Bookstore owner Danielle Moore remembers the summer of 2020 at Semicolon Books vividly.
In the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder that May, there was a noticeable surge in patrons at Moore’s bookstore that promotes Black writers and writers of color.
As a Black-owned bookstore in Chicago, Semicolon saw excellent business the rest of that year. Still, it was unexpectedly difficult for the bookstore to balance the intense emotions of shoppers, plus their own, Moore says.
“It was a rough moment because we were always working. We were dealing with our emotions of the moment, with the George Floyd situation, and during COVID with everything being shut down, and there’s nobody to emote with.”
Now, the bookstore is going through another rough spot. Moore announced in January the two locations of Semicolon Books — one that opened in 2024 on the Magnificent Mile and one in West Town — would be closing this year. She later announced that due to lease obligations, the West Town location would remain open and fundraise to add a coffee shop.
Black booksellers say they experienced a surge in attention during 2020’s racial justice movements, with an influx of corporate and individual support during the Black Lives Matter protests.
But by 2025, Chicago’s Black bookstore scene, owners and analysts say, faces declining engagement, political shifts and reduced white allyship. The initial wave of solidarity has largely receded, they say. This plus a post-COVID economic downturn and the popularity of online retailers has left businesses navigating low-profit margins and wavering sales.
A long history
The city of Chicago only has a handful of Black-owned bookstores, the Sun-Times found.
This is unusual for a city that welcomed Black-owned bookstores earlier than many cities.
“Chicago has a really long history of Black booksellers that goes back at least to the 1940s,” said Joshua Clark Davis, a historian at the University of Baltimore.
Nationally, the first “big wave” of Black-owned bookstores came in the 1960s and 1970s, Davis said, when they acted as community centers and became spaces for political activity.
“Black people who open bookstores do not only because they love books, but usually, there’s also been a political or social mission,” said Davis, the author of “From Head Shops to Whole Foods,” which partially examines Black-owned bookstores that emerged from protest movements of the ‘60s and ‘70s.
Popularity came in waves for these businesses, spiking in the 1970s, the 1990s during the rise of Black nationalism, then decreasing with the arrival of Amazon, e-books and audiobooks in the 2000s and 2010s.
“In the ’90s, Chicago had [around] 24 Black bookstores. Now, I’m the last one standing from that era,” said Yoel Ahmechshadye, owner of Underground Bookstore in Calumet Heights since 1994.
The 2020 surge
Independent bookselling had hit a low point, Davis said, and was starting to come back around in 2020. Along with it, the death of George Floyd galvanized Black communities, leading to a reckoning with systemic racism.
This led to a boom in business for Black-owned bookstores, where demand for books on antiracism kept Chicago-area stores busy.
Soon, Semicolon and other Black-owned bookstores were featured in national stories detailing the demand for antiracism titles. Publications like The New York Times declared Black-owned bookstores “overwhelmed” with book sales.
Corporations, eager to prove their allyship, called in bulk orders for books like Ibram X. Kendi’s “How to Be an Antiracist.” But it didn’t last long, owners said.
“2020 was our best year—corporations and donors flooded us with book drives and fundraisers. But priorities shifted, and now we fight to stay visible,” said Jurema Gorham, owner of Burst Into Books Community Arts Space in Roseland.
“After George Floyd, I got checks and orders nationwide… but it stopped after a few months,” said Ahmechshadye.“They made an effort, but effort without continuity means nothing.”
‘Corporate donors vanished’
Corporate orders collapsed by 2022 as companies prioritized cheaper retailers, like Amazon. So did individual buyers and donors — all of which, over time, has left Black-owned bookstores fighting slim profit margins, high costs and declining support.
“Corporate donors vanished by 2022. They’d say, ‘Amazon’s cheaper’ — as if supporting us was just a trend,” said Moore.
Courtney Bledsoe, owner of Hyde Park’s Call and Response, said individual buyers may have been “virtue-signaling.”
“They treated [racial justice] like a moment, not a mindset shift,” said the former lawyer.
“The 2020 surge felt like guilt shopping after George Floyd. Real support means consistency — not just buying Black when it’s trending,” said Courtney Woods, co-owner of Da Book Joint in South Shore.
Davis suggests a noticeable rightward shift in the political climate also contributed to the reduced support.
“I think maybe things are getting a little tougher now, for Black bookstores in particular, because of this big backlash against basically antiracism and calling out racism that’s happening,” the historian said.
Longterm support from all patrons — including stalwart Black buyers — is key to survival, particularly during times of economic downturn post-COVID.
“When Dani [Moore of Semicolon] closed their store, it was heartbreaking,” Gorham added. “They’d struggled for years to get consistent support… The community doesn’t always realize how vital their role is in keeping us open.”
What does a Black-owned bookstore offer communities?
In stores like Semicolon, Hyde Park’s Call and Response, the mother-daughter owned Da Book Joint, Underground Bookstore and Burst Into Books, many of the books are written by Black authors and authors of color and are curated according to reader demand and staff interest.
“We’re not a ‘niche’ store. We carry every genre — just by Black authors. White bookstores aren’t called ‘niche’ for stocking 99% white stories,” said Woods, co-owner of Da Book Joint.
But assumptions about what Black bookstores offer are often incorrect, said Bledsoe of Call and Response.
“People view anything with a Black person on the cover as a ‘struggle story.’ But our stories are human stories—romance, sci-fi, joy. They deserve the same shelf space as NYT bestsellers,” she said. “This space is for communal exchange…not just reserved for Black readers.”
And online retailers don’t provide what local bookshops do, owners said.
“We can’t compete on price, so we compete on purpose: events, author talks and conversations you can’t get online,” said Woods’ mother and co-owner Verlean Singletary, 54.
Books for children are also featured in many of the spaces.
“Our goal is to make sure kids find books they relate to. They see kids that look like them, stories they connect with – that fosters a love for reading,” said Singletary. “We break even, not profit. This isn’t about salaries – it’s a mission. We’ll keep fighting because our community deserves this space.”
Ahmechshadye wants to expand his crowded bookstore into a larger space displaying rare books and a juice bar but said he’s been close to closing up shop many times.
“I shouldn’t have to struggle,” said the bookstore owner, 69. “Because this is the third largest city in the country. It’s enough people in Chicago — Black people especially — to be able to support the last remaining Black bookstores.”
“Many times I thought about closing,” he added. “But then a young person walks in lost, seeking answers. That’s who I stay for.”
