In 1964, ten years after Brown v. Board of Education, the fight for desegregation and educational equality was far from over. As the civil rights movement gained momentum, Black freedom fighters worked to leverage every part of their community in service of their struggle. For instance, “Freedom Schools” were established in community spaces — including beauty salons and barber shops — with dual goals of pushing for voter registration and providing a quality, culturally relevant education.
Half a century later, de facto segregation has replaced its older legal variant. In 2011, according to a UCLA report, only 23% of black students nationwide attended a school with majority white students — the same percentage as in 1968. Educational outcomes for Black and Latino students, while improving by some measures, persistently lag behind those of White students.
It seems fitting then that Alvin Irby, founder of Barbershop Books, would look once again to leverage the power of the Black-owned barbershop to make a difference.
The organization works in New York City, home to the most segregated schools in the country. Barbershop Books uses a simple concept to address a stubborn problem: the low literacy and graduation rates of young Black males.
AAlvin Irby grew up in Little Rock, Arkansas in the 1990s. Though his mother was a career-long teacher, Irby never saw himself as much of a reader. “I really saw reading as a chore,” Irby said. Looking back, he thinks fondly of his mom’s attempts to change that through extra work and projects — though he admits they only worsened his attitude towards reading in the short term.
That started to change in high school. He looked around his 10th grade English class and noticed unchallenging work and disengaged students. “We were reading short stories and doing spelling lists,” he recalled. “I remember thinking to myself, ‘I feel like something is wrong here.’” Frustrated, Irby asked his counselor to transfer him to a more demanding course.
When he walked into his new, pre-AP English classroom he was shocked by what he saw: White people. “Our school was almost all Black and Latino, but then all of a sudden you get into these advanced classes and they’re so diverse.”
The experience not only pushed Irby to reimagine his capacity as a student and reader, but opened his eyes to the inequity right in his own school. After surveying the reading habits of a hundred classmates, he became determined to change his school’s reading culture. Irby ran for student council on a platform of creating a reading incentive program at his high school. Little did he know that the work he began as a high school junior — writing grants, meeting with community leaders — would become a valuable template years later.
TThe story of Barbershop Books in many ways follows the story of its founder. Irby studied sociology and economics as an undergrad at a small liberal arts college, and after a stint teaching in the South Bronx, went to graduate school for public service. Irby’s organization’s model draws from his memories as a reluctant reader, his time teaching reluctant first-grade readers, and his academic studies about the power of communities to make a change. If reading is associated with Black, male spaces like barbershops, he believes, Black boys will begin to associate themselves with reading.
Undergirding Irby’s theory is research about the power of just a few positive reading experiences a month. According to the National Educational Association, students who read for fun have consistently higher reading and math scores.
Unfortunately, said Irby, Black boys receive a litany of messages that reading is not for them — making it less likely that they will read for fun, or enjoy its associated benefits. For starters, they are most likely taught not by black men but by white women (over 80 percent of teachers in the US are white, and a similar percentage are female). This disconnect between black masculinity and literacy continues when they get home, where they’re more likely than children of other backgrounds to be raised by a single mom.
Add to this the children’s books available today. For the past 21 years, according to Lee & Low Books, only ten percent of children’s books contained “multicultural content.” Children of color rarely see themselves represented in the stories they read — making some less inclined to pick up books.
“When you put these messages together, why should Black boys read?” Irby asked, with open frustration.
Barbershop Books is partnering with shops in Harlem and Brooklyn to answer that question. Irby describes barbershops as distinctly male-centered spaces with a strong sense of belonging, uniquely equipped to reverse the subliminal messaging Black boys may otherwise receive about reading.
Irby selects books with a young Black male audience in mind. It’s not necessarily a scientific process, but one based on word-of-mouth recommendations and Irby’s own instincts. For example, the picture book Those Shoes follows a boy named Jeremy who desperately wants the latest pair of high-price kicks, which his grandmother says they cannot afford. “Jeremy soon sees that the things he has — warm boots, a loving grandma, and the chance to help a friend — are worth more than the things he wants,” wrote the publisher.
According to Harlem barbershop owner Denny Moe, Sr., Irby’s choices have paid off. “I just took a picture the other day of a kid who picked a book up and didn’t want to let it go,” he recalled.
A block away at Fig’s Barber Shop, owner Earl Figueroa described the books as having a calming presence on kids (and their parents). He described parents reading to their kids, and even some adults picking up books to read themselves.
Storeowners like Moe seem deeply invested in Barbershop Books’ model. “I think having the books in here is amazing,” he said. “When Alvin came in with the books it was a no-brainer for me. I took the video games out and put the books in.”
But as Barbershop Books expands, it may be difficult to find suitable “hosts” for the books. All barbershop owners may not be as dedicated as Moe. In one barbershop I visited, the books were hidden by cleaning supplies.
In another, every young person was staring into a smartphone screen — a reminder that in 2015, book culture is on the decline in every demographic. I wondered if the presence of the books alone was enough to fulfill Barbershop Books’ mission, or if they needed something more.
This question is important, because funding will depend on evidence. Irby admits that data collection and program evaluation are a challenge — and perhaps not even a priority for him at this time. For now, he’s garnered some early attention and enthusiasm, which is allowing him to grow the idea to more spaces and, he hopes, more cities.
Some might also question Irby’s gender-specific approach to changing educational outcomes — especially with efforts like #SayHerName to bring attention to the narratives of Black women and girls. Irby is unapologetic and steadfast in his response. “This is triage right now,” he said. “Black boys are bleeding out.”
EEfforts to transform educational outcomes for Black children are not new. But today, many of those efforts are led by policymakers and entrepreneurs who are often not from communities of color.
For instance, some creative librarians are now bringing reading materials to “book deserts” by bicycle. While well-intentioned, one could also argue that they perpetuate an outside-in approach to fighting educational inequity.
Black-owned barbershops have a long history as community spaces. Still, Barbershop Books saw them today as an untapped resource. Perhaps it’s precisely because of Irby’s personal history with them that allowed him to see these old spaces and give them a renewed purpose.
