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Shop Talk with Ashley Valentine of Rooted MKE

Ashley Valentine is the founder and owner of Rooted MKE, a BIPOC children’s bookstore, makerspace, and academic support center. Rooted MKE opened in March 2022 and is based in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. You can follow Rooted MKE on Instagram.

Tell me about your journey to becoming a bookseller. 

I would certainly say that I am a non-traditional bookseller and bookstore owner. My background is in education; I was previously a Special Education Teacher and owning a bookstore was a dream that I didn’t know would ever come to fruition in the way that it had. I opened Rooted MKE to serve a need for Milwaukee. As an educator, the stories within the curriculum, in my school libraries and provided in my classroom did not look like the community I was serving. I often felt that the challenges many of my students faced related to comprehension and reluctance to experience literature were attributed to the lack of representation. I also felt that there was a lack of community outside of the school setting for families looking for literature reflective of their family and community they call home. I wanted to create space for a community I felt wasn’t celebrated authentically.

How did you come to love books and literacy?

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love reading and interacting with books. I recall a time in elementary school at La Escuela Fratney where I was celebrated for my literacy skills at a young age. This really fostered a sense of pride in literacy and made me feel seen amongst my peers. It validated my love of reading and made me feel safe to continue to challenge myself in the area of literacy.

What do you see as the role of bookstores and booksellers in your community?

I think that my role as a bookseller is to educate, gather and create a haven for Black & Brown people in my community. In general, a bookstore should be a space for gathering, safety and be a home for those interested in literary experiences and building a community for their literacy related needs to be met in a safe, inviting atmosphere. A bookstore should also be the place for education, enrichment and exploration. The idea that people need to “do the work” on their own is lonely and urges those who that message speaks to, to shut down. Instead, I want to be a place where those individuals come, ask questions, listen, listen deeper and leave with tools for their toolkit in order to challenge their perspective and plant a seed for change or deeper awareness.

On your About page, you mention that “there are not many spaces in Milwaukee for black and brown youth to experience literacy.” What longing does your bookstore fulfill for you?

Milwaukee is my hometown and now the place where I choose to raise my multiracial (White and Black) family. My bookstore exists because I didn’t see it. In every bookstore I’ve visited, Black books are in a section while White books are celebrated from wall to wall. That is a problem and instead of asking for something different, I decided to try to create a solution.

How has the community received your bookstore?

I think the community has shown me further why what I am doing is important. I have the amazing opportunity to collaborate with brands nationally and locally, authors and publishers, to spotlight the significance of representation and literacy! 

Tell me a little bit about the neighborhood you chose, which you call on your website “cozy, West Vliet Street.”

I was not intentionally looking for a home on West Vliet Street. I think that divinely, Vliet Street has become home. I first visited the space for a friend who also owns a children’s business and was moving back to the City from Denver. We’d arrived and my girlfriend shared that she wouldn’t be coming but I felt obligated to continue showing out of respect for the realtor. I’d taken pictures and asked questions and immediately called my husband to complain! He quickly challenged me to look at the space as if it were a home to the business that I’d mapped out in 100 different iterations in my “dream notebook.” We scheduled a second showing the next day and I spent the weekend drafting a thorough proposal to the property owner with strong interest in the space. 

Here we are two years later! I appreciate the walkability of West Vliet Street, the ability to connect with so many families who live in the area and the proximity between Milwaukee and Wauwatosa. I appreciate the proximity to Milwaukee Public Schools as well! It is a little challenging to be a proud Black business with a strong mission that leads my decisions in a space where I seemingly stand alone—alone, as in, not a large representation of Black people around where the business is located. I’ve taken that as an opportunity to really be an early depiction of diversity and Black women’s leadership in a space where people need to see it.

We’re in a fraught political time of book bans and the suppression of marginalized histories. How does that ongoing environment affect the way you select books or advocate for your community? 

