The viral reading platform BookTok encourages inclusivity yet continues to perpetuate the same biases that plague traditional publishing.

In recent years, BookTok has become a powerhouse in the publishing industry, reviving forgotten titles, launching debut authors into high-profile careers, and influencing what lands on bestseller lists. But despite its reputation for revolutionising literary culture, BookTok is far from a utopian reading space. The platform often reinforces the same inequalities it claims to challenge. Its algorithm, creator culture, and partnerships with publishing giants have inadvertently reinforced longstanding biases in the literary world. One of the most pressing issues is how writers of colour, particularly Black, Asian, Indigenous, and other BIPOC authors, are often only recognised when producing “highbrow” or literary fiction. Meanwhile, white authors thrive in the realm of accessible, commercial narratives.

When you scroll through the #BookTok hashtag, a clear pattern emerges. The hashtag is littered with popular authors such as Colleen Hoover, Taylor Jenkins Reid, Sally Rooney, Sarah J. Maas, Ali Hazelwood, and Rebecca Yarros. These authors, who are predominantly white and cisgender, are now household names in the reading community. Their works, often rooted in romance, contemporary drama, or fantasy, gain viral traction, book deals, high-profile adaptations, and endless praise. While many of these authors are talented in their own right, their success is also bolstered by BookTok’s algorithm and the publishing industry’s marketing priorities.

TikTok’s partnership with Penguin Random House, for instance, allows users to link books directly in videos, creating a fast track to virality for select titles. But as The Daily Star notes, “this elevates certain titles but results in repetitive recommendations.” In practice, this creates a literary culture saturated with white authors telling white, heteronormative stories for similarly positioned audiences.

By contrast, authors of colour often gain recognition only through deeply literary, and emotionally demanding works, typically exploring themes of trauma, identity, or cultural displacement. Writers such as Ocean Vuong (On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous), Hanya Yanagihara (A Little Life), and R.F. Kuang (Babel) have earned their place in BookTok’s spotlight, and receive widespread acclaim. But their recognition is tied to their density, trauma, and cultural critique. Hanya Yanigahara has also faced polarising reception on BookTok with some audiences dismissing A Little Life as glorified “torture porn”. While their works are widely respected, they are not easy reads, and their virality reflects a “worthiness” rooted in pain and complexity, not the joy and escapism, typically cherished for white authors.

This doesn’t mean that BIPOC authors aren’t writing commercial fiction – they certainly are. Authors such as Ana Huang (Twisted Love) have built devoted followings. But such works rarely receive the same visibility. BookTok’s algorithm favours quick emotional payoffs, popular tropes, and accessible prose – elements often associated with contemporary romance or fantasy written by white authors. Meanwhile, BIPOC authors are often expected to “prove” their value by creating profound explorations of identity, trauma, or marginalisation. Their creativity is frequently reduced to educational value for white audiences seeking self-improvement through fiction.

As The Peak points out, “When BIPOC authors are pigeonholed into writing trauma narratives or stories that centre around race or identity, their creative potential is stifled.” Many readers seek comfort, not confrontation. But this preference influences whose stories get told—and whose don’t. Expecting marginalised authors to consistently excavate and expose their pain for public consumption, is not only limiting, but exploitative. 

This disparity raises a critical question: Why must writers of colour work harder to be seen? The answer lies in systemic publishing biases and algorithmic curation. Publishers tend to channel marketing budgets into titles they believe will sell, and the current BookTok model has conditioned them to assume that white-authored romance and fantasy are safer bets. TikTok’s algorithm then reinforces these choices by pushing already-popular creators and books to the forefront. It becomes a feedback loop in which diversity is performatively celebrated but rarely sustained.

Some creators are fighting back and resisting this cycle. A growing number of Black, Brown, and Indigenous BookTokers are working tirelessly to spotlight diverse voices. Campaigns such as #DiversifyBookTok and #BlackBookTok aim to counterbalance the erasure, offering readers alternatives to the mainstream algorithm and promoting a broader literary spectrum. But the burden of diversifying BookTok shouldn’t fall solely on marginalised creators. Publishers, influencers, and readers alike need to examine their own habits. As Huck Magazine observes in their feature on Black BookTok creators: “The work of amplifying diverse stories often falls on those most marginalised. It’s unpaid, emotionally draining, and treated as a niche rather than a necessity.”

The Shreveport Times also highlights how BookTok has reshaped the industry, but the publication fails to note that change doesn’t reach everyone equally. While some benefit from virality, others remain overlooked despite their brilliance. BookTok has the power to change the literary landscape, but only if we allow it to evolve. That means platforming BIPOC authors who write across all genres, from cozy romances to experimental science fiction. It means recognising that BIPOC authors shouldn’t have to bare their deepest struggles to be valued for their talent. It means that audiences, publishers and BookTok alike must start holding the industry accountable for who they choose to market and why.

If BookTok truly wants to bring passion, inclusivity and innovation to the reading world, it must challenge the inequalities it has inherited and sometimes replicated. Until all voices are celebrated equally, the literary landscape will remain incomplete.