I recently came across a blog called
run by writer and mutual aid advocate, Robin Divine. Not only did I relate to her realness, but she also got me thinking about what it can look like for me to have a readership that truly values me as an Artist and whole human being.One of the first things I noticed about her blog was that she has a little over 700 overall subscribers, yet she has a bestselling Substack, with 100+ paid subscribers. All of her content is free.
I immediately thought to myself, “Wow, her audience must really value her!”
Then, I thought of my Substack, which also has 700 subscribers.
I currently have 46 paid subscribers, despite having consistently published several high-quality free articles, and lots of paid ones too.
And not that this is at all necessary to get paid for my work, but I have also opened up about my present experience with domestic violence and poverty on this blog and on social media, countless times.
So this led me to ask:
Does my audience value me?
Within my first several months on Substack, my audience was small. It was a super slow climb to get my first 100 subscribers. I had no idea how I would possibly reach a wider audience in order to grow, but after 9 months, I was proud of how far I’d come.
Like Robin, I had about 15% of subscribers supporting me through paid subscriptions, which is way higher than the industry average, and pretty fucking amazing.
Although my audience was way smaller than it is now, and I was making less money, I felt like I had an equitable exchange with my audience. People were eager to support me where they could, and I felt like my work was highly valued and strongly resonant with my readers.
Many of the women who supported me in my early days are still here to this day, and several new subscribers have hopped onboard to support me, too.
However, with all the exponential growth my blog has received, my number of paid subscribers has dropped from 15% to 6.5%.
The math ain’t mathin’.
After seeing Robin’s Substack, and with some of the recent backlash I’ve received, I can’t help but think that this discrepancy has something to do with how a significant portion of my audience is relating to me, on a deeper level.
When I published my essay on Pauli Murray, I intentionally reached out to various gender-critical platforms in an effort to share it as widely as possible. In doing so, I attracted hundreds of new subscribers.
But despite all the fanfare over some of my writings, I could intuitively sense a disconnect.
A lot of people only appreciate my work defending Pauli Murray and the lives of other black lesbians because it could be used to as a tool to prove a point for their own agenda.
I could tell that many people who had newly discovered my work had no connection or investment in caring for those in my community, other than cherry-picking the fruits of my labor that could serve their intellectual or political interests, even if those interests don’t serve us.
They didn’t care about the personal connections I felt to these women that led me to create my work, nor did they care about my journey, the conditions or circumstance I have had to live under to produce my work.
So naturally, these people were not equipped to care about me, or see to it that I’m properly supported and sustained in the work that I do.
I’m not saying that money is the golden ticket to showing that you care. A couple of subscribers seemed to be under the impression that paying me earns them the right to openly disrespect me, and they were wrong.
However, money is important and necessary. It’s an integral way to exchange value for value, even if it’s not the only way.
There is something to be said about a culture that underpays and devalues black women’s labor, while superficially celebrating the fruits of it.
I think that’s the reason why I have also encountered so much backlash for expressing my humanity over the same themes (i.e. racism) that I discuss in my more popular scholarly essays.
When it concerns a woman like me who is still alive and in need of support, it hits too close to home. It’s too confronting, and too much of an inconvenience.
So I have reached a place where I’m increasingly mindful about who I collaborate with, and what audiences I draw in. Because, it’s so much more important for me to feel seen and valued on my own platform, than it is to gain empty popularity.
I trust that my continued authenticity will help those who don’t need to be here, to find their way out the door—and that those who do value me will discover, benefit from my work, and support me on a more holistic level.
My hope is that everything will balance out over time.
I know my work is extremely valuable, and I deserve to be fully supported and sustained by it.
When I die, my collection of work will be placed in a museum, archive, or institution, repurposed for the culture so that my legacy can serve generations beyond me.
But I’m not interested in receiving my flowers and fame after I succumb and die from poverty.
I want to deserve my flowers today, from the people who have the privilege of bearing witness to my journey while I am alive.
I have devoted my life to honing and preserving my creative voice. I want my gifts to lead me to a life of healing and abundance. And, I want this platform to be one of those vehicles.
If you are one of those people who has been touched by my gifts, who values me as a woman and artist— I kindly ask you to support me in the way you are able.
If you can pay for a monthly or annual subscription, then please do so. If you can afford to pay any more than $80/year for a subscription, you’re welcome to do so as a Founding member.
For those who can’t afford to pay for a subscription but who regularly share my work and offer me moral support through your words of encouragement, I see you!
I already have a referral program where people can earn points towards a paid subscription when they share my work…
However, if you’re a paid subscriber and you’d like to offer a gift subscription to a dedicated reader who may not be able to afford it on her own, please send me a message.
Some of my most cherished readers have been too financially challenged to continue (or start) subscribing to me, and I would love to offer more of these women full access to my work.
The best way to do that is through mutual aid.
As always, I am grateful to those of who who truly see and support me, and who have chosen to come along with me for the journey.
Thank you for being here. 🌺
Beautiful! In early 2021 I did a workshop facilitated by a woman named Monica Cadena. It was called “grow your community not your audience.” The workshop was about truly amplifying the authentic you and having an actual connection to those who engage with your energy on these platforms. I see life refining you and I see you aligning yourself with that refinement. Your community is out here! We see you, value you, and are holding the vision of you thriving. 🌷🌺💐🪷🌻🌼🌸🪻🌹
I’m a new subscriber…hi! I am really enjoying your content so far and as soon as finances allow, will happily become a paid subscriber.
This essay was so relatable and hit me hard. I’m an artist and writer as well and have never felt valued for my work. I often feel like I’m just sharing into the abyss. I’m about to launch my own substack and am trying to be positive and optimistic about where it will lead.
Looking forward to reading and engaging with your future work!