The most recommended books about Black women

A fascinating exploration into the lives of three women ignored by history, the mothers of Martin Luther King Jr, James Baldwin, and Malcolm X. By tracing the intellectual, political, and emotional strands of each woman’s life, Anna Malaika Tubbs uncovers hidden complexities within black motherhood that illuminate our understanding of the past while also shedding light on the overlooked contributions of black women today.

The first autobiography published by an Afro-Caribbean (“Creole”) woman, this “adventure story” chronicles the life of Jamaican icon and national heroine, Mary Seacole who, in her own time, rivaled Florence Nightingale as a founder of modern nursing. The “yaller doctress” became known for her devising of successful treatments for cholera, yellow fever, and malaria in Jamaica and, later, Panama, and became internationally renowned after founding her own hospital-hotel at the frontlines of the Crimean War (1853-1856) where she nursed members of the British military. Upon publication, Seacole’s best-selling life-story gained her awards, acclaim, and the respect of the British nation (denied her by Florence Nightingale, by the way). Seacole’s effervescent writing bubbles over with optimism and can-do spirit.

C.M. Lockhart did an incredible job with We Are the Origin. With this book, we get to navigate a world full of gods, vessels, assassins—there are several moments where I would forget the time while I read this novel, because the world building and character arcs are just that interwoven and well executed. In terms of diversity, it’s refreshing for our main character, Brandi, to be around people that look like her while also being unapologetically herself. This story is original, the characters are well-fleshed out, and I am patiently awaiting the sequel. 

This book powerfully expands our definition of mothers and the role of mothering and presents it as a path to transformation. You will leave this book with a radical new perspective of what mothering does for everyone in our society. It is anti-imperialist, inclusive, and as the title suggests - revolutionary. If everyone read this, we would all live in a better world!

Book of the Little Axe follows one woman at two ends of her life, spanning from the late 1700s to the early 1800s.

One thread follows who she will become—“Ma,” wife to an Apsáalooke man and mother to three children—and the woman she was before, “Rosa,” a daughter and sister in Trinidad. A third thread follows a man named Creadon’s diary.

This book explores so many important and complex topics like what it means to be family, what it means to belong, and what it means to accept yourself. I loved how deep Francis-Sharma dives into the feelings of shame and pride and fear that the characters feel.

I felt those same things and it made me physically ache for them.

Girl, Woman, Other was the book I recommended to all my friends and family this year in our Christmas newsletter (yes, we are one of those families).

It follows twelve characters across two generations in the United Kingdom. Massive cultural shifts occur, socio-economic status changes, and children grow up.

At first glance, this might not appear to be a book about cross-cultural interactions but the relationship between the mother and daughter at the centre of the story highlight the monumental shifts that can occur in a lifetime.

This travelogue is so exquisitely written it is possible to admire it simply for its lyricism. But it’s much more than a travelogue. Embedded in the book are familial narratives, personal accounts, musings about other writers – Coetzee, Naipaul, Walcott, Galeano, for instance – all with the intent to chart the black diasporic experience. It’s a deeply personal book, yet studded with brilliant observations on belonging. “Black experience in any modern city or town in the Americas is a haunting. One enters a room and history follows; one enters a room and history precedes. History is already seated in the chair in the empty room when one arrives.” This book is best read slowly, savouring its insight. 

I love linked stories. Three black women, a successful executive, a flight attendant, and, a refugee, are linked to the CEO of Sweden's largest marketing firm.

At the time I read this book, my husband was the only Black executive at a Swedish company and it was extremely helpful in understanding the work culture of his company. I also connected with each of the women as they faced the harsh realities of what it means to be a Black woman in a White dominated society.

There was a resilience that persisted in each of them despite instances of racism, classism, tokenism, fetishization, and suicide. Though I found the story disturbing and sad at times, I was also encouraged by the strength these women exhibited in striving to value themselves. 

Millicent Johnson (Peaches) has a whimsical imagination and dreams of becoming an artist.

Being raised by her grandmother along with her cousins in 1970s Harlem, their summers are filled with the freedom to wander the neighborhood and get into all sorts of trouble.

Yes, it’s a middle-grade book. I first read this book in seventh grade. I’ve no idea how many books I’d read up until that point but it was literally in the hundreds. This was the first book I’d read that I didn’t have to fully engage my whole imagination.

It realistically reflected my actual life… from the corner store to playing the numbers to even the boys she liked. I loved Peaches’ life. She was me. This is the book that began my writing life…for real.

For years, I read memoirs by single women in search of people who would joyfully and unapologetically own their single lives. I found several who were insightful and engaging but ultimately disappointing. Typically, they hedged–sure, they would say, they were fine with being single, but they were not about to commit to staying single. Some were gobsmacked to discover that single life could be fulfilling as if that were the most amazing thing imaginable.

Then, Keturah Kendrick published this book. Kendrick knew who she was from an early age. She owns her singlehood and all her other choices about how to live her life, such as not having children. She brilliantly shatters stereotypes about single people, and her critiques of popular culture are skillful and searing.