The Library Has My Name On It (Literally), and London’s Calling
Tomorrow I cut the ribbon on a library named after me. This fall, I board a flight to London. Here’s what I’ve been up to — and what’s next.
Hello friends, old and new! I’m Marley Dias – a reader, an activist, a storyteller, and a proud lover of books. If you’ve just joined my journey, welcome to my THIRD SPACE, a place where I reflect on the art, stories, and cultural movements that shape Black life — and share what I’m building, witnessing, and dreaming along the way.
I’ve been on a wild ride since starting the #1000BlackGirlBooks campaign as a sixth-grader, and today I’m still riding that wave of joyful literacy advocacy.
In this post, I want to reintroduce myself and celebrate three developments in my life: (1) the grand opening of a school library in Los Angeles that carries my name and legacy, (2) my upcoming study abroad adventure in London, and (3) a spotlight on one of my creative inspirations, the brilliant Black British artist Chris Ofili.
Each of these is a chapter in the story I’m writing – a story about books, art, youth power, and cultural memory coming together. So grab a comfy seat (maybe with a good book by your side), and let’s dive in!
Shelves, Scissors, and 650 Kids Waiting
Tomorrow is a day I’ve been eagerly awaiting: the grand opening of the Marley Dias Library at View Park Preparatory Accelerated Charter (K-8) in South Los Angeles! Yes, you read that right – there’s now a school library named after me (wild, I know). This isn’t just any library; it’s a labor of love built by a whole community, and it represents so much of what I believe in: reading equity, representation, and the power of youth to make change.
How did this library come to be? The story is as inspiring as it gets. A dynamic team at View Park K-8 saw that their students hungered for books and a space to call a library, and they decided to do something about it. The library was established by Ms. Emma Schultheis-Gerry, the school’s passionate Literacy Specialist, together with literacy aide Jackie Ocon. They had a vision to transform an empty room into a vibrant literary haven.
With the enthusiastic backing of Principal Dwayne Washington and Community Schools Coordinator Janet Stewart, that vision came to fruition. These champions paved the way – from gathering resources to rallying support – and the students themselves even voted to name the library after me, a young author and activist they felt connected to. I’m beyond honored that the kids saw themselves in the #1000BlackGirlBooks movement and chose to carry that legacy forward in their own school. It means the world to me that my 10-year-old self’s project has inspired other young people to create something enduring in their community.
Thinking back to the origins of #1000BlackGirlBooks, I remember being an sixth-grader frustrated by the lack of Black girls in the stories I read at school. Rather than just complain, I decided to collect 1,000 books that feature Black girls as protagonists – and boy, did that idea take off. With the help of bloggers, teachers, kids, and literally millions of supporters, the campaign exploded far beyond 1,000 books. To date, we’ve collected over 15,000 books and donated them to schools, libraries, and communities in need (even as far as Jamaica, where my mom is from!). Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that one day a school library would be named in honor of this movement. It’s a beautiful full-circle moment: what started as a drive to get more books into kids’ hands has grown into an actual physical library serving hundreds of students every day.
The Marley Dias Library at View Park K-8 is more than a room with books – it’s a statement about equity and empowerment. For years, these students did not have a fully resourced library. Now, thanks to this project, they will walk into a space filled with books that reflect their experiences, their culture, and their imaginations.
Representation matters, and every shelf in this library is being stocked with that in mind. I’ve been working closely with Miss Emma (you can find her as @MissEmmaSG on social media) to recommend some of my favorite titles featuring Black protagonists, characters of color, and diverse voices. From contemporary fiction to historical biographies to fun fantasy adventures, the collection is intentionally curated to be as inclusive and affirming as possible. I want every child who steps into the library to see a book that feels like “it’s for them.” Whether it’s a little Black girl finding a heroine who looks like her on the cover, or any kid discovering a window into a culture different from their own, this library is about belonging and discovery.
