Book bans spreading at unprecedented rate across U.S. school libraries

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School librarian Martha Hickson hadn’t slept much the previous night. It was late on a Tuesday evening in May, and she gripped the chair in front of her and fixed a weary gaze on the row of a dozen school board members unsure how this latest battle would unfold.

For more than an hour, about 30 speakers had lined up at a podium in her New Jersey high school to speak to a complaint about the graphic novel Let’s Talk About It, which had been part of her library collection since it was published three years ago. Written for older teens, the book covers topics such as healthy relationships, gender, sexuality, anatomy, masturbation, safer sex and consent, and it includes some illustrations of nude bodies. The complainant wrote to the school district in February that the book contained sexually obscene material that could endanger young people and wanted it removed from the school’s library.

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Four police officers stood guard at the doors of the cafeteria at North Hunterdon High School in Annandale, N.J., as meetings about book bans have been known to become heated. Each speaker was given three minutes at the microphone, and almost immediately, the meeting grew tense. One attacked the content of the book as vulgar and unsuitable for teenagers. Another labelled the book obscene. A third called it pornographic.

Ms. Hickson’s supporters outnumbered the book challengers. They dressed in red, playing on the phrase that books should be read, not banned. One by one, they pleaded with board members to give students resources to make informed decisions about topics covered in the book. They asked the board to vote against censorship.

“I am proud that our library and our library books provide a safe, private space for students to independently seek answers to the questions that concern them. Please keep it that way,” Ms. Hickson said to vigorous applause from supporters.

“Don’t ban the book,” she and others emphasized.

Ms. Hickson, 64, has worked at her high school for almost two decades. Lately, she’s taken on a new role: an anti-censorship crusader. She’s among a group of librarians across the United States who’ve become vocal activists against book bans.

This marked her third fight in five years to protect her school library collection.

Book bans in public school libraries have spread at an unprecedented rate across the United States. PEN America, an organization that promotes free speech, recorded book bans in 42 states over the past 2½ academic years. In a recent report, the group found 4,349 books were banned across 23 states and 52 public school districts between July and December of last year. The report says more books were banned in those six months than in the 12 months of the 2022-23 school year, when 3,362 books were targeted.

Ms. Hickson has occasionally heard from parents who object to individual books. She’s managed most of their concerns simply by talking with them. What Ms. Hickson and many librarians currently face is an overwhelming tide of organized protests that is part of a broader political strategy from activist groups and conservative politicians to single out the books in their collections that have progressive messages about racial equality, gender identity and sexuality. Targeted titles include literary classics such as Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye and Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale. In one instance, a Florida school district was reviewing the Merriam-Webster dictionary so that it complied with a state law that prohibits books describing sexual content.

The fallout has been that school librarians, long considered heroes for supporting literacy, are now targets of online smear campaigns and threats. There have been efforts to press criminal charges against librarians for housing books deemed to be dangerous. Others have been fired for refusing to remove banned books from their shelves. In some instances, librarians are pre-emptively avoiding purchasing certain books to avoid attacks.

In many communities across the U.S., these book bans have become a front line in a divisive culture war. Experts and librarians worry that if Republicans take control of the presidency and in local and state jurisdictions, it will further embolden the book banners.

The current divisiveness around library books can be traced to a recent educational shift toward greater inclusion in public schools, and the addition to curriculums and libraries of books that reflect the realities and histories of racialized groups, religious minorities and LGBTQ people.

Florida and Texas have become the epicentres of book banning. Florida Governor Ron DeSantis has pushed through a series of bills, starting in 2022, that prohibit discussion of sexual orientation, gender identity and structural racism in schools. Similarly in Texas, the state board of education passed a policy last year prohibiting what it deems sexually explicit, pervasively vulgar or educationally unsuitable books in public schools. More books have been banned from school libraries in Texas than in any other state, according to PEN America.

Emily Knox, an associate professor at University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign and the author of Book Banning in 21st Century America, has watched book challenges at school libraries intensify after parents were given a window into what their children were being taught in online classrooms during the first waves of the pandemic. Some objected to discussions around race and gender, and library books became a target.

Prof. Knox explained that a book – particularly one containing material that speaks to differences and inclusion – instills a sense of fear in a segment of a population uncomfortable with change. The book challengers may profess their interest in protecting children, she said, but they are often much more concerned about structuring society in accordance with their own personal, political or religious values and beliefs.

