There is a common assumption that people open bookstores because they love books.
That part is true. It is just not the whole story.
Most independent bookstore owners start with a love of reading, of learning, of the way a good book can hand you a different life for a few hours. What fewer people realize is how hard it is to turn that love into something that actually stays open.
I have spent the past several years learning that firsthand, building The Ink Crypt from the ground up. Along the way, I have come to appreciate the role African American bookstores play in our communities, and the obstacles owners face just to keep the lights on.
The conversation about Black-owned bookstores tends to center on culture, history, and representation. All of that matters. But there is another conversation that deserves just as much attention, and it gets far less of it: sustainability.
How do we make sure these stores do not just open their doors, but stay open for generations?
I think the answer starts with understanding why they matter in the first place.
A Personal Journey Into Books
My relationship with books started long before The Ink Crypt existed.
My grandmother was an elementary school teacher who believed, all the way down, in the power of education. My mother was a university professor who filled our home with books and ideas and the kind of curiosity that doesn’t turn off at dinner. Reading was never a chore in my house. It was just part of life, the way weather is part of life.
That foundation followed me into my first job, at the University of North Carolina Press, when I was still in high school. Looking back, I was an immature teenager still trying to figure out where I fit in the world. The staff there didn’t treat me that way. They welcomed me in, and they showed me that books are more than products on a shelf. They are conversations between generations. They are a chance to learn from people we will never meet. History, imagination, and possibility, bound together between two covers.
I loved every minute of it, and I have carried it with me ever since.
Years later, what began as a love of reading turned into a hobby, and the hobby grew past anything I expected it to. Eventually, it became The Ink Crypt.
I did not start with investors, or a large budget, or a detailed business plan. I started with books, some stubbornness, and the belief that connecting people with literature still matters, even now.
The Historical Importance of African American Bookstores
African American bookstores have always done more than sell books.
Throughout our history, Black-owned bookstores have served as educational centers, cultural institutions, and community gathering spaces — places where stories overlooked by mainstream publishing could still find their readers.
During the Civil Rights Movement, Black bookstores were often hubs for intellectual discussion and community organizing. They gave people access to authors, ideas, and perspectives that larger retailers simply did not carry.
Stores like Marcus Books in Oakland, Hakim’s Bookstore in Philadelphia, and Lewis Michaux’s National Memorial African Bookstore in Harlem became landmarks in their communities. They proved that a bookstore could preserve culture while also supporting literacy and economic opportunity, all at the same time.
That mission continues today.
African American bookstores help readers discover diverse voices, support emerging authors, and hold onto stories that might otherwise be forgotten. They serve communities that understand what it means to see themselves reflected on the page.
And yet, for all that importance, these bookstores face many of the same challenges as independent booksellers everywhere.
The Myth of Bookstore Ownership
People tend to romanticize bookstore ownership.
They picture a cozy reading corner, unhurried conversations about literature, quiet afternoons surrounded by favorite books.
The reality looks a little different.
Bookstore owners spend their hours managing inventory, processing orders, maintaining a website, balancing a budget, answering customer questions, tracking what marketing is actually working, negotiating with suppliers, and trying to plan a few steps ahead. The books are the heart of it, but they are only one part of the job.
If there is one misconception I would love to clear up, it’s the idea that bookselling is a stable, comfortably profitable industry. It isn’t, not really. Margins are thin. Buying habits keep shifting. Large online retailers have reset what people expect on price and shipping speed, and bookstores are competing for attention against social media, streaming, and a hundred other things pulling at people’s time.
The question was never whether people love books. Most people do.
The real question is whether a bookstore can build a business model sturdy enough to survive on that love.
The Real Barrier: Turning Passion Into a Sustainable Business
When people ask me about the barriers facing African American bookstore owners, they often assume race is the main one.
Race can absolutely shape someone’s access to opportunity, and I don’t want to wave that away. But in my own experience, the biggest obstacle is usually the same one facing independent bookstores of every background: sustainability.
Passion is not in short supply. Funding is.
Building a bookstore takes inventory, technology, marketing, shipping supplies, a working website, and operating capital just to get through the first stretch, before there’s a steady customer base to lean on.