Of course, building a library from scratch is no small feat. It has truly been a community effort. Parents, teachers, local organizations, and book lovers from all over have pitched in. We’ve been running a book drive campaign for weeks now, collecting brand new books to fill the shelves and to give away to students.
The campaign runs through May 10, 2025, and we set some ambitious goals: 650 books in total – enough to ensure that each of the 650+ students at View Park K-8 gets a brand new book of their own to keep, and that we still have about 40 books left to establish a robust library collection for the school.
As of today, we’re so close to the finish line. The excitement is palpable: boxes of books have been arriving, filled with stories waiting to be read. Our mantra has been simple: every student deserves more than just access to books – they deserve a book to call their own.
I have to give a special shout-out to some partners in this effort. Thank you Elizabeth’s Bookshop & Writing Centre (shout-out to founder Rachel Cargle for curating an awesome list of titles with us) – together we are ensuring each scholar gets a great book of their own and plenty more for the library shelves.
Here’s how you can support if you’d like to join in this last big push before the campaign wraps up:
Donate a Book: We’ve set up a wishlist through Bookshop where you can purchase a book that will go straight to View Park K-8’s kids or library. Every book gets us closer to our goal.
Spread the Word: Share about the #1000BlackGirlBooks movement and this library on your social media, especially tagging @ICEFpublicSchools (the network that includes View Park K-8). The more people hear about it, the more support we can drum up for reading equity.
Stay Involved: After the opening, we’ll continue needing volunteer readers, mentors, and of course more books. If you’re in the Los Angeles area, consider reaching out via the View Park K-8 website or LinkedIn page to see how you might help keep this library thriving.
Shouting out ICEF Public Schools (@ICEFpublicSchools), the charter network that embraced this project from day one, and the entire View Park K-8 family – your dedication shows what community investment really means. When a principal, teachers, and students come together to demand a space for learning, magic happens. I also have to thank my mom, Dr. Janice Johnson Dias, and the GrassROOTS Community Foundation team (co-founded by my mom) for instilling in me the know-how to turn vision into action. GrassROOTS taught me early on that when you see a problem, you work with your community to solve it. This library is living proof of that lesson.
Tomorrow, as I stand with Principal Washington and Miss Emma cutting the ribbon (I’ve got my oversized scissors ready ✂️😉), I know I’ll probably cry happy tears. I’ll see 650 faces light up at the sight of shelves full of books just for them. I’ll hear the laughter and chatter of kids already arguing over which book to read first.
In that moment, I’ll be taken back to the little girl I was, who dared to ask “Why aren’t there books about girls like me?” and to all the moments since – from collecting books in my Jersey hometown, to shipping boxes to communities in need, to writing my own book, to co-creating a Netflix show about reading. This library is a celebration of all those milestones. It says: our stories belong everywhere – in our schools, in our libraries, in our hearts.
And trust me, this is just the beginning. As I told the students at View Park, a library is like a seed. You have to water it (with love and new books and active use) so it can grow year after year. I am committed to helping this library blossom. Today one school library, tomorrow who knows – maybe libraries named after other young literacy leaders popping up all over? For now, I’m reveling in this win and cannot wait to see the Marley Dias Library at View Park K-8 buzzing with joyful readers for years to come.
What Happens When a Jersey Girl Lands in Brixton?
As if opening a library weren’t enough excitement, in a few months I’ll be packing my bags and heading to London for a study abroad adventure! This fall, I have the incredible opportunity to spend a semester at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS), University of London. I’m counting down the days until I hop on that plane. This is the ultimate dream for a bookish girl like me: living in a historic city, studying topics I’m passionate about, and immersing myself in a new culture. Consider this my official announcement – London, get ready, because Marley is coming!
To give a bit of background: I’m currently a sociology and African and African American studies student at Harvard, and when the chance came up to do a semester abroad, I knew SOAS was the perfect fit for my interests. SOAS is renowned for its focus on Asian, African, and Middle Eastern studies – basically a hub for learning about the very cultures and communities that #1000BlackGirlBooks is all about celebrating.
