The Publishing Industry Erases Black Voices

The Publishing Industry Erases Black Voices

“If there’s a book that you want to read, but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” — Toni Morrison

I stumbled across this quote when I was fifteen years old. I remember feeling angered by the book industry, and the media for how Muslims and Black people were portrayed. The erasure of our voices angered me. I was tired of the misrepresentation of Muslims in the media and the perpetuation of stereotypes against Muslim women. My love for reading had severely declined because I found myself disconnected from the books I was reading. I could no longer find the escape reading brought me. 

Instead of complaining about the lack of diversity in the books I was reading, I decided to create the representation I yearned to see. I was young and had no idea that representation didn’t just mean the author writing the book, but the agents, editors, and the company executives. I thought I just had to write the book and the rest would come easy.

Aisha Yusuf reading her novel A Race To The Finish Line. Photo by Salma Yusuf

Aisha Yusuf reading her novel A Race To The Finish Line. Photo by Salma Yusuf

When I started the querying process, I sent my manuscript to agents who emphasized diversity and #ownvoice stories. I was elated to see how the publishing industry was taking steps towards inclusivity. Unfortunately, I got rejected by all of the agents I queried. However, the personalized rejections I was receiving from these agents were very interesting.

“Aaleyah is a terrific character and I’m all for seeing more positive portrayals of Muslim women in literature! Unfortunately, after careful consideration, I’ve decided I’m not the best agent to represent this book. I’m simply not enthusiastic enough about my ability to sell this work to offer representation.”

— agent

Rejection after rejection flooded my inbox. They all followed the same tone as the one above. I’m very grateful for this experience because my eyes wouldn’t have been opened to see the publishing industry’s violence without it. After all the rejections, I went on a mission to find every Young Adult (YA) novel featuring a Muslim girl. I went to the Edmonton libraries that had the books I was looking for and checked out all the books about a Muslim girl I could find. If it wasn’t available at the library, I went out and bought it. My findings were quite disheartening. I couldn’t find a book featuring a Black Muslim girl; However, what I did find was quite illuminating. 

The vast majority of the books featuring a young Muslim girl fell into two categories: it was either about terrorism or a white boy saving the protagonist from her “oppressive” religion. The book always had to center the protagonist's faith. I couldn’t find a mystery, fantasy, or dystopian novel where the heroine was a visible Muslim girl. If it wasn’t about the struggles of her religion, whether internally or externally, it wasn’t going to get published. The industry proved that. 

An estimate of 30,000 YA books are published each year. That number is probably more, taking into account the rise in self-publishing. If you search up books about a Muslim protagonist, you’ll only find about 40––the earliest YA novel published about a Muslim girl that I could find was Does My Head Look Big In This by Randa Abdel-Fattahs, which was published in 2007. Most of the books came afterwards. If an estimated 30,000 YA novels are published in a year, since 2007, 390,000 YA novels were published. Of that 390 000, I was only able to find 40 novels featuring a Muslim protagonist on the internet, with less than 5 of those 40 novels featuring a Black Muslim protagonist.

The same goes for stories about Black protagonists in YA novels. YA novels featuring Black characters started inching upward in 2015. From 2000 to 2015, I was only able to find 12 YA novels with a Black protagonist. From 2016 to 2020, there has been an estimate of 62 YA novels featuring a Black protagonist. 2019 was the year with the highest number of YA novels with a Black protagonist published with a record of 18 books. If on estimate, 30,000 YA novels are published in a year––that means since 2000––an estimated 600,000 YA novels were published. In total, since 2000, I am only able to find around — being generous — 150 YA novels with a Black protagonist on the internet.

When we take a look at the industry as a whole, these numbers will start to make a lot more sense. We often talk about the need for Black authors, but there are a lot of Black writers out there, their stories are just not getting published. It’s because of the demographic of the people publishing these books. 

We often talk about the need for Black authors, but there are a lot of Black writers out there, their stories are just not getting published.

A 2019 survey result by Lee & Low Books about diversity revealed the extent to which the industry had a diversity problem. According to the survey results, 80% of literary agents are White, and 4% are Black/Afro-American/Afro-Caribbean. In marketing and publicity, 74% are White, and 4% are Black/Afro-American/Afro-Caribbean. Editorial is made up of 85% White and 1% Black/Afro-American/Afro-Caribbean. 

We usually focus on diversity in the books being published, but the focus should be on who is publishing these books. These numbers put into perspective the severity of the issue. To put it simply, the publishing industry erases Black voices. On average we see 10 YA novels getting published in a year, and we praise the industry for becoming more inclusive. Compare that to the 30,000 YA novels getting published each year. Puts it into perspective, doesn’t it? 

Co-founders of Abayo House. From left to Right Aisha Yusuf, Maymuuna, Samia, and  Juweria. Photo by Salma Yusuf

Co-founders of Abayo House. From left to Right Aisha Yusuf, Maymuuna, Samia, and Juweria. Photo by Salma Yusuf

I knew after all the rejections I received, I would not be published with a traditional publishing company. The publishing company I co-founded with my sisters, Abāyo House, started out of necessity. We needed to create a space for our stories to live authentically. As Black Muslim women, we witness our stories being diluted at best or erased altogether––which is more common than what is believed. The need became apparent when we realized my manuscript did not belong in the current publishing industry to be published. This revelation propelled us to be proactive and take matters into our own hands and do everything in our ability to give this book the best care and respect it requires––knowing it would not have received it otherwise. As we progressed with our first manuscript’s publishing process, it became even more apparent the industry’s monumental and gross disservice to non-white demographics–specifically Black and Muslim narratives.

There’s a lot of work to get done, and #ownvoices isn’t the diversity we’re looking for. It’s a distraction to make us believe the industry is becoming more inclusive when that is farthest from the truth.

There’s a lot of work to get done, and #ownvoices isn’t the diversity we’re looking for. It’s a distraction to make us believe the industry is becoming more inclusive when that is farthest from the truth. True diversity starts at the top. It’s hiring more Black literary agents, editors, and executives. If our voices mattered, these steps would have already been taken. The truth is, if we want our stories told, we must create our own spaces to do so. If we keep relying on an industry that is deliberately shutting us out to publish our stories, these numbers will never change. 

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Tyra Erskine

Tyra Erskine

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