The History of Diversity in UK Publishing: Where We Started
Let’s be honest—UK publishing has not always been the most inclusive space. In fact, for decades, it’s been about as welcoming to diverse voices as a members-only club with a “No Entry” sign slapped on the door. But don’t worry—this isn’t going to be a dull history lesson. This is the real, unfiltered story of how we got here, told with a bit of flair, because why not make the truth fun and fiery?
Once Upon a (Not So) Diverse Time
Picture this: It’s the mid-20th century. The UK publishing world is run by a tight-knit group of people who all look like they’ve just stepped out of a scene from Downton Abbey. White, posh, and utterly convinced that the only stories worth printing were ones that reflected their lives. If you didn’t fit into their narrow worldview? Tough luck. Your story wasn’t getting told.
Authors of colour? Forget it. They were told their stories were “too niche”, “too political”, or “too different”. And if you did manage to squeeze through the cracks, chances were you’d be pigeonholed into writing about the “struggles of being Black” or the “challenges of immigration”. Because God forbid you write about joy, love, or, I don’t know, wizards.
The Commonwealth Conundrum
Now, here’s the kicker. Post-Windrush, Britain welcomed waves of migrants from across the Commonwealth to rebuild the country after World War II. But while they were happy to take their labour, they weren’t interested in their stories. These were people with rich cultures, vibrant histories, and voices waiting to be heard—but the publishing industry? Silent.
Instead, white authors wrote about these communities, often through a colonial lens. Meanwhile, actual writers from these communities were ignored. Talk about rewriting history while the people who lived it were standing right there.
Enter the Rebels
Here’s where things get spicy. While mainstream publishers were busy gatekeeping, independent Black publishers were kicking down doors and getting the work done. Shoutout to pioneers like New Beacon Books and Bogle-L’Ouverture Publications, who said, “If you won’t publish us, we’ll publish ourselves!”
These indie publishers gave us groundbreaking voices like Buchi Emecheta, whose books are iconic, and Linton Kwesi Johnson, who made poetry cool. They created space for stories that deserved to be told. Honestly, they carried UK publishing on their backs—and didn’t get nearly enough credit for it.
The Era of Lip Service
Fast forward to the 2000s, and suddenly the industry started talking about “diversity”. But let’s not get too excited—it was mostly just talk. Publishers launched glossy diversity schemes, hired a couple of interns from underrepresented backgrounds, and called it a day.
Behind the scenes, the numbers told a different story. Black and Brown authors were still being rejected at higher rates, receiving smaller advances, and getting minimal marketing. Oh, and if you didn’t hit bestseller status within weeks of your book launch? You were dropped faster than a hot potato.
The 2020 Shake-Up
Then came 2020. The Black Lives Matter protests went global, and suddenly everyone was paying attention. UK publishers rushed to sign Black authors, post solidarity statements, and slap the word “diverse” on everything. But let’s not kid ourselves—most of this was performative. A lot of it felt like publishers were saying, “Look! We care now!” without actually addressing the deeper systemic issues.
Real talk: Diversity isn’t about jumping on a trend or ticking a box. It’s about making real changes—long-term, uncomfortable changes. It’s about power. Who’s making the decisions? Who’s greenlighting the stories? Who’s sitting at the table when it really matters?
What’s Next?
So, where do we go from here? Progress has been made, yes—but there’s still a long way to go. Diversity in UK publishing shouldn’t be a side project; it should be the foundation. We need more authors of colour, more editors of colour, and more execs of colour calling the shots.
And while we’re at it, let’s throw out the idea that diverse books only sell to diverse audiences. Everyone can—and should—read these stories. They’re for all of us.
Final Word
Here’s the truth: We’ve always been here. Our stories have always been worth telling. The question is whether UK publishing will finally step up or whether we’ll have to keep doing it ourselves. Spoiler alert: We’re not waiting for permission.
To the next generation of storytellers, editors, and publishers: the door is cracked open. Let’s kick it wide open and make sure it never closes again.
And to the industry? The clock is ticking. Either adapt, or watch as we build something better.
Game on.
