How Noname's Book Club is Bridging the Black Diaspora

The Chicago rap sensation's political awakening began in 2019 during a climate when the U.S. was still rife with antiblackness and just before the tragic killing of George Floyd ignited the second Black Lives Matter movement. Like many Black Americans, she was frustrated by systemic injustice. She posted a series of tweets reflecting on capitalism, suggesting it could be a tool toward Black liberation rather than inherently evil. As a descendant of Black business owners (her mother owned a bookstore), she saw social mobility through entrepreneurship. But after Twitter users educated her on capitalism's ties to slavery and racial inequality, she took it as a sign to re-educate herself.

"I was like, 'Okay,' let me just shut up and do some reading. So I started the book club selfishly hoping to be in a community with people who can break some of it [politics] down for me", she tells OkayAfrica. Today, she runs Noname Book Club, a collective that connects Black readers with radical books by Black authors. Since April 2021, the club has expanded into prisons, sending books to 1,500 incarcerated members. From its roots in Los Angeles, the club now hosts over 20 chapters across the U.S., Europe, and Africa, branching out to Lagos, Accra, Nairobi, Kampala, and Dakar in what feels like a poetic homecoming.

"Well, I am kind of obsessed with Africa," she sincerely divulges, with a wide grin. "I just wanted the book club to exist in all the places Black people are. I also wanted a reason to travel and globalize my understanding of Blackness and the diaspora." Noname's recent travel to Nairobi proved to be a fruitful endeavor, exposing her to the work of Kenyan literary giant Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, best known for his rejection of English, writing in his indigenous language of Kikuyu.

"Admittedly, Black Americans have regressive ideas about Africa, as we haven't been taught or exposed to African cultures," she says. Noname had previously criticized Beyonce's film Black is King for its "African aesthetic draped in capitalism," echoing critiques from continental Africans who saw Black Panther and similar media as contributing to the "Wakandification" of Africa, a flattening of diverse African cultures into a monolithic fantasy. "That's why I want to remove some of the ignorance people have of different places in Africa through this book club," Noname says. "Like folks are just as politicized. They're just as fly as you."

While considering international expansion, things came together organically. She connected withNeema Githere Siphone, an acclaimed Kenyan artist and theorist, who would go on to facilitate the first Nairobi chapter. After years of living in the U.S. and feeling "in exile," Siphone returned to Nairobi just as the book club sought to expand. "I feel this Pan-African legacy reviving in Nairobi. It existed in decentralized ways, but now we have physical spaces, and those are still needed," Siphone tells OkayAfrica.

The plans soon came together: flights were booked, flyers were posted, and a WhatsApp group was created. Noname and Siphone arrived in Nairobi. They intentionally swapped traditional tourist spots like Nairobi's National Park for literary landmarks like the McMillan Memorial Library and Eastlands Library, which Siphone documented on social media. "Seeing how the book club fit into the broader constellation of Nairobi's literary scene, and how this was a product of so much collaboration, was surreal," Siphone says.

On the day of the Nairobi launch, OkayAfrica joined about 30 readers at Cheche Books, a treasured Pan-African bookstore tucked into Nairobi's leafy Lavington suburb. Despite the grey, drizzly weather, spirits were high. Participants gathered with copies of their books, buzzing with excitement. Noname blended in naturally and greeted attendees warmly, taking their portraits for the club's website.

The atmosphere was casual and communal. There was no elevated stage, no spotlight. Everyone sat in a circle. One reader later shared that their favorite part of the event was how the club didn't feel hierarchical despite Noname's celebrity. Ideas flowed freely, and the space encouraged openness. The discussion centered on this month's book selection, Chain Gang All Stars, a novel rooted in abolitionist politics and the U.S. prison industrial complex. The most emotional moment came when Noname asked if anyone had personal experiences with incarceration. Several readers shared complex stories about Kenya's prison system, including one who had to bring syringes to an incarcerated friend, explaining that inmates often have to share them due to a lack of supplies.

At the end of the meeting, Noname shared her impressions of the first event. "I'm so blessed with the turnout. I'm even more blessed that people were so kind." She was surprised to learn that many attendees were fans of her music and mentioned potentially performing in Nairobi in the future.

The rapper also shared plans to open a new prison chapter in Abuja, Nigeria, after gaining government approval. "I want to be like the radical McDonald's, where there's a little library located in every Black hood. That's my dream." The evening left participants with a sense of hope and a strong feeling of community.

Noname's grounded presence and seeming humility make her a rare figure who complicates the line between celebrity and relatability. This quality attracts readers and facilitators alike, like Siphone, who found sanctuary in the Radical Hood Library during a time of hardship. "I think that's what makes this model so powerful," Siphone said. "You can show people that it's okay to arrive not knowing everything."

Ultimately, this moment wasn't about Noname or her carefully deconstructed brand. It was about healing the deep wounds of disconnection across the diaspora through literature. It was about forging meaningful connections by acknowledging our shared yet unique struggles that emerged from slavery and colonialism. Noname may be one of the biggest names in hip-hop, but she continues to reject capitalist ideas, instead using her platform for transformative good. A blueprint, maybe, for how popular figures in the Black community can inspire less ego and self-promotion and genuine solidarity across the diaspora.