I say pretty confidently that book bans are the extension of the amplified voice of fear and dominance of White people. I can empathize with how intimidating and threatening it can feel to have the power that you have worked decades to create, nurture, and leverage, questioned and challenged so loudly. I think that book banning is an example of intention and targeting attempts to erase and silence the experience of anyone, not White and cis-gendered. I am not baffled or surprised. I think people hold strongly to beliefs that are ingrained in who they are as a race and though they may not vocalize these biases as boldly, politically we have emboldened hate, violence and rage. 

These bans are not about Black and Brown authors that they disproportionately impact. It feels like a strategic effort to erase history and silence the voices of those who are a threat. It further invigorates me to keep going and along the way make space for those same people to be educated, gently through the lens of a children’s educator and bookseller. 

Research shows that talking about issues like race and gender from the age of two not only helps children understand what they see, but also increases self-awareness, self-esteem, and allows them to recognize and confront things that are unfair, like discrimination and prejudice. Though children’s books are targeted at children, they do a beautiful job at making messages palatable for the adults who are reading the books to said children. [Books like] You Be Mommy by Karla Clark, as well as Our Skin by Jessica Ralli and Megan Madison, in this season of parenting, live in my heart rent-free! For me, it’s a bold way to start a safe conversation about accountability and awareness to create a shift in perspective. 

What are the most enjoyable and challenging aspects of owning a bookstore for you?

I absolutely love curating book collections, thinking up experiences for youth and families and being able to open up the space to like-minded people and organizations. I have a generous heart and have a habit of simply giving to children because I recognize that they don’t hold the means to be consumers. I absolutely hate having to make it make financial sense. What I mean by that is, at the end of the day, I am a for-profit business and fully understand that I have commitments and obligations as a business owner that I am accountable for. Often I have to almost convince people that the suggested retail price of a book is what I expect to be paid. With larger organizations, the harmful logic that tiny businesses should offer a bulk purchase discount is stressful and impacts our bottom line, not the bottom line of the publisher. 

For 2024, I am strongly leaning into a pivot that allows me to be a present mother to my toddlers and regain a sense of who I am and why I do the work that I do without the pressures of succeeding at capitalism, as a member of the minority, as it relates to funding opportunities and venture capital opportunities. I love my work but not enough to keep sacrificing financially to contribute to the Milwaukee community.

What are you looking forward to at Rooted MKE this year?

I look forward to taking the lessons of two years of business and fine-tuning a more focused approach of supporting and building a community for educators, parents who are passionate about literacy, and corporations who want to see these communities thrive. I also would love to see Rooted MKE expand beyond a local brand! There are Black and Brown babies and families across the country who resonate with my message and vision. To build an entire ecosystem of Black and Brown literacy support that empowers parents would be huge! 

I also need to get better at reaching the people who already understand and are aligned with the mission, as compared to convincing people that what I contribute to the world is valuable. That may look like consulting or strategic partnerships to amplify our mission. Fingers crossed on a collaboration with Target, Kohls or major retailers, where Rooted MKE curates collections that feature Black and Brown characters. Rooted MKE is much more than a bookstore; it is truly a lifestyle that needs to be fed and nurtured daily to create change.



Black and Brown bookstores owners do the important work of curating, amplifying, and preserving the rich throughline of stories that feed us. They are vital members of our local and global communities. Where there is a movement, there are books. But who captures the stories of the booksellers themselves? In this column,
SHOP TALK, profiling booksellers, Dara Mathis turns the lens onto Black and Brown bookstores around the world, honoring the journeys that bring them to our neighborhoods.

Ten Questions for Jen Soriano

What inspired you to tell this story?

A lot of sleepless nights lying awake in pain! And Audre Lorde, whose book The Cancer Journals, was the first book that showed me a model of how to blend personal illness narrative with political analysis and purpose. In The Cancer Journals Audre Lorde wrote, “I had known the pain, and survived it. It only remained for me to give it voice, to share it for use, that the pain not be wasted.” I was thankfully not suffering from cancer, but I was living with invisible and debilitating chronic pain that seemed to demand a form of expression. So I took Lorde’s line as a mandate. How could I give voice to my pain and share it, so that it would not be wasted?