The trouble is, most funding programs are built for businesses that have already proven themselves. New bookstore owners often find out that grants, loans, and business assistance programs want six months, a year, sometimes longer of operating history before they’ll even consider an application. Many also want to see website traffic, customer growth, social proof.
So you end up in a strange loop. You need resources to grow, but you need growth before anyone will give you the resources.
If I could point policymakers, lenders, and community organizations toward one change that would matter most for the next generation of African American bookstore owners, it would be this: easier access to startup funding, before the track record exists to justify it on paper.
The Social Media Trap
Here’s the lesson that surprised me the most while building The Ink Crypt.
More and more, lenders and funding organizations want to see your social media presence before they’ll even look at your bookshelves.
There was a time when a bookstore earned its credibility by opening its doors, serving people well, and letting its reputation build in the neighborhood over time. Now, a lot of organizations want to see website traffic, engagement numbers, reviews, an email list, an active feed, before they’ll take a chance on you.
Some days it feels like a bookstore has to become a small media company before it’s allowed to become a bookstore.
That shift has changed what the job actually is. Independent booksellers today aren’t just curators of literature anymore. We’re photographers, marketers, content creators, website managers, and, whether we planned on it or not, brand builders.
The books are still the point. But increasingly, staying visible online is what decides whether anyone gets the chance to find them.
Community Is Still Everything
If there’s one thing that decides whether an independent bookstore survives, it’s community.
Word of mouth is still one of the most powerful forces in bookselling, maybe the most powerful. Independent stores don’t have the advertising budgets the big retailers have. What we have is customers who tell their friends, share a post, leave a review, and speak up for us when it counts.
That matters even more for a store like mine.
A brick-and-mortar shop gets some benefit just from foot traffic. Someone walks by, sees something in the window, wanders in. Online stores don’t get that. There’s no accidental customer. Every single person who finds The Ink Crypt found it through a search, a share, a recommendation, or an ad. Nothing about it is automatic.
Without that community behind you, even a beautifully curated bookstore can go unnoticed.
So a bookstore has to do more than sell books. It has to build relationships, one reader at a time.
Education, Literacy, and Community Growth
For me, this all comes back to education.
Literacy opens doors. Education strengthens whole communities. Reading builds critical thinking, empathy, curiosity, the kind of leadership that starts quietly and grows.
My grandmother understood that as a teacher. My mother understood it as a professor. The people who mentored me at UNC Press understood it too, and they passed that understanding on to a kid who didn’t know yet how much it would matter to him.
Every book is a chance for someone to learn something new, sit inside a different perspective for a while, or run into an idea that changes how they see things.
That’s why bookstores still matter, even in a world that keeps getting more digital.
A bookstore’s value was never just the number of books it sells. It’s measured in the conversations it starts, the readers it helps grow, and the community it leaves a little stronger than it found it.
Looking Toward the Future
There are real reasons for hope here.
Recent industry research counted more than 300 Black-owned bookstores operating across the United States. That’s still a small number next to the broader bookselling landscape, but it’s a growing network of people who decided this work was worth doing.
The challenges are still real, too. Many Black-owned bookstores run on modest revenue and limited resources. Funding is still hard to come by. Competition is fierce, and everyone’s attention is scattered across more platforms and distractions than ever.
I’m optimistic anyway.
The Ink Crypt has already had wins that matter to me, even if they’d look small from the outside. We’ve served customers. We’ve made sales. We’ve heard from readers who genuinely appreciate what we’re building. That’s not nothing. To an independent bookseller, that’s progress, and I’ll take it.
Every bookstore that manages to stay open adds something to a much bigger ecosystem, one built on literacy, education, and community.
Support Your Bookstore
If there’s one thing I hope you take from this, it’s simple: support your bookstore.
Buy a book. Leave a review. Tell a friend about a store you love. Share a post. Show up to an author event. Sign up for a newsletter.
Every one of those things matters more than people realize.
Independent bookstores can’t survive on admiration alone. We survive because communities decide to invest in us, in small ways, over and over.
African American bookstores matter because they preserve stories, encourage learning, strengthen communities, and open doors for the next generation of readers.
Whether it’s The Ink Crypt or an independent bookstore in your own town, your support is what keeps these places alive.
Books connect us to ideas. Bookstores connect us to each other.
That connection is worth holding onto.
Until next time,
Victor Harris Founder, The Ink Crypt
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