LITTLE ALIYAH SPREADS out the thin book on the hardwood floor and kneels down to count the black, brown, red and yellow hands drawn on the inside pages. “One, two, three, four,” she says, touching each hand and finishing at 10.

Her two moms are searching for another book for Aliyah’s third birthday next month, taking turns watching their daughter and scanning the packed shelves in the children’s section at Charis Books & More in Little Five Points.

“I grew up in Candler Park and my mom and dad used to bring me here [as a kid],” says one of Aliyah’s moms, Rebecca Bradley, 34, a professor in the psychiatric department at Emory University.

“It’s a multi-generational thing. We like to buy from independent book stores and Charis has a much better selection about gay and lesbian parenting, multi-cultural families, adoptive families,” she adds.

And after 30 years, Charis — which means “gift” in Greek — continues to make an impact on customers as one of the oldest independent feminist bookstores in the country and the oldest such store in the Southeast.

“Very, very loyal customers,” says Sara Look, 34, a lesbian and co-owner of Charis, about a component of the store’s success.

“And if we can get students [from kindergarten to college] here, we know we can get lifelong customers. We’ve had kids grow up with Charis. And we sell books that change people’s lives,” Look says.

LIKE THE STORIES of and by the legendary women Charis Books embraces and sells, the store’s continuing success is an inspiring tale.

In 1974, Linda Bryant, then 26, envisioned a neighborhood bookstore where people could meet, socialize, buy and read books to change their lives and come together to educate each other as a true community.

Bryant and her friend, Barbara Borgman, approached a young Edie Cofrin, who has become one of Atlanta’s most respected lesbian philanthropists, with the idea. Cofrin loved it so much she donated about $20,000 to bring Charis to life.

The store opened in a small space on Moreland Avenue in the inner-city neighborhood that eventually became the hip hangout for all things alternative now known as Little Five Points.

“We loved this neighborhood long before it became chic,” says Bryant, also a lesbian and now 56. “This was a true inner-city neighborhood and we wanted to have a place here that would encourage personal and social change — that is what was intended from the beginning.”

WHEN CHARIS OPENED in 1974, it was originally intended to be a non-profit bookstore and meeting place for spiritual nourishment. But it was also in the1970s and through the ’80s that feminist publishing companies thrived and published books for a hungry audience of girls and women seeking to better understand themselves and each other. And as Bryant’s outlook on life blossomed, the purpose of the store evolved.

“We have a diverse and open-minded vision of creating community … of wanting to become part of something bigger than ourselves,” Bryant says. “We wanted this to be a place for mutuality of exchange and growth.”

In 1993, Charis moved across the street into a former house on Euclid Avenue, tucked behind a large tree. The inconspicuous and nondescript, yet renowned, feminist bookstore remains a safe place for feminists — both men and women — to gather, read and learn.

“We have always been about wholeness and erasing borders — and we still are,” Bryant says.

And when people find a book, read a book and are enlightened by it, society, slowly but surely, becomes a better place, Bryant says.

“I believe those tiny, incremental changes change the whole world,” she says.

A DECADE AGO, more than 120 women’s bookstores existed across the country; today, there may be 40 remaining, Look says.

While Charis has survived for three decades, those years haven’t been easy. And now, with a 30,000-square-foot Barnes & Noble coming to a suburban shopping center just down the street from the funky Little Five Points neighborhood, the future of the intimate store located in a 1,200 square-foot tightly packed house is, perhaps, uncertain.

In fact, Bryant’s one wish for Charis is that it someday be endowed.

“So we can continue to do the important work we are doing and not live on the edge like we are doing now,” she says.

Recognizing the financial straits of the bookstore, friends and staff formed ...

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