When I launched Dark Matter, it was born out of both passion and necessity – a marketing agency rooted in community, culture and a deep understanding of Black audiences in the UK.

We exist to connect publishers with the readers they’re often trying, but struggling to reach. Despite our expertise, experience and results, we still encounter a persistent reluctance from parts of the industry to fully value what we do.

This isn’t a grumble, and it’s not intended as an industry takedown. It’s a call to reflect, learn and evolve. One moment that has stayed with me happened during a campaign for an author in 2023. It was an exciting, large-scale project that had the potential to drive meaningful change in how their particular genre is received by Black readers. As I was collaborating with the publisher’s team, a senior executive at one of the Big Five said to me, “We don’t need Dark Matter to throw us a party”.

It stopped me in my tracks.

The comment – perhaps meant casually, reduced the months of strategic planning, community engagement and culturally nuanced marketing to something that sounded like decoration. It completely missed the point.

What we do is about creating safe, joyful and resonant spaces where Black readers can see themselves reflected — not just in the books, but in the campaigns too. And yes, the campaign did culminate in a party – one that was smart, celebratory and packed with energy. It was a moment people are still talking about. But that event was the visible tip of an iceberg of careful, considered and community-driven work – not a tote bag, balloon or cupcake in sight.

Another incident involved a campaign where the publisher came to us to deliver a partnership campaign because they knew they couldn’t authentically reach the audience themselves. We were happy to help. We tapped into our network and brought together an incredible list of Black-led grassroots organisations – deeply trusted within their communities and genuinely excited to support the book. These were not flashy names with six-figure followings. But together, they had a reach of over 10,000 engaged people and, more importantly, real influence. They talk to their communities on WhatsApp, via newsletters and at in-person meetups. These are the kinds of platforms where word-of-mouth grows exponentially resulting in sales and recommendations. The publisher’s response? “These look good but they’re rather small.”

Too often, Black professionals, and particularly Black women are asked to lend our expertise, but are not given the room to lead

I was disappointed, although not surprised. That comment underscored a wider issue: a lack of understanding about how systemic inequality has shaped the digital and economic landscape for Black-led platforms. Many of these organisations operate with limited funding, often alongside full-time work. Their scale is not a reflection of their value, but of the uphill climb they face in a system that hasn’t made space for them to thrive.

And yet, they remain powerful, authentic and deeply connected to their followers. They are exactly who you want on your side when trying to speak to real people in real communities.

In the end, we pivoted to larger partners, as requested, but the emotional depth and grassroots excitement just wasn’t the same. The campaign did well, but I’m left wondering what it could have been had we trusted the original vision.

This isn’t about ego, or being ungrateful for the work. I love what I do. And I love seeing our stories told, shared and celebrated. But there’s a crucial conversation we need to keep having about race, trust and power in this industry. Too often, Black professionals, and particularly Black women are asked to lend our expertise, but are not given the room to lead. It can feel like surface-level inclusion without real influence.

The publishing industry continues to say it wants to reach more diverse readers. But as long as the teams tasked with doing that don’t reflect the audiences they’re targeting, especially at senior levels, then agencies like Dark Matter are not just helpful, we’re essential. And we need the freedom to do the work our way.

That means respecting our methods, even when they don’t look like the traditional marketing playbook. It means seeing value in small platforms and understanding that influence isn’t always visible on a spreadsheet. It means recognising that when we advocate for partners or strategies, we’re doing so from a place of lived experience, cultural fluency and professional excellence.

The work we do is about connection. And connection isn’t just a numbers game – it’s about trust. If the publishing industry wants to build meaningful relationships with Black readers, it must start by building meaningful relationships with the Black professionals who are already doing that work.