. You got mad. I got mad.

Ok, we're on the same page. But here's the thing: I am not confident I wouldn't make the same choice.

I have seen a lot of hot takes about Grace over the last few days and I just wanted to take some time to share my take on all of it:

I did not walk away from Sinners thinking that Grace hated the Black people around her. I also don't think that we were meant to see her and her husband as colonizers who exploited the Black community. While there has certainly been plenty of tension between Black communities and Asian storeowners who came (and still do today) into our neighborhoods and set up shop, I did not leave this movie with the impression that Ryan Coogler was asking us to see Asian people as our oppressor's allies. I saw Grace and her family as an opportunity to approach a very old conversation with a nuance that often gets left out.

When we meet Grace and her husband, we meet them as people who have formed some degree of solidarity with the Black community. While Grace has the ability to cross the street and engage with white people, we only ever see her as a service to them. Whereas on the Black side of the street, she is Grace. She and her husband are introduced as old friends with our main characters. Co-conspirators even. There is a mischievous memory sparking to life in their eyes as they see each other. They have real community. And that continues to be the vibe throughout the film. Grace and her family are in this neighborhood because this is where they are allowed to belong, not as a means to exploit Black people.

However, it is worth noting that while they have been forced into community with Black people by the discriminatory systems of white America, the way they are marginalized and oppressed does not look identical. There is access they have, and means of survival, that are just not available to the Black people in their community. And that does have an effect on how intimate they can ever become in a world that forces them to fight for survival.

How do I know?

a. Because Grace was willing to force everyone to die for a very unlikely chance at protecting her daughter.

b. Because Grace even had to force them to fight for her daughter.

If they were family in the way the rest of that room was family, neither of those things would have happened. If Annie had said, "We have to kill them all or they are going to hurt our family", you cannot tell me she would have had to force them to fight.

Despite them being community, they were not family.

And that is a very important distinction for me, because that is a lot of our real-world experience. People don't always hate us. But they are always aware of the violence that is attached to our position in the world and the fact that the systems of oppression that unite us have positioned them for momentary reprieves if they will only participate.

That is the role Grace played in the conversation Ryan was having with us. She was not an agent of white supremacy. She was a mother who chose her daughter, just like anyone else would have. The difference between her and everyone else wasn't that she chose her family, it was that she had a choice to begin with.

Everyone else stood in that room aware that they had no option for saving their loved ones, because their loved ones were the targets.

The nuance!!!!

Think about that moment where Grace confronts Smoke. She treats him like he is a coward for walking away from a fight. At no point does she ask for his help or make a case for anyone in that room joining her fight. No, she expects them to fight because in her mind, this was their fight to begin with.

That is a tension that exists in a lot of the conversations that happen regarding the Black community and other communities of color in America. We are forced into similar spaces by the same systems of oppression, while facing constant tension as we (Black people) are abandoned to violence that everyone thinks is our responsibility to face.

And it is not lost on me that this movie came out during a time where many people are realizing that they were wrong about the fight being ours to begin with. Yes, Black people are the most conspicuously non-white people. We cannot hide. We cannot assimilate. We cannot suppress the parts of ourselves that white supremacy so desperately wants to kill. However, the truth is, we were all always the target.

And so is every other non-white, non-male, non-Christian, non-straight, non-disabled person in America. When they point at us and tell you that you can escape if you just let us die, they are lying. You were always on the chopping block. The only question was when they would come for you. So instead of standing behind us and hoping that their bloodlust is satiated before they make their way through us, understand that we are both targets and learn to actually build community so that we can all survive.

And for me, that is one of the most interesting things I took away from this movie.