Everyone Deserves A Seat at the Table: How Emily Autenrieth Is Creating a Safer, More Inclusive Bookstore for Families in Elk Grove

Interview by Heather Anderson

When Emily Autenrieth opened A Seat at the Table Books in early 2020, it wasn’t just about offering diverse titles. It was about offering something much rarer: a sense of safety and belonging.

From pop-up tables and free doorstep deliveries during the early pandemic days to a full-fledged bookstore café and vibrant community hub, Emily has built more than a business. She’s created a refuge for misfits, a platform for queer joy, and a radically welcoming space for families in Elk Grove—and beyond. We sat down to talk about parenting, protestors, pride events, and the picture books that can help kids feel safe in who they are.

You opened a pop-up bookstore out of your home in early 2020—right before the world shut down. Can you take us back to that moment? What made you believe Elk Grove needed this?

It actually started with a connection you made! You were invited to speak at the Facebook Community Summit and brought me along as your guest and Mamahood co-admin. The summit was all about celebrating community leaders making an impact through Facebook, and while we were there, I met Eden Torres—a photographer capturing queer activists and allies. A couple of weeks later, Eden posted something that changed my life: she said she wished she could open a queer bookstore. That one comment was the lightning strike.

The idea completely took over. I was driving my minivan, taking the kids to and from things, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I kept thinking, Somebody should do this. Somebody should open a bookstore café in Elk Grove. We didn’t have a bookstore. We didn’t have enough cafés. We didn’t have enough places where every member of the family could feel like they belonged.

Once the name A Seat at the Table popped into my head—rooted in the belief that everyone deserves one—I knew I had to be the one to do it. It tied together everything that mattered to me: making space for community connection, giving people safe ways to learn about their own and others’ lived experiences, and honoring people’s full identities.

Oh yeah! I love being reminded of that early spark! Incredible. What did it look like in those early days, launching during Covid?

I’m so grateful we started as a pop-up. I knew I needed time—both to figure out what I was doing and to wait until both my kids were in school full-time. So we launched as a pop-up and online store in January 2020, completely unaware of what was coming.

Once the pandemic hit, we adapted quickly. We held outdoor events with tables of books, hand sanitizer, and masks—always erring on the side of caution. Health and safety were core to our values, especially as a space serving families and marginalized groups. We also offered free home delivery, so people could get books that reflected their lives, dropped right on their doorstep, no contact required.

When did it evolve into a full-fledged brick-and-mortar bookstore?

We signed the lease in April 2021—back when it felt like COVID might finally be winding down. The space had previously been a Float Spa, so it took seven months to remodel. We officially opened our doors in November of that year… right as the Omicron variant hit.

It was definitely another curveball. Suddenly we were trying to launch a food-service café inside a progressive bookstore, while still prioritizing safety for a community that was being especially cautious. But even with all the unknowns, we stayed focused on our core values and just kept going.

“My dream is that kids would be born with neutral pronouns and then get to decide for themselves if gendered pronouns are something they want to take on. That belief in self-determination really shapes how I lead the store.”
— Emily Autenrieth

Your store isn’t just a bookstore—it’s a queer-affirming space and a beacon for inclusive education. How did your lived experience shape that vision?

I grew up in a very conservative Christian environment—K–12 Christian school, mission trips, a degree in theology. I really drank the Kool-Aid. I started to unravel some of that programming in my early twenties, but it wasn’t until my 30s that I fully embraced my queerness. The power of that early conditioning ran deep.

It was only through being immersed in safe, affirming spaces—created by others—that I was finally able to begin knowing and accepting myself.

That’s what drives me now. I create that kind of space for others—especially young people—so they can feel seen, safe, and celebrated much earlier than I did. And so they can avoid both experiencing and unintentionally causing the kind of exclusion that harms all of us.

You’ve talked about wanting all kids to feel seen on your shelves—but also protected in your store. After the protests and threats your team endured, how did you decide to double down instead of back down?

Backing down was never an option. If we retreat, we’re erasing the very communities we’re here to serve. We’ve had protestors show up—including a local pastor who shouted Bible verses at children, and a man who drove several hours with a microphone, trying to force his way into the store and shouting some really awful things.

At one of those events, a police officer actually thanked the harasser for being there. That moment was deeply unsettling—it sent a clear message about whose safety was being prioritized. So I filed a formal complaint and met with the police chief and the mayor, and that officer is now undergoing additional training.

In response, we’ve strengthened our safety protocols. With support from Elk Grove United Methodist Church—which is proudly queer-affirming and pays our drag storytime performers—we’ve built a team of volunteers to help with safety patrols, restructured event layouts to minimize visibility from outside, and trained our staff and volunteers in de-escalation. We don’t let hate dictate our presence. If anything, it’s only deepened our resolve.

You use “ey” as your pronoun—something many readers may not have seen before. Can you share more about your gender identity and how it shows up in your work?

I don’t love pronouns in general, but one day I was ordering buttons from Crafty Queer Studio and saw one that just said “ey/em.” It’s a shortened version of “they/them,” and the “em” also happens to match my name, Emily—which felt like a perfect fit. It gave me a way to honor my identity while still feeling like myself.

