When I write or plan content, or record podcasts, or whatever for Book Riot, I know who I’m speaking to. Our readers largely lean liberal, if not progressive; they value empathy and knowledge, they are for feminism and inclusion. And so I know that our readers were largely horrified, sad, scared, all of the above when they woke up on November 6th to the news that Donald Trump will return to the White House as president in 2025.
I had spent the night of November 5th into the early hours of the following morning in a half-awake, half-asleep stupor, stuck in a Groundhog’s Day anxiety loop of hallucinations where I picked up my phone, saw that the winner had been announced, but couldn’t make out a name. Then, around 5:30 a.m., I actually did pick up my phone and reality twisted into the nightmare my brain had eluded.
My first line of comfort came in the form of community, and my community is made up of people who value the same things I do, including books. It’s a relief to convene with your people who say, “I see you, I hear you, and I understand what you’re going through because I’m going through it too.” It’s a relief to see and hear your fears and outrage mirrored back at you because it means you’re not alone, and if you’re not alone, maybe we, the bigger national community of similarly-minded people can do something about what’s to come. And while returning to my books after a day or two spent stumbling around the house bewildered and grieving was something I absolutely did to keep enriching my life no matter what, I did not and do not believe the path to progress will be paved with books and organized in the quiet corners of our personal libraries.
If people buy more books by Black women because they heard we’re fed up with putting our backs into it and getting the least in return, and they want to show some kind of support, I’d love to see it. But I am reserving real side eye for aesthetic book stacks with captions about doing “the work.” I don’t have an answer for what will lift us above this dark timeline—I’m still processing myself—but hiding in the bookshelves isn’t it. I bring this up because whether for escape, for inspiration from leaders and activists who rose up against animosity and effected change, or as an attempt to read the tea leaves, because it’s so hard to understand how we got here, I understand that books are balms and agents of change as familiar and comfortable as community. I also bring this up because I and other Black book professionals received requests for educational reading during the protests for Black Lives Matter, and I’m already hearing about requests for books to meet this political moment.
All Access members, read on!
