Dear Reader,
Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to know people’s business. And writing Black-Owned has provided me with the opportunity to do just that. When I first began studying Black-owned bookstores in 2019, it was because I wanted to know the stories of Black booksellers who endured FBI surveillance, who spent their life savings to open their stores, who saw generations of Black families grow up right in front of them. I never imagined that I would be the one to share their stories in a book.
At its core, Black-Owned is a book full of stories. A Black woman who opened Denver’s most successful Black bookshop, a young activist who wrested her bookstore from the hands of a political organization, a Black Panther who decided to leave the group and sell books instead, a nineteenth century abolitionist who opened the nation’s first Black bookstore. In all their stories is a commitment to their communities. They started programs for children, gave space to young organizers, and provided books to incarcerated people. I’m honored to share these stories with the world.
I often think back to my July afternoon with Clara Villarosa, a ninety something artist who ran Denver’s most popular Black bookstore. She laughed about the rocky start to her friendship with Maya Angelou and proudly showed me the artwork all throughout her New York apartment, which she’d painted herself. Sitting with her, I felt an immense sense of responsibility. She wouldn’t be here forever, and I was tasked with sharing her story.
In writing this book, I’ve spent years traveling the country to sit with booksellers like Villarosa and hear stories from their glory days. I’ve pored over news articles, FBI documents, and obscure pamphlets to piece together a story previously only known by a few committed historians. By the time I reached the end of my writing, I had done more than learn about people’s lives—I’d done much more than learn their business. I’d developed relationships with booksellers old and young and an even deeper understanding of what it means to commit to a cause greater than myself. I’d learned the importance of collectivity.
As I prepare now to release Black-Owned, my greatest hope is that readers will find in these stories that same sense of community. My hope is we will gain a deeper understanding of just how much we need one another. Prison abolitionist and organizer Mariame Kaba often says, “Everything worthwhile is done with other people.” May this book be not only a comforting resource in these politically turbulent times but a reminder of what Black booksellers know all too well, community is the key.
Warmly,
Char Adams