Also, I wrote this book to be my own witness and advocate for integrative health. I wanted to assemble a meaningful narrative about the chronic pain and mental health challenges I had experienced for most of my life, a deeper narrative than I ever got to share through doctor’s appointments or even psychotherapy. Writing Nervous allowed me to assemble fragments of diagnoses, small realizations from therapy, and insights from my own research into a larger health and wellness framework that incorporated not just my own lived experience, but ancestral history as well.

What did you edit out of this book?

A whole essay about the lack of mental health care I experienced while I was a college student in the 90s. It would have required a lot more investigative reporting to pass legal muster, and I decided to leave that for a possible future project on trauma-informed higher education.

How did you know you were done? What did you discover about yourself upon completion?

There were so many moments when I was done as in – I don’t think I can do this anymore! Writing personal narrative requires an enormous amount of emotional labor and at several points along the way I got so drained I wanted to give up. I had to draw on my best spiritual and artistic support people to revive and keep going. 

I knew I was actually finished with the whole manuscript after I read it out loud – twice – and every sentence read smoothly to me, and the concepts fit together like puzzle pieces. That’s not to say everything is resolved in the end. On the contrary, the essays I write are like mosaics with blank spaces and interruptions. But I worked to make sure that everything on the page was there for a reason, and that each component had a relationship to the rest of the fragments in a way that created useful meaning for myself and will hopefully do the same for readers.

Upon completion I discovered that much of the fear I had about sharing my personal story dissolved. I realized that the hardest part had been in the actual writing—which is to say, the excruciating reflection and digging for insight that is the process of writing personal essay and memoir—and that few critiques that come from the outside could be harsher than my own inner critic.

What was your agenting process like?

I spent about two years looking for an agent. I started querying a handful of agents as soon as I finished my MFA thesis, which was like a very first discovery draft. The only agent who replied said she couldn’t imagine a market for my book. That was rough. But I also knew it wasn’t true because I’ve always been clear on who my audience is and there are millions of us (BIPOC people who care about mental health). I worked on my manuscript without querying for another year, and when I queried again I reached out to about 65 agents. Six of them replied and three of them made offers. I was able to choose the one whose vision for the book most aligned with my own, and one who was willing to work with me on a book proposal that could sell.

What was the best money you ever spent as a writer?

Ummm…the inordinate amount of money I spend on candles? I light candles whenever I need to journey down into what I think of as that underground writing grotto where you can access deeper experience and insight than above ground everyday life allows. The flames help me feel accompanied in that process. Also I’m a fire sign and a pyro, so I burn through a lot of candles.

How many hours a day do you write? Break down your typical writing day.

I’m terrible at routine, which is why I work as a consultant for social justice organizations and campaigns – every day is different. As a working parent who wrote my book as my child grew from a baby to a nine-year-old, the only thing typical about my writing days was that I fit in writing whenever I could: tapping out ideas on my phone Scrivener app while on the bus or train, recording voice memos while preparing meals, writing in between meetings and after I put my kid to bed. Probably the most consistent times I would get writing done was in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep because of my chronic illness. Once I signed a contract and was lucky enough to receive an advance, I was able to focus on finishing the book. I set goals of six to ten hours of writing per week (that means time actually generating words or revising on the page) and then did research, interviews, reading as necessary around those core hours of writing.

What are your top three tips to help develop your writing muscle?

Read authors whom you admire, read as much as possible of what they write, and don’t be afraid to mimic or borrow their style as an exercise to help you develop your own.

Take craft classes wherever you can: libraries sometimes offer free classes, writers organizations like Hugo House and Vermont Studio Center and Hedgebrook offer online classes.

Believe in the stories that are inside of you. They deserve space to live and breathe. Try freewriting for short intervals, 15 to 25 minutes at a time, where you let whatever words need to come out flow from your pen or your keyboard, without self-censorship or self-criticism. Some of my favorite lines of my book have come from freewrites like this.

What does literary success look like to you?

