By Martha Boethel
Published in the Texas Journal of Ideas, History and Culture,
Spring/Summer 1990
[NOTE: Though this article was published 17 years ago, what it says about BookWoman's mission and place in the community remains true today. Some things have changed, notably: It's now the only women's bookstore in Texas; Susan Post is now the store's sole proprietor; the "catalog service " is now Web-based; and BookWoman is no longer on 6th Street. But now, as then, BookWoman is a vital part of Austin's progressive community — and volunteers remain vital to the bookstore's survival.]
The owners of BookWoman, the state's oldest and largest women's bookstore, are quick to point out the irony of their existence — a " specialty" bookstore aimed at half the population at large. "It's amazing," says co-owner Susan Post, "but a lot of people still have a problem associating women with books.
BookWoman's purpose is to make the connection between women and books explicit — "to bring books by, for and about women all under one roof," as Karen Umminger, the store's other partner, explains. " We're here so that women can realize that there are a lot more books out there for them and about them and written by them than they'd ever been told."
It's a purpose that, nearly two decades after the beginning of the twentieth-century Women's Movement, continues to fill a need. "Almost every day, " says Umminger, "a woman will come in for the first time, amazed at what we have, and spend an hour reading things she's always wanted to know."
Books to be found in the store range from feminist theory to poetry to how to manage your money and not to lose them all to poker. "We're better rounded than a lot of women's bookstores," says Post, "because of the diversity of the Austin community. We try to keep up with a range of categories," including literature, history, anthropology, health, spirituality, and a variety of topics from parenting to journal-keeping. BookWoman is an invaluable resource for the best and most recent work being done in the humanities on women's history and feminist criticism. The store also has collections of nonsexist, multicultural children's books and books focused on Black, Hispanic, Asian, and Native American women.
In addition to selling books, the bookstore posts information about women's events, maintains a community bulletin board, and even acts as an informal referral service for everything from women's softball teams to counseling resources. A catalog service makes books available to women in other parts of the state, including rural communities. Post and Umminger also work with other women's services and groups, sharing information and cosponsoring events whenever possible. Initially organized as a nonprofit organization, BookWoman is as much a community service as it is a commercial enterprise.
In fact, 1988 was the first year the bookstore showed a profit. Post and Umminger are grateful to be paying the bills, employing a part-time assistant, and drawing decent salaries. Most important, however, as Umminger explains, "everything goes back into the store. We want to make sure BookWoman survives, even when we're not around."
Fifteen years ago, few people would have predicted survival. Two Austin women, Nancy Lee Marquis and Cynthia Roberts, visited feminist bookstores in Oakland, California, and, as Marquis explained in the local newspaper The Rag, "saw that a store could help create a new culture." Inspired, they established a collective of ten to twelve women who raised funds, located a space, and finally — with $500 collected through fundraisers and sales of "stock" and redeemable coupons — began ordering books. They called their new venture the Common Woman Bookstore, a name derived from a poem by Judy Grahn: "the common woman is as common as the best of bread / and will rise." The paper announced that the Common Woman would open December 1, 1974, and "will have all the woman's books anyone ever saw and then some."
The store opened in a tiny storefront above a haircut store near the University of Texas. Staffed by volunteers from the collective, it had limited hours and a small selection of feminist literature and children's books. Still, the Common Woman was the place to find "the important books," as Post puts it — new works on feminist theory and criticism, Third-World issues, "herstory" reprints by the Feminist Press, and the wave of chapbooks and journals emerging from small women's presses throughout the country.
Neither Post nor Umminger belonged to the original collective. "They recruited me," recalls Post, "because I worked in the university library, and they thought I'd know a lot about organizing books. They needed someone to set up an inventory system, so I volunteered. But I really didn't know as much as they thought. I just found a reference book and picked out a system. It worked; we still use it today."
By the time Karen Umminger moved from New York to Austin in 1978, the collective had lost its storefront and most of its membership. Susan Post was operating the bookstore almost singlehandedly out of two rooms in her home, working mornings at the library and opening the bookstore every afternoon. Umminger, who had lived across the street from Woman Books in New York and dreamed of opening a bookstore herself, pitched in.
In 1980, the two women decided that the bookstore "was at a standstill in terms of growth and outreach to women." They quit their part-time jobs, invested $4,000 of their own funds, moved the bookstore to its present location at 324 East 6th Street, and changed its name. "We were taking a big chance, says Umminger, "but it paid off."
The partners also note that they've always been able to count on support from the women's community. Volunteers helped move the bookstore and painted and built counters for the new space. A $10,000 gift from an anonymous donor enabled Post and Umminger to expand their current space last year. Volunteers continue to help keep the store open evenings and weekends.
Many things have changed since the days of the Common Woman collective. "Back then, we couldn't find enough women's books to order," Post recalls. "Now, there are multitudes. Mainstream publishers are carrying a lot of women's books. Harper & Row, for example, publishes much of the literature on women and spirituality, and university presses are increasingly publishing work in women's studies. The difficulty lies in finding works of quality among all the choices that are out there."
Like the Common Woman, the bookstore still focuses strongly on small presses and books that aren't readily available elsewhere. Another thing that hasn't changed is the need for a space like BookWoman. Says Post, "Women still come in and tell us: I've been looking for something like this."
The bookstore will mark its fifteenth anniversary this year, one of only a handful of women's bookstores to have survived since the mid-1970s. Its owners — and its patrons — have a lot to celebrate.