Shopping for Community at Cry Baby General Store
Cry Baby General Store is nestled comfortably in the Shelby Park neighborhood of Louisville, offering a wide selection of products like chainstitch embroidered apparel, toilet paper, cards, and crocheted catnip-filled doobies made by “my friend’s cousin’s wife.” You could even find a certain fabulous queer publication on the shelves. But products aren’t all that Cry Baby offers its neighborhood.
When we think of community leaders, we don’t typically think of the owners of general stores for one reason or another. Our minds drift to mayors or city council members – the exceptionally privileged and powerful. Those people, however, don’t tend to support our community in the same way that Shawn O’Donnell (she/they), founder of Cry Baby, does.
Whether it’s providing a place to hang out for the neighborhood kids, or warm clothes for the homeless, O’Donnell is showing up for Shelby Park every day in incredible and tangible ways from the counter of her wacky, queer, gorgeous general store.
So, let’s start at the beginning. How did you come up with Cry Baby?
I’ve always worked in retail in different capacities – at the corporate level and also just [as a sales associate]. But I feel like we’re losing stores. People don’t even know how to interact with stores anymore. So, I felt like my neighborhood deserved a general store. We need stuff to do and places to go. Places to get toilet paper and hammers.
When I found the building there was nothing in it. They were going to do a build-out and it took so long that I got into chainstitch embroidery – just out of anxiety – that feels like it took over my life. It’s half of my business now, and it was an accident.
The term “general store” is kind of old-timey. What does a general store mean to you?
In the last decade there’s been this push towards an old-timey, authentic, almost masculine kind of vibe that I’m just not really into. But once you get through all the artifice, the idea that people should have affordable nice things that they know where they came from [doesn’t] seem so outlandish.
Growing up I lived in a small town that had a downtown and I used to go to the stores a lot after school. It’s just somewhere to be and it’s really good for your mental health. I think most people take that for granted.
I just wanted people to have somewhere to be that wasn’t trying to push or pull them in any direction. I think I’ve achieved the thing I wanted to do: give people somewhere to stop, you know? Hang out if they want or just look around – something to do.
Tell me more about your hometown and the story of coming to Kentucky.
So, I grew up in upstate New York, and I spent my summers working at my grandma’s ice cream shop, which was a Carvel in Connecticut. She was my first boss, and she was just a cool New York lady. Everybody really liked her – she was vibrant and fun and loved working at the ice cream place. That was her thing. She took it really seriously but had a lot of fun doing it. It just showed me what work could – and should – look like as a young child, so I always kept that in mind.
I came to visit Kentucky for the first time when I was 25. I just had a friend who lived here, and I needed to get out of Albany. We were just online friends until then, but we fell in love, so I moved here and got married. We’re divorced now, but we’re still great friends. He’s a big part of how I was able to do this and he’s very supportive, so that all worked out.
How has the Louisville community responded to Cry Baby?
Oh gosh, I can’t think too hard about it or I’ll cry. Last winter I put out a call on social media for specific items that some of the houseless folks in our community had been asking me for – because a lot of houseless people come in here and ask for help. People [who answered on social media] brought adult diapers, snacks, coats, socks, gloves, hats. We were able to keep people in this neighborhood warm throughout the winter. It was amazing.
A few weeks ago, business got really slow. It happened everywhere; it wasn’t just me. But I couldn’t pay rent and didn’t know what to do. So I posted that Cry Baby needs help, and people immediately, in all kinds of ways, helped save my business.
Do you feel like your idea of community has changed since opening Cry Baby?
I don’t know if it’s changed so much as become more concrete. You know, when people say community, you have this vision of people working together in a neighborhood and having events, but what it’s turned into is that every day I spend in here – even if I’m not open – I’m interacting with community. Houseless folks will knock on the door, and I’ll bring them a snack and chat with them. The kids next door come in and hang out sometimes. Over the course of my day, I do so much in the community without even realizing it because it’s so ingrained in what’s going on here.
That’s not to say that I do so much for the community – it’s more that the community is very present [in Shelby Park]. The businesses on the street – Trouble Bar, Maeda, Perso – they’re all great neighbors. I love to get here in the morning, settle in, go get a coffee at Hinterhof and wave to the hair salon. It’s just a goofy little town. I wouldn’t want to be with any other community. I’m sure all communities are great, but this one is really special.
At the end of the day, when I leave here, I’m often exhausted, but I’m never drained. I feel very satisfied and full. I don’t really stress out before I go to sleep because I’m just grateful.
Okay, to end, if Cry Baby could be any song, what would it be?
Magic by Selena Gomez, from the Wizards of Waverly Place soundtrack.