Having my work contribute to deeper connections among people and to structural change. Specifically, connecting with others who come from backgrounds of historical trauma and who live with mental illness and chronic pain, and having conversations that advance causes touched on in my book. These include: advocating for cradle to grave integrative mental health care, advancing reproductive justice and more equitable care for Black and IPOC infants and birthing parents, and promoting investment in paid family leave and early childhood development as a public health-scale investment in trauma support and prevention.

What other authors are you friends with, and how do they help you become a better writer?

There are too many to list so apologies to anyone I don’t name here! But I have to give a shoutout to my friend Aimee Suzara, a poet and mother who was one of my first examples of a professional writer and performer who blended activism and art. Also Donna Miscolta and Michelle Peñaloza, who were my first writer friends in Seattle and who welcomed me into the literary network of the city. Angela Garbes whose older daughter was in a nanny share with my child and who has been a publishing mentor for me. And then there is a very special group of people who are part of a writers group called Luna Moon: Adriana Rambay, Constance Collier-Mercado, Ro Alegria, Chekwube Danladi, and Shilpi Suneja, whose stunning debut novel House of Caravans was published last September. These human beings have supported me and my writing unconditionally, and their feedback and artistry are deeply embedded in Nervous.

Who are you writing for?

Honestly, I wrote this for a 17 year old version of me – I wish I had had a book like this to read at that age. But in a broader sense I wrote Nervous for anyone who has felt lost and alone, anyone struggling with physical and/or emotional pain, anyone trying to make sense of what they carry in their body that might feel larger than themselves. Hopefully Nervous can help these readers realize that there’s hope and they aren’t alone at all.


Jen Soriano (she/they) is a Filipinx writer and movement builder who has long worked at the intersection of grassroots organizing, narrative strategy, and art-driven social change. Jen has won the International Literary Award for Creative Nonfiction, the Fugue Prose Prize, and fellowships from Hugo House, Vermont Studio Center, Artist Trust, and the Jack Jones Literary Arts Retreat. Jen is also an independent scholar and performer, author of the chapbook “Making the Tongue Dry,” and co-editor of Closer to Liberation: A Pina/xy Activist Anthology. She received a BA in History and Science from Harvard and an MFA in fiction and nonfiction from the Rainier Writing Workshop. Jen is also a co-founder of the cultural democracy institutions, MediaJustice and ReFrame. Originally from a landlocked part of the Chicago area, Jen now lives with her family in Seattle, near the Duwamish River and the Salish Sea. Her debut book, Nervous: Essays on Heritage and Healing, is now available from Amistad/HarperCollins.

Shop Talk with Tia Hamilton of Urban Reads Bookstore

Tia Hamilton is the founder and owner of Urban Reads Bookstore, which uplifts Black and incarcerated authors. Urban Reads is based in Baltimore, Maryland. You can follow and support Urban Reads on Instagram.

Tell me about your journey to become a bookseller. Why did you open a bookstore? 

My magazine, it’s called The State vs. Us Magazine, it taps into the streets and prison and highlights high-profile cases. It talks about the corruption that goes on in the prison, police, and government. It highlights wrongful convictions and success stories of the formerly incarcerated, such as myself. So, I rolled it up in a dope situation, and it’s in the prisons; it’s the number-one source from prisons to the streets, and there’s no other magazine like it. I wanted a store presence. I went to Downtown Locker Room (DTLR), which is an apparel sneaker store where a lot of the gangsters go. I went to these locations with no success. So, I said, “Fuck it. Ya’ll want me in the game? I’m in the game.” But I wasn’t looking at the game as being a bookstore owner: I was just wanting to get in the game [to distribute the magazine]. Right? And it just turns into something different. I’m providing literacy to people who are in prison. When I started the magazine, I wanted the bookstore to put my magazine on the shelf and prison authors on the shelf. So, that’s what I’m doing. In 2019, I had the bookstore. 

What was your path to becoming so passionate about literature and about literacy?