I can’t wait to dive into classes about the African diaspora, global Black histories, and literature from across the African continent and Caribbean. I have this vision of myself poring over books in SOAS’s famous library (which specializes in African and Asian collections), discovering stories and perspectives that will enrich my understanding of the world. The nerd in me is thrilled at the academic possibilities, but it’s so much more than that.
More importantly, I’m eager to connect with the Black community in London and learn from a new cultural context. London is a vibrant mosaic of the African diaspora – from Black Brits whose families came from the Caribbean or Africa generations ago, to recent immigrants and students from all over the Black world. I’m excited to visit neighborhoods like Brixton and Peckham that are rich with Black history and culture, to attend events at the Black Cultural Archives, and maybe even do some meet-ups or book swaps with students there.
How cool would it be to do a mini #1000BlackGirlBooks book club in London? I’ve already had a few UK-based readers message me that they’d love to welcome me, and that warms my heart immensely.
Academically, I think being at SOAS will broaden my perspective on the work I care about. In the US, we talk a lot about representation in American kids’ books – but what about British books, African books, Caribbean books?
I have so many questions: What’s the state of children’s literature diversity in the UK? Do Black British girls see themselves in stories at school? Are there similar campaigns to mine happening there? (Spoiler: There are! I’ve heard of movements like “Windows and Mirrors” in UK literature circles, and organisations pushing for more Black authors in British publishing.) I can’t wait to learn and maybe even collaborate with fellow young activists across the pond. It’s a chance for an exchange of ideas: I’ll share what I’ve learned, and I’ll soak up new strategies and insights to bring back home.
On a personal level, this move means growth. I’ll admit – I’m a Jersey girl through and through, and more recently a bit of a Cambridge, girl (college will do that!). Stepping out of my comfort zone and into a new country will challenge me in the best ways.
One of the themes I’ll be exploring while in London is global Black diasporic connections – basically, how Black communities around the world stay connected and share experiences through culture, art, activism, and scholarship.
This has always fascinated me. My own background is a mix: I’m African-American, Jamaican, and Cape Verdean by heritage, born and raised in the U.S. So the diaspora literally lives in me. Now I’ll get to live in the diaspora in a new way, by being part of a Black student community in another country. I plan to document my experiences (get ready for some London vlogs or blog entries!).
I suspect I’ll find that while our accents or national histories might differ, there are so many common threads binding the Black diaspora – a love of music, a resilience in the face of racism, a deep pride in our ancestors, and of course, a shared joy in our stories. Maybe I’ll host a little book club at SOAS and introduce British classmates to my favorite African-American authors, while they introduce me to their favorite Afro-British or African writers. That exchange is the THIRD SPACE I love to inhabit – not just American, not just British, but that creative, connected space between us where we learn from each other.
Before I move on, I want to say this: I am immensely grateful for this opportunity. As a Black girl, as a first-generation American on my mom’s side, I don’t take it for granted that I can travel freely for education. Many people paved the way for me to have this privilege – from my grandparents who immigrated and worked hard, to civil rights activists who fought so students of color could access international education programs. I carry that history with me, like wind beneath my wings. And to any young folks reading this: never be afraid to explore beyond your known world. It might be a different country or simply a different city or community than the one you grew up in. Every time you step into a new environment, you’re stretching yourself, adding new layers to who you are. I know London will change me in ways I can’t even predict yet, and I’m so ready for it. Fall 2025, here I come!
A Portrait of the Artist as a Diasporic Dreamer: Chirs Ofili
One of Chris Ofili’s iconic mixed-media paintings, “The Adoration of Captain Shit and the Legend of the Black Stars” (1998). Notice the vibrant colors, the collage of patterns, and even the textured orbs (yes, that’s elephant dung as part of the art!). Ofili’s bold style and use of unexpected materials help convey complex stories about Black identities and mythologies.
