Where Is Afrori Books Now?

It's that time of year when I find myself reflecting on how far we've come and asking the question "where is Afrori Books now?".

It's a bit surreal to think back to when we opened Afrori Books four years ago, and social media was flooded with black squares. Individuals, charities, and big corporations were all loudly declaring the importance of standing against racism. Fast forward to today, and we're faced with the far right on the move, radicalising groups, spreading misinformation, and even entering the realm of domestic terrorism.

If ever there was a moment for the Black community to shout, "I told you so," it's now. For the past four years, we've been warning that this was coming, but it feels like no one was truly listening. The events of the last week have only solidified what many of us have known all along: racists aren't just somewhere far away—they're right here in our towns and cities.

This reality hit close to home in Brighton, where Afrori Books found itself on the frontline of last week’s events. Images of thousands of anti-racists surrounding a small group of fascists have been seen around the world. Those images were taken just yards from our bookshop. So close, in fact, that we were considered a high-risk location. But despite the warnings and the fear, I made the decision to keep the shop open during the protest. It wasn’t an easy choice. My family, friends, and key community leaders all thought I should close the shop, but I knew we had to stand strong for the community. I couldn’t let the racists believe they had the power to shut us down.

So there we stood, the only business in the area that remained open. Our customers rallied around us, forming a guard outside the shop and offering their presence inside. It was heartening, but also devastating. We had to send staff members home because they were too scared to stay.

This doesn’t feel like progress. This isn’t where those black squares should have led us. It feels too much like the 80s when the National Front terrorised our streets, and we had to know when to walk in pairs and, most importantly, when to run for safety.

The past few days have left me in a numb fog. I feel anxious around strangers, questioning the motives of those around me. Because the other thing I saw that night was the people who turned back. Several individuals walked towards the meeting point, saw the crowds, zipped up their hoodies to hide their shirts, and disappeared. It’s a small victory, but it leaves me wondering, "where do we stand now? Where did they go? Are they on my street? Are they waiting to pop in when the shop is quieter?" The truth is, racism is closer than you think. And while this isn’t new information, the events of the last few days have made that truth even more painful.

But I won’t stay in this place of despair. There are too many stories of victory. The retired grey-haired woman who insisted on sitting in our window because, “No one messes with grey-haired white women, and that’s how I’ll use my privilege.” The customers who came in for a hug, the ones who stood sentry outside the shop—sometimes twenty at a time. Friends who travelled from outside Brighton to be a peaceful presence in the shop. An author who was visiting the city and insisted on coming back that evening to stand with us. The thank-yous that poured in throughout the evening from the community, the cards, emails, phone calls, and texts that cheered me on.

Last week my daughter sent me this quote and said "This is you, mum".

"People speak of hope as if it is this delicate, ephemeral thing made of whispers and spiders webs. It's not. Hope has dirt on her face, blood on her knuckles, the grit of the cobblestones in her hair, and just spat out a tooth as she rises for another go" 

So, when I think about what four years of Afrori Books means and we are now, it’s clear: it’s about the community we’ve helped build, the lives our books, events, workshops, and space have touched. Being part of a community means knowing we don’t stand alone. It means understanding that, despite the pain, it’s worth standing firm—not for the sake of it, not for our own glory, but to give a voice to those who can’t. Wherever we can, Afrori will stand against injustice and always be a safe space for Black people and their allies.

Thanks for being with us. Thanks for being the change.