Well, I was nothing but a drug dealer and gangbanger who ended up in the streets, but I was also a smart hustler. I had education. My mother was highly educated. My mother’s never been in trouble, never been in jail. She was educated and didn’t educate. So, I went out to the streets to see if I could get it. I went [to prison] for nine months. It will be 18 years in 2024 since I’ve been home, but in the meantime, I had cousins and family members and homeboys going back and forth to prison. I was able to see the disconnect. I was the one bringing drugs in the system for them to do what they got to do to sell. And I saw all of that disconnect and hunger from these different people. And I always knew something was crazy and wrong. But I couldn’t put my finger on it. 

With your focus on formerly incarcerated people or incarcerated people, and the culture around book bans, how does that influence the way that you select what books go in your store, or which authors have events at your bookstore, and how you advocate for your community?  

Well, the slogan for my store is “The Hub for the Black Author.” My store carries nothing but Black authors, and if it’s a white author in there, then we need to read that. And that’s how I pinpoint who I need in my store. This is for us. This is my love language to Black people. We got to understand that we must read. If we are able to get [kids] to read at a young age, they’re less likely to be in prison. So, it’s important that I instill this literacy. I even do book donations. At book signings, every book that people buy, they can buy one to donate back to the prison. 

That’s how I met author Shanita Hubbard, because I did that at her book signing, and she loved it. And that’s how we got to the Ride Beyond Program [helping incarcerated Black women].

I love it! If Urban Reads is your love letter to Black people, how has the community responded to that love letter? 

Oh, they love it. They love it. I get a lot of people that support me, though white and Black. 

And what challenges have you faced?

It just taints it sometimes, when I’m standing firm in what I believe in: Everything Black with me. And you’re not about to get me to do nothing different. Sometimes that intimidates certain people. And that’s fine. I’m not here to assimilate. I’m here to educate. So if that education intimidates you, you got more learning to do, you got more conversations that need to be had. So, my space is a safe space for those conversations, for those group conversations that we can have, putting that uncomfortable truth on the frontline. I’m okay with that because I’m prepared for the conversation. It’s just that my white counterparts, some of them aren’t. And some of them are mad at me. Some of them do put negative comments out about me.

Have you found a supportive community from other Black booksellers or from booksellers of color, whether they’re in Baltimore or just the broader community, across the country? 

I got this Black wall in my store with pictures of our ancestors and famous quotes on the wall. People have come from as far as the West Coast (California), the South (Alabama), East Coast, (Boston), to see this wall, and to be on this wall, and to get their famous picture. Because what I do with my customers, I take pictures [of them and] their purchases. I put them on the wall. And I started that craze going on. So, everybody says, “Yo, I want a picture!” 

What I also do is, I take that picture and I put it on Instagram, and I tag those authors. It could be Nikole Hannah-Jones, it could be Michelle Obama, it could be Jada Pinkett-Smith, Tabitha Brown. All of these people have reposted my pictures, have posted me on their page, have done all of this stuff. When I went on Michelle Obama’s page, I said, “Girl, it only took you three years, but I’ll take it!” Those are the things that I do for my customers to show them 1) They are appreciated, and 2) To show these authors where their support is coming from.

Is there a book that lives in your head rent-free? Is there something you commonly recommend for people to start with?

It depends on their reading level. I’m going back and forth with these racists on TikTok right now. I’m like, “There’s a history book with your name on it. Send me your address. I’ll send you a book.” We got Assata Shakur. We got the 1619 Project. Bet on Black by Ebony Williams. We got Angela Davis’s biography. Walter Mosley is good. My magazine, The State vs. Us. There’s a lot of history in my magazine. And when you read it, you’re going to be learning a lot. People think they can’t learn from felons. The smartest person and the hardest-working person you’re going to find comes from prison. People need to give us a chance. 

What are you looking forward to with Urban Reads?

More locations. More locations to put out this literature and this word. I want prison illiteracy, that rate, to go down, due to me helping that number go down. I have two locations: My main location, which has My Mama’s Vegan Cafe—that I’m a co-owner of—inside. And my other location is in Lexington market, downtown Baltimore. And everywhere my location goes, My Mama’s Vegan Cafe is going to go with us. 