As I prepare for my London chapter, I’ve been diving into the rich world of Black British art and culture. One name that continually leaves me in awe is Chris Ofili, a Nigerian-British artist whose work has mesmerized the art world – and me – for years. I like to think of this as the art part of my books-and-art equation. Just as I champion Black stories in literature, Chris Ofili champions Black imagery and stories on the canvas. And oh, how vibrantly he does it!
For those not familiar, Chris Ofili is a celebrated contemporary artist who was born in Manchester, UK, to Nigerian parents, and later became a leading figure among the Young British Artists. He rose to prominence in the 1990s, and one of the first things people often mention is his innovative (and sometimes controversial) use of materials. Ofili doesn’t just paint with paint – he paints with history and bling and even nature. Many of his most famous works feature bold mixed-media elements: think glitter, sequins, magazine cut-outs, resin, map pins, and famously, lumps of elephant dung adorning the canvas.
Yes, you read that correctly – and when you see his art, it’s stunning how something perceived as waste is transformed into a thoughtful artistic element, often propping up the paintings or symbolizing a connection to the earth and Africa. His canvases are kaleidoscopic and layered, almost kaleidoscopic in color and detail, inviting you to look closer and closer. Every time I see a reproduction of an Ofili piece, I notice some new detail: a hidden face here, a tiny sparkling dot there. It’s like his paintings are alive with secrets.
What really draws me to Ofili, though, is the way he centers Black figures and diasporic themes in his art. He has a whole series of paintings that celebrate Black women and men, sometimes in heavenly or mythical portrayals.
One of his renowned pieces, for example, is “No Woman, No Cry,” a tribute to a Black British mother grieving her son – capturing both pain and resilience in a moment of loss. In that piece (which I hope to see in person at the Tate Britain museum), he embedded collaged images of the woman’s lost son in the tears on her face – weaving a personal story into a universal one.
Ofili’s art often speaks to the Black experience: he’s documented Black joy and beauty, and also confronted racist violence and systemic issues through symbolism and narrative. A lot of his work from the ’90s explicitly challenges the way Black people were treated or perceived; he’ll draw you in with something visually gorgeous and then layer in a message that makes you think hard about race, identity, and history.
Stylistically, I find Ofili’s approach fearless. He merges influences from across the diaspora. You might see echoes of Nigerian folk art or Zimbabwean cave paintings alongside nods to Western religious art or blaxploitation comics. In art theory terms, he embodies hybridity – blending cultural symbols from Africa and Europe into something uniquely his own.
The painting I embedded above, with the flamboyant superhero figure “Captain Shit,” is a great example: it’s playful, a bit cheeky (a Black superhero with a cape and an afro, standing on dung “pedestals” labeled with secret words), yet it’s also making a point about how Black heroes are both exalted and treated like, well, crap by society. The background stars have eyes, almost like they’re the watching public or the ancestors. It’s deep stuff, packaged in bright colors and satire. I love art that operates on multiple levels like that.
So why am I spotlighting Chris Ofili here, in my personal update post? Because I believe in the convergence of books, art, youth power, and cultural memory. Ofili’s work is art as storytelling, art as preserving cultural memory. In a way, his paintings are like books – you have to read them, page by page (or layer by layer). They tell stories of the African diaspora: stories of pain, triumph, spirituality, and everyday life, too. His bold presence in the art world also inspires me as a young Black creative person. He won the prestigious Turner Prize in 1998 (one of the highest honors in British art) at just age 30, making waves as a Black artist unafraid to be himself. That encourages me to be unapologetic in my own mission. Just as Chris broke barriers in visual arts by insisting that Black narratives and materials belong on the gallery wall, I want to break barriers in literature and education by insisting Black narratives belong on every bookshelf.