I do still accept she/her, because frankly, I have enough battles I’m fighting right now. But when people use ey/em, it affirms that I’m not cisgender. It feels good to be seen.

My dream is that kids would be born with neutral pronouns and then get to decide for themselves if gendered pronouns are something they want to take on. That belief in self-determination really shapes how I lead the store. I’m not here to define people—I’m here to support them, listen to them, and create a space where they can be fully themselves.

Many bookstores center books. Yours seems to center people. What’s the heart of the work for you right now?

The heart is still the name: giving everyone a seat at the table.

Lately, we’ve been embracing the word “misfits.” So many of us on staff—and in our community—grew up feeling like we didn’t quite fit. We’ve created a space where those misfits can finally exhale, be themselves, and know they’re not alone.

Running a values-forward indie bookstore in 2025 is no small feat. What are the biggest challenges you’re facing right now?

Unfortunately, the biggest challenge has always been money. And I say “unfortunately” because we’re not about money—I may never make a dollar off this, and that would be okay. But we do have to cover our bills.

Rent is high. Wages matter. We serve eco-roasted coffee that’s ethically sourced, often from women-run farms—and that costs more, because ethics cost more. And we’re in an industry where book prices are set by the publishers, so we can’t raise prices to offset our costs.

We’re constantly trying to give everyone a seat at the table in a way that meets them where they’re at financially, while still staying afloat. It’s hard. Capitalism doesn’t make exceptions for mission-driven businesses.

We live in this constant contradiction—trying to do deeply anti-capitalist, values-based work while relying on capitalist systems to survive. And that tension is exhausting.

How do you keep going when burnout or backlash hits?

It’s the community. I work 55 to 60 hours a week, and I’m basically always on call—even when I say I’m offline. It’s a lot, and there are definitely moments I feel like I don’t have anything left to keep me going.

But then someone will tell me it was the first place they ever expressed their gender identity. Or that it’s the only public space where they feel safe. Or that their kid finally found a book that made them feel seen.

Those reminders always come when I need them most. They’re what keep me going—knowing that the mission is working and that we’re giving people something they didn’t have before.

Your events calendar is full—from author talks to queer prom to family resource events. What are some favorite recent moments?

Our fourth annual Pride celebration really stands out. It was our first big party back in 2022, and it’s grown into something really special. During the day, we hosted small business vendors—many of them queer-owned—and welcomed indie authors who tabled and led workshops. Supporting local creators is a huge part of our mission, especially indie authors, and that’s another thing that sets us apart.

Then we had a drag show in the evening led by Valshapero, the same host we’ve worked with since the beginning. One woman drove almost three hours from Santa Rosa to attend. She’s a senior who only came out as trans in the last couple of years, and she told us it was well worth the drive to show up as her authentic self.

That night gave her a chance to feel celebrated, not just accepted. And that’s everything.

What do you wish more people understood about book bans?

Banning a book like Julián is a Mermaid or Jacob’s Room to Choose doesn’t just erase queer identity—it erases safety. These stories aren’t just for queer kids; they’re for all kids. They teach empathy, courage, and self-love. They help kids understand that being who you are is not just okay—it’s beautiful.

And yet, people claim these books are inappropriate simply because they include queer characters. It’s frustrating that we even have to say this, but there’s nothing sexual about a child expressing their identity. These books don’t “push an agenda.” They reflect lived experiences.

When we remove them, we’re not protecting kids—we’re silencing them. We’re taking away their mirrors and windows. And that kind of erasure is a form of violence.

For moms who want to raise thoughtful, inclusive kids—but don’t know where to start—any favorite books or tips?

Picture books are incredibly powerful—for kids and adults. One of my library tech friends calls them “everyone books,” which I love. They’re a gentle, effective way to open up conversations and build understanding together.

For younger readers, some of my go-to picture books are:

For grown-ups or caregivers looking to better understand how to raise inclusive kids, I recommend:

And for middle grade readers (roughly ages 8–12), these novels are excellent:

These books touch on identity, race, gender, disability, family, and belonging—often all at once. They invite curiosity and empathy in a way that feels safe and natural, and they can be just as transformative for the grown-ups reading them aloud as they are for the kids hearing them.

What’s next for A Seat at the Table?

This needs to be our break-even year. That’s the biggest goal.

We’re also celebrating a fun full-circle moment: My store manager, Arden, and I met at a 2020 pop-up when I sold them a copy of Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon. We recently appeared on the podcast This Queer Book Saved My Life—with Samantha Shannon—and we’re hosting a midnight release party this fall for her next book, Among the Burning Flowers, with a virtual appearance from the author.

What’s one thing you hope every visitor—especially a mom or a young person—feels when they walk into your store?

I hope they can finally let go of the need to mask who they really are. That they feel relaxed, unjudged, and safe to be themselves.

Ready to explore more or get involved?

Connect with A Seat At The Table on Facebook or Instagram.

You can also find A Seat At The Table on The M List, The Mamahood’s searchable database of mom-recommended resources, or connect and collaborate with Emily inside The Club membership for women Founders.

Heather Anderson