Black and Brown bookstores owners do the important work of curating, amplifying, and preserving the rich throughline of stories that feed us. They are vital members of our local and global communities. Where there is a movement, there are books. But who captures the stories of the booksellers themselves? In this column, SHOP TALK, profiling booksellers, Dara Mathis turns the lens onto Black and Brown bookstores around the world, honoring the journeys that bring them to our neighborhoods.

Sydney Valerio | Mama’s Writing

Mama’s Writing is Raising Mothers’ monthly interview series, curated by Starr Davis.


What recent writing accomplishment(s) are you most proud of? Was this accomplishment shared and supported by your children?

There are several key writing accomplishments I secured [last] year for which I am very grateful. First one: I became a writer for Race The Bronx which is a running company that creates races in Bronx parks. I wrote articles and interviews I conducted with runners in our community. Second one: I studied with Mitchell Jackson at the Kenyon Review Workshop in Ohio [last] summer. I engaged with new writers–BOOM, BOOM, BAPS–and returned to my writing practice after a bit of a hiatus. Third one: I launched a Substack account in November after running my second marathon of the season. All of these accomplishments were supported by my college-aged daughters. Whenever I shared the updates they simply replied: Mom, this is so you!

Tell about a time mom-guilt emerged (or emerges) in the midst of your writing process.

Mom guilt emerged when I was in my early years of motherhood. I was establishing a career as a high school English teacher, attempting to make time to write, and balancing being fully present for my two daughters. Sitting still to write for a moment felt like I wasn’t fulfilling my motherly duties. My writing voice was overtaken by academic writing or writing curriculum.

If you could go back and give yourself advice before becoming a mom, what would it be?

Sydney, you got this! Fill those journal pages. Carry those small notebooks. See the world in order to realize that you are ultimately your home.

What topics, artistic channels, or forms have become present that were not there before in your writing since becoming a parent?

There is an urgency now to write about my health journey which wasn’t present before becoming a parent. Running as a person who has chronic anemia or who is navigating a cancer scare has surfaced in my writing since becoming a parent. I didn’t find a writing community until more than a decade of being a mother. The local NYC writing community certainly provided artistic channels I have leaned on and helped build in recent years.

Do you ever find yourself dealing with censorship as a mom-writer? 

I haven’t had to censor myself as a mom-writer. I take risks in my writing and show up as my authentic self. I am a creative non-fiction writer. As such, I center on emotional truths and perspective. My daughters have attended my readings. I know that how they perceive my writing at this stage in life will shift as they mature. The more acquainted they become with my work the more they will understand the socio-cultural history of our backgrounds.

How has parenting bolstered or inhibited your creativity?

Parenting is a motivating force to write but it also prohibits me from having the time to do it. I am a single parent and am the first generation. I work several jobs to afford to live in The Bronx and to support my daughters. The role of mother keeps me busy even while I have bursts of empty nest mode when they are away at college. Parenting means I maintain two lives other than my own. It keeps me busy with survival mode tasks. All the while writing beckons me to make it one of those top tasks. I have found ways to have doses of writing make their way onto the page or a screen. The reality is though that parenting comes first until my daughters are set and out of college.

Was there a noticeable shift in your writing before and after parenthood? If yes, how so? 

Parenthood provided me with the urgency to write poetry and stories. I became a mother at 19. I have always written since I remember learning how to read and write. However, motherhood compelled me to turn to blank pages from the moment I learned I was pregnant.

How has the internet influenced you as both a writer and parent?

The internet provides access to resources and community. It also is a distraction and presents nudges now and then of how I should do more because I am capable of doing more writing. As a parent, the internet doesn’t play a huge role. I entered motherhood before social media existed on the scale that it does today. As a parent, I chose to shield my daughters from it for the most part. We are very media conscious and may send each other funny videos now and then but at the end of the day we steer away from the internet when it comes to our relationships.

How have other mother figures you have encountered in your community influenced your parenting? Your writing?