There’s also a personal connection: I’ve always been artsy alongside being booksy. I used to doodle and draw a lot as a kid (and I still find time to sketch in my journals). Seeing Ofili’s work expanded my imagination of what Black art could be. It could be fun and funky, it could be reverent and ancestral, it could be political and unflinching – sometimes all at once. In one interview I read, Ofili said he wanted to be sincere and outrageous, to be free in his expression without always having to be “proper” or “right.” That stuck with me. As I step into more roles – activist, author, student, even producer – I remind myself that I can be many things and explore many styles. I can write serious essays and also crack jokes; I can lead campaigns and also admit when I’m still learning. Ofili’s multifaceted art reminds me to embrace my own multiplicity.
When I get to London, visiting an Ofili exhibit (if there’s one on) or at least seeing some of his pieces in the museum is high on my to-do list. I’ll stand there as a young Black woman from the other side of the ocean, looking at the creation of a Black British man who managed to capture so much of the diasporic spirit on canvas. I know it will make me feel connected – to him, to our shared African roots, and to the idea that art and stories transcend borders. In a sense, it’s like I have a friend in the city already, through his art. And who knows, maybe I’ll channel some Ofili-inspired creativity in a London project of my own (pop-up art and reading event, anyone?).
Our THIRD SPACE Is Just Getting Started
As I wrap up this lengthy love letter/update, I’m filled with gratitude and hope. This post covered a lot – from a new library in LA, to academic adventures in London, to the art that’s inspiring my soul. At first glance, these might seem like separate threads, but to me they are all intertwined in the tapestry of my life’s mission: to uplift stories that need to be heard, to connect communities, and to celebrate Black excellence past, present, and future.
The Marley Dias Library at View Park K-8 represents legacy – not just my legacy, but the legacy of every person who believes in educational equity and has fought to give kids of color access to literature that validates them. When those students walk into that library, I want them to feel like superstars, worthy of every opportunity. The work we did there stands on the shoulders of giants (librarians, educators, activists) and also on the tiny shoulders of 11-year-old me, a little girl who just wanted to see herself in a book and ended up starting something much bigger than herself.
My journey to London represents growth and connection – it’s about me stepping out of what I know and humbly learning from others. It’s about forging bonds across the diaspora, finding common ground in unfamiliar places. I truly believe that the more we connect globally, the stronger our movements for justice and representation become. I’ll be taking all of you with me in spirit; every lesson I learn, I’ll be thinking how I can share it back with my community.
Shining a spotlight on Chris Ofili represents inspiration and creativity – it’s a reminder that activism isn’t just protests and petitions; it can be cultural, it can be artistic, it can be joyful. People like Ofili use their craft to make people think and feel differently, and that’s a form of activism too. In my own way, I strive to be creative in how I advocate – whether it’s writing a blog post like this with a personal touch, producing a Netflix show to reach kids through storytime, or finding fresh, fun ways to get folks excited about reading (maybe I’ll design some cool bookmarks or hold live read-alouds with puppets – who knows!).
Before I say goodbye for now, I want to thank you – yes, you reading this. Whether you’ve been following me since the early #1000BlackGirlBooks days or you just stumbled across this post as a new follower, your support fuels me. Every comment, every share, every book you donate, every young person you encourage to read – it matters. You all make up my “third space,” this community of changemakers and dreamers that I’m lucky to be a part of.
Please continue to walk with me on this journey. Celebrate with me tomorrow as we open that beautiful library in South LA (I’ll definitely post pictures and videos – wait till you see the mural and the cozy reading nook!). Cheer me on in the fall when I swap out my Harvard hoodie for a London raincoat and dive into classes at SOAS. And engage with me as we explore more artistic and cultural spotlights – I have a feeling I’ll meet many more inspiring figures, and I’ll want to share their stories with you here.
The future is bright, friends. I often sign off by saying “keep reading,” but today I’ll add: keep reading, keep creating, keep believing. The books we read, the art we admire, the knowledge we pursue – all of it is lighting the path to a more inclusive and empathetic world. I’m excited and ready for these next chapters, and I’m so happy to have you along for the ride. Here’s to grand openings, global adventures, and the beautiful synergy of books and art that carries our stories forward.
Until next time,
Marley
🙌🏽💐💐💐🩷