By now, you’ve likely seen the headlines: President Trump, emboldened by his re-election, has wasted no time in banning Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) Programmes with a sweeping executive order. The think pieces and social media debates show that this news has struck a nerve but let’s call this what it is—a cynical rollback, a deliberate attempt to erase, silence, and render invisible those of us who refuse to be marginal. This is not just a policy change; it is a declaration that our stories, our bodies, our experiences are expendable. We have seen this before. And we refuse to go back.

At Cassava Republic Press, we have always known that representation is not a luxury. It is not a corporate buzzword to be discarded when the political winds shift as we are seeing even from more liberal organisations. It is the foundation of self-knowledge, the very stuff of which our human dignity is made. To write ourselves into existence is to claim a space in history, to push back against the forces that would relegate us to the footnotes. When a Black child picks up a book and sees themselves reflected in its pages, it is an act of resistance, a refusal to accept erasure. This is why we do what we do. And we’ll continue to do so, undeterred through the authors we publish and books we curate from the global Black world.

Take, for example, A Pair of Wings by Carole Hopson, our latest acquisition — a powerful tale inspired by the life of Bessie Coleman, the first African American woman to earn an international pilot’s license. Bessie’s story is one of soaring above limitations imposed on Black women and claiming a space in a world never intended for her. But history and historians choose what they want to remember, unless we, the custodians of memory insist on their survival. And we do! This is why this book is crossing the Atlantic and finding a home with us—because representation is global, and our histories are not bounded to nation-states.

Our catalogue is built on this ethos, creating space for the stories of our people wherever they are. Olumide Popoola’s When We Speak of Nothing and Like Water Like Sea explore the intricacies of identity, mental health, and belonging through a queer lens. And Then He Sang a Lullaby by Ani Kayode Somtochukwu is a love story caught in the crosshairs of familial expectations, religious dogma and legislative oppression. She Called Me Woman and Love Offers No Safety present first-hand narratives of queer Nigerians speaking their truths. And on children’s bookshelves, Obioma Plays Football challenges the narrow definitions of ability and champions the simple, radical joy of inclusion and empathy.

So let them write their executive orders. Let them attempt to snuff out the power of representation. We will continue to publish, to disrupt, to remind the world storytelling is about the unshakable truth of our existence. We are here. We have always been here. And no act of political vandalism will change that.