I always lean on the women in my community for assurance and support. I have a pair of friends whose children are of similar age to my own. We are all first generation and lean on each other to support the ways we continue traditions, change cycles, and hold each other accountable. My writing hasn’t been influenced by other mother figures in direct ways but when I think of it, the writers in my local community who are also mothers do inspire one another and share resources with one another. There is an unspoken understanding that we all need a nudge from time to time to take the time to write.

How do you balance motherhood/parenting and finding the space to write?

I balance motherhood/parenting and finding space to write with a mindset that heavily leans on having grace for myself in the times I do and don’t write. I understand there are times of the year that become more busy than others. I also create visual timelines and vision boards for where I am and want to be as a writer. It’s all about patience and trusting the timing of life.

Who are your writer-mama heroes?

My writer-mama heroes are all mothers who write. The ones whose names and work I know and those who I don’t know, yet. It is heroic for each of us to create the time and space for our voices. Thank you for doing so for mine.


Sydney Valerio is a creative non-fiction mixed-genre writer, performer, and marathoner. She daylights as an educator & moonlights as a creative. In 2016 she wrote and performed “Matters” a one-woman show at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Her poetry is in several anthologies including the BreakBeat Poets Vol. 4: Latinext. She is a 2020 Volcanista and a 2023 Kenyon Review Alumna. A 2019 BRIO Award-winning poet and a NYSEC 2022 Educator of Excellence, Sydney is a graduate of the MFA in Creative Writing program at CCNY. She is the project manager for the CCNY MFA Archives as Muse: a Harlem Storytelling project and the creator of the creative digital archive project: Perspective Matters-NYC Kid Who’s Now a NYC Adult.


Raising Mothers Member Drive

Dear Readers,

In 2012, when I was pregnant with my first child, I knew I wanted to create a space where we centered the narratives of parents. Not in the ways we were used to seeing online. I wasn’t interested in the daily documentation of life, of sharing the stories of children without their consent, of selling “stuff” to fill—the parts of you you felt you lost, the parts of you you think you should be, the parts of you left in utter confusion.

I didn’t want to take advantage, which unfortunately is central to so much of new parenthood. You have to buy this and this and this and that otherwise you’re not, something. No. Having children actually deepened my curiosity of what makes us, us. Something I’d been drawn to from a young age, listening to the stories my grandmother shared. Listening to the spaces between those stories. Wishing I had more time with her, with a more mature mind to ask her about those spaces.

I wanted to make a room for those stories from all of us. Parenting can feel like writing a lot of the time. It can be isolating. Only you know what’s happening inside your body, inside your mind. There’s a lot to process in a short amount of time, while each day stands as its own eternity. Then we come from under the fog. We reach for our neighbor, our friend. We remember that we belong to a community. We don’t have to be alone. Some of us are more fortunate than others in that regard. Some of us find our people in this revelatory phase of life online. We meet our people.

As Raising Mothers grew, I became more confident in allowing other parts of myself to come forward. Everything I do centers Blackness, as that is my lived experience. In that, I take the responsibility to center the silenced. Raising Mothers will always be for everyone, but we are speaking to the Global Majority. We are sharing our narratives, divorced from the white gaze, divorced from the centering of patriarchy. We’re more expansive than when we began.

As Raising Mothers moves into its ninth year of existence, we want to encourage everyone to support our work by becoming a member. Share this drive with your friends and family. Raising Mothers is a small outfit of volunteer staff and has been since the start. A lot of work goes into building this indie magazine and cultivating this community.

Our goal this year is to be able to pay all contributors honoraria. We do not receive grant funding or have a private investor. We’re 100% reader-funded. In the future, that may change, but we never want to rely on ads to generate revenue.

Membership funds allow us to:

Pay all of our writers and eventually pay them more.

Partner with organizations who align with our values

Keep our archives alive and un-paywalled

Keep submissions free.

Most importantly, to remain independent!

Membership is a sliding scale from $5-$50 per month, and if you sign up for annual membership, you save 8%.

Our goal for the next 5 months is to increase our membership by AT LEAST 100 MEMBERS each month. That can be as simple as our first 100 people convincing 5 friends to become members.

Sincerely, Sherisa de Groot
Founder, Raising Mothers