We’ve Lost the Plot…

Bring y’all asses in here. It’s time for a family meeting!

The online book community has been in fucking shambles over the past week, and I’m tired. (Yes, I’m cussing’ and if you don’t like it leave now.)

You got influencers at each other’s necks. Event organizers arguing with the timeline and throwing subliminals left and right. Regular readers are confused about the mess but still adding their two cents. Authors are catching strays that were never even meant for them.

Enough is enough!

A wise woman once said, “Why are we not reading?” -JaleesaReads, and I would like to know the answer.

It’s gotten so out of hand that a few of our favorite familiar faces are considering taking extended breaks from the online community or saying “Fuck it” altogether, and I cannot blame them.

Who wants to log online and keep seeing foolishness?

When Did It Get This Messy?!

This used to be a space built on love. Love for books, for storytelling, for Black creativity.

Now it feels like we’re trapped in a loop of chaos. Every day there’s a new situation, a new thread, a new beef disguised as a “discussion.” The same people who used to promote authors are now promoting drama.

And it’s sad because we created something beautiful here. A place where Black readers, authors, and creators could see ourselves, build something from the ground up, and show that our stories matter. But lately, it feels like we forgot the mission.

What started as community now feels like commentary.

What started as connection now feels like competition.

We’re Losing the Plot, Literally

Let’s be honest: we’ve become spectators instead of supporters.

Reading has taken a backseat to reacting. Books are no longer the focus. Beefs are.

We’re debating discourse more than we’re discussing chapters.

We’ve turned literature into a trending topic and attention into currency.

Meanwhile, authors, the very people whose work made this space possible, are being dragged into nonsense they never signed up for. They’re watching the community they write for crumble under gossip, alliances, and unspoken tensions.

We can’t call ourselves a literary community when some of us haven’t cracked open a book all month.

We can’t claim Black literary excellence when we would rather screenshot and subtweet than sit down and read.

Be Fucking For Real…

The Mean Girls are calling people Mean Girls.

Cut the shit! Do you know we can see you?!

A lot of y’all keep up bullshit and then run when it becomes too much.

I. Am. Sick. Of. It. The shit has become insufferable.

Let’s not act like some of y’all aren’t known for keeping up a cesspool of bullshit.

Talking shit on TikTok Lives, posting subliminal messages on Threads, and being cryptic in your IG stories is all bullshit behavior.

And I’m not coming for one person or a subgroup of people. I’m talking about the community as a whole.

We’re ALL guilty, either as active participants or silent witnesses.

Because silence is complicity. Every time we scroll past foolishness and say “not my business,” it becomes our business when the culture suffers for it.

It’s wild how we can be loud about protecting Black women, supporting indie authors, and building community but stay quiet when those same people are being torn down publicly.

We can’t keep pretending the problem is “them” when the mirror is screaming “you.”

Nobody wants to admit that ego, entitlement, and attention have turned this community toxic.

And again, this isn’t about one person or one situation. It’s about the totality of things that have been going on (I have to keep saying this before some takes it personal)

And if you feel like I’m talking about you, WHOOPTY DOO!

In my eyes, we’re all guilty. Myself included.

I, like most of you, need a swift kick in the ass to not be entangled in the bullshit.

At This Point…

It doesn’t matter who’s right or wrong.

Forget the hot takes.

Forget the think pieces.

Forget the literary commentary.

None of this shit matters.

We have lost the plot, and if we don’t get it together, we’re going to lose it all.

The credibility. The respect. The opportunity. The legacy.

We can’t expect publishers, sponsors, or new readers to take us seriously if we don’t even take ourselves seriously. We can’t ask for more visibility when all they see is volatility.

Where’s the Accountability?!

Everybody wants to be seen as “that girl” or “that platform,” but nobody wants to take responsibility for how we got here.

People move like the internet won’t archive every bad decision, every messy thread, every name half-dropped in a Live.

The energy we waste on beef could have been used to build.

We could’ve been creating book grants, hosting city-wide reading challenges, sponsoring author tours, or mentoring upcoming creators.

What a lot of us have failed to realize is that many of your mutuals in this space have to be treated like coworkers.

You don’t necessarily have to like them, but you do have to know how to show up, get along, and get the job done.

Professionalism doesn’t require friendship. It requires respect. And that’s where a lot of people keep fumbling.

Instead, we’re chasing validation from algorithms that don’t even respect us.

If you’re tired too, you’re not alone.

I love this community deeply. But that love is being tested. And love without accountability is just enabling.

A Reality Check

Maybe some of us need to admit that the book community has outgrown its original purpose.

What started as passion turned into performance.

What started as freedom of expression turned into fear of cancellation. Some people are afraid to post opinions about a book because of who might subtweet them next. Others are writing disclaimers before every review just to avoid being dragged. That’s not community. That’s control. And it’s a damn shame.

What’s the Solution?

Honestly I don’t know. Maybe it’s time for silence.

A reset.

A Black Book Community Blackout.

Twenty-four hours of logging off. No threads, no subliminals, no gossip.

Just people picking up a book again, because that’s what brought us here in the first place. We don’t have to like each other. We don’t have to agree. But we do have to respect the work, the art, and the space.

Because this right here?

Ain’t community.

It’s chaos.

And I, for one, am choosing peace over pettiness.

Until next time, read something that reminds you why you fell in love with books in the first place. Stay off the internet. And find something productive to do.

Xo,

Charlee