It’s Black History Month, and like many others in my position, I was about to curate a list of exceptional Black authors to celebrate Black excellence. As I spoke with Kinga about this idea, it began to feel wrong, like it could be perceived as an oversimplification of Black excellence or even tokenism.
My work at Brandspire involves creating copy and content that actually resonates, so I questioned myself. Sure, a list highlighting ten people doing exceptional things is great, but what happens after it goes out? It gets liked, celebrated, and reposted—maybe a few people comment about how life-changing those books were. And then, it stops—the conversation slows down, the spotlight is withdrawn, and the momentum is gone.
It’s not that there’s anything wrong with celebrating people who’ve defied the odds to achieve success. They deserve to be recognised. But a list feels like a momentary gesture—a nod to diversity because it’s October—rather than something meaningful. It’s like we’re saying, “Here, look at these Black voices, isn’t that enough?” But we can’t just check the box and move on. Highlighting a few high achievers shouldn’t be a once-a-year thing; these voices should be woven into the everyday fabric of the industry. It’s not just about fading attention; it’s that without ongoing effort, these achievements get lost in snapshots of momentary recognition, lacking the sustained impact needed for real change.
Representation Matters—But Is It Enough?
The truth is, I’ve been thinking a lot about representation lately, especially as someone who didn’t always identify as “Black” in the way the term is used here in the West. Before I came to the UK for my MSc, I never felt like a minority. Growing up in Nigeria, being Black was just… normal. It wasn’t until I moved here that I started seeing my skin colour affect the way I was perceived. I’ve had my hair yanked because it was “exotic,” been asked outright when I’d be “going home,” and I’ve walked into rooms where I was the only person who looked like me.
Back home, I never had to second-guess whether a bookshop or library would carry stories that reflected my experiences, It was easy to pick up the latest copy of Sefi Attah’s book, or to find an old classic like Jagua Nana, and get Arese’s ‘The Smart Money Woman’. But here, well… I never expected to find these same books here but it’s clear that some narratives are still seen as niche rather than necessary. I know this is a predominantly white country, and some moments like these are inevitable. But in spaces where stories shape culture, like publishing, there’s room for so much more. Why settle for the occasional list or a once-a-year shoutout? When we only celebrate Black authors during Black History Month, it reinforces the idea that our stories are special occasions rather than integral parts of the industry.
Publishing, in particular, seems stuck in this dynamic. It’s not just about who gets to write the books—it’s also about who’s behind the scenes, deciding which stories deserve to be told. This industry has a well-documented diversity problem, and it shows. Despite being based in London, where 40% of the population comes from Black, Asian, and minority ethnic backgrounds, publishing remains one of the least diverse creative industries in the UK, with around 95% of its workforce being white. While there has been some progress—ethnic minority representation increased from 15% to 17% in 2022—these numbers still don’t paint the full picture. Particularly for Black authors and professionals, who make up only 3% of the UK population, their presence is still a drop in the literary ocean.
Going Beyond the List
At Brandspire, we’re not claiming to have all the answers. Like many in this industry, we’re still learning, questioning our approach, and trying to figure out what role we can play in meaningful change. We know that a list of Black authors, while well-meaning, only scratches the surface of the deeper conversations that need to happen.
As Black History Month wraps up, I’m not putting out a list. Not because it’s a bad idea, but because it feels like a band-aid solution. Instead, I’m asking myself—and anyone reading this—how do we keep these conversations alive year-round? How do we ensure that Black voices aren’t just a fleeting moment in the spotlight but an integral part of the story we tell in publishing?
We need publishers who commit to commissioning diverse stories year-round, not just during designated months. We need to see mentorship programs that give Black professionals a clear path to entering and excelling in this industry. And more importantly, we need people behind the scenes—editors, agents, marketers—who understand, champion, and prioritise these stories.
The Real Work Begins Now
The momentum around diversity in publishing shouldn’t be a momentary spotlight. Real change requires more than just performative gestures. It requires dismantling the structures that keep certain voices out and creating an industry where everyone, regardless of background, has an equal opportunity to thrive.
As Black History Month comes to a close, I’m challenging myself—and anyone reading this—to think bigger, to do more, and to ensure that Black voices are celebrated not just for a month but as part of the everyday fabric of the industry.
So, if you’ve made it this far, I’ll leave you with this question: What are you willing to do—whether as an individual or an organisation—to ensure that Black voices are woven into the everyday narrative, fostering true inclusion and representation?
Hoping for meaningful progress,
Tofunmi
