Book Banning Paradox: Removing Them Highlights Their Value

Banned Books Week is a good time to reflect on the implications of book banning and on one of librarianship’s chronic challenges: protecting the freedom to read. It’s easy to see attempts to ban books as an act of this particular political moment. But every year public libraries and school media centers face challenges to what is placed on their shelves.

The practice of book banning goes back thousands of years, and in this country, the censorship of certain printed books dates to the 17th Century.

Book banning today is location and context specific. When a person or group objects to a book’s content—due to subject matter or themes — they initiate a process for its removal from library collections.

The process may be as simple as filling out a form or may involve lengthy community discussions and interpretation of policy and law. If the challenge is successful, the book may be discarded, or it may sit on back-room shelves awaiting a reversal of sociopolitical fortune.

The book will be less accessible. But there will still be plenty of ways to read it. Amazon, interlibrary loan, a friend’s bookshelf or online sources like the Palace Banned Book Club are all excellent sources for this supposedly dangerous content.

The American Library Association’s Most Banned Books of 2024 reveals interesting trends. All 10 of the books, ranging from the relatively contemporary Me, Earl and the Dying Girl to the literary classic Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, are challenged for being “sexually explicit.”

Many of the books are also intended for young adult audiences. For example, John Green appears on this list. He has written several books, but it is Looking For Alaska, a book based on his own boarding school experience that examines teenage identity and sexuality. It is tied for sixth on the most banned books list, with a documented total of 30 challenges.

Objections include concerns about identity formation, particularly gender and sexual identity collocated with “sexual explicitness.” Also on the list is Ellen Hopkins’ Crank, that discusses, in semi-autobiographical fashion, the protagonist’s struggles with drug addiction at a young age, as well as sex, and navigating addiction. It is fiction to be sure but rooted in truth.

At the very top of the list of challenged books are two that are explicitly labeled as memoirs. In second, with 38 challenges is Maia Kobabe’s “Genderqueer.” In first place with 39 challenges is George M. Johnson’s “All Boys Aren’t Blue.”

Both books are about people who openly identify as LGBTQIA+.  The intersection between LGBTQIA+ content and book banning are well-documented. While the intention is to eliminate the possibility of reading these books, threatening removal might only intensify the interest of folks who resonate to the identities that are explored.

In an ideal world, seeking out LGBTQIA+-related information would be facilitated by local queer-affinity groups such as a school’s Gay Straight Alliance or at a local LGBTQ+ community center.

With the current administration actively eroding support to queer-affirming resources and, in some cases, making it illegal to talk about gender and sexuality in school settings, LGBTQIA+ affirming information gets further marginalized.

Questionable websites and even pornographic content become the information sources of young LGBTQIA+. The result is a frustrating escalation of the dangers which book challenges purported to be dismantling. Emergent social media platforms move faster than any tool can moderate their content.

Supportive and helpful health and identity information aimed at LGBTQ+ youth tends to get flagged and removed by automated moderation tools, which cannot differentiate between vetted information and adult entertainment content. Reliable LGBTQ+ digital information disappears at alarming rates.

Banning books that provide vital information for individuals thinking about their identities, particularly identities that are underrepresented within popular culture and media, leads people to seek that information from other sources.

If they can’t get it from their library, they can turn to the internet or to the marketplace.  To be clear, this is not an entirely negative thing. We know there is value for LGBTQIA+ youth in having  access to information across digital spaces and within media.

If a parent is uncomfortable with what they feel to be the sexually explicit nature of a book and fears content that might bring up topics about a child’s gender and sexuality too early, denying access may lead to that child finding information elsewhere.

Labeling these books as bad and making them inaccessible signals to young people that asking questions about their gender or sexuality is bad. This questioning will happen anyway

The value of a library book, even a controversial book, is that people have a public forum for evaluating and discussing its ideas and the way they are presented. Banning books denies people access to crucial information. It also cuts off the possibility of human interaction and discussion on whether and how it should be shared.

As university faculty in the leading professional education program for library and information science, we care about our students — as private individuals and as the professionals they will become. We care about our communities and their libraries.

The American Library Association’s new campaign, Show Up for Our Libraries, advocates rallying for political support and building awareness about the value of libraries.

It is critical for each person to show up at their local library and learn more about its services and collections. If you don’t like the books in a library, talk to your librarians about their collection development policy. If bans are happening in your community, show up at local board meetings and listen to the concerns that are shared from many sides and share your own.

Embrace your library as a site for the free exchange of ideas.