“The books can become a focus, but it’s also not about books. If you look at the arguments that people make, they start by talking about the book, and then they quickly, very quickly, move into how society is just falling apart all around us,” said Prof. Knox, who is also chair of the board of the National Coalition Against Censorship.

She added: “I think these are people who need empathy. They don’t necessarily need power, but they definitely need empathy.”

It’s understandable that some parents may be uncomfortable with what their children are reading and learning. They didn’t grow up in a world where topics such as gender identity and sexual orientation were discussed in the classroom.

However, according to Jonathan Collins, an assistant Professor of Political Science and education at Columbia University, the current book ban movement is a co-ordinated effort by large conservative political groups that have been pushing for legislative changes.

Moms for Liberty, for example, was born in 2021 in response to pandemic measures in schools, such as mask and vaccine mandates. The group has ties to the Republican Party and now advocates against school curriculum that mentions LGBTQ rights and race, and campaigns to ban books on gender and sexuality.

Another group, Parents’ Rights in Education, says on its website that it rejects “any indoctrination of schoolchildren with extreme pedagogy.” The group also states that it supports “the proper role of K-12 academic education, focused on core skills, and preparing students for success. We reject controversial sexualization and racist doctrine.”

These types of groups, Prof. Collins explained, bring on board parents who see a mismatch between some of the language used in books and Christian values they cultivate in their homes. “They’re essentially putting the batteries in the backs of parents, who are then going to their school boards and pushing for certain books to be banned.”

It’s an issue that Prof. Collins sees gaining traction as the presidential election nears. Economic-related matters typically drive an election campaign, he said. However, unemployment in the U.S. is low. For a Republican challenger, running on the economy is not a successful strategy. “That,” he said, “opens the door for this sort of cultural state of the country to be one of the primary debates that takes centre stage.”

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Ms. Hickson’s library is an expansive space with neatly stacked shelves of books, comfortable chairs for students to lounge with their favourite novel, and desks and chairs for those who need to work on assignments. On her desk sits a nameplate that reads “Wonder Woman.”

Tucked in one corner is a giant poster showcasing her 2022 American Library Association award, which honours librarians who stand up in the face of adversity. She’s certainly done her share. Her library collection was among the first in the country to be challenged.

In January, 2019, she said that her superintendent tried to bypass policies and force her to remove Fun Home, a graphic novel memoir by Alison Bechdel about the complex relationship with her father and her coming out as a lesbian in a small town. Ms. Hickson was told the book was pornographic. She refused to comply, and what followed was an eight-month fight. She rallied parents and community members. The book stayed in her library.

Two years later, it happened again.

She had heard rumblings in September, 2021, that books in her library may be challenged by some in the community. Instead of tuning in at 7 p.m. to Jeopardy!, she and her husband put on a livestream of the board’s monthly meeting. Ms. Hickson watched in horror as a small but vocal group suggested that her book collection contained pornography and pedophilia – and one speaker even suggested Ms. Hickson was grooming children.

“My heart was beating out of my chest. I was sweating. I thought maybe I was having some sort of coronary event.”

She cried. Then, she fought.

Ms. Hickson pulled out her phone. She texted those who had taken on the Fun Home challenge two years earlier. She also contacted her union president, the American Library Association, the National Coalition Against Censorship, the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund and other organizations within her own New Jersey community. More than 400 people opposed to the ban turned up at the next meeting. The books stayed in her library.

Over this time, Ms. Hickson has collected more than 150 pages of screenshots from people calling her a groomer and a pornographer. She has endured online attacks for her physical appearance. In the days following the board meetings in the 2021-22 academic year, she noticed a series of vehicles idling for half an hour at a time outside her house, so she installed a security camera. Her school administration, she said, has remained silent. School principal Gregory Cottrell did not respond to a request for comment.

“They want a certain conservative cultural orthodoxy that matches a very narrow world view. And anything outside of those particular parameters is forbidden,” Ms. Hickson said of her detractors.

“And unfortunately, that’s not the way a library works. A library is open to the vastness of ideas, and it’s up to the reader to decide what they’re going to partake of.”

What is particularly heartening to librarians is that the fight against the book bans is gaining momentum. Publishers, authors and parents have filed lawsuits that challenge the restrictions on library books. In New Jersey, state lawmakers are attempting to set guidelines for challenging books and library materials to address campaigns to remove them. They are also looking to protect librarians from harassment. Ms. Hickson has participated in discussion, hoping to see change.

And when a book is up for debate at school board meetings, as was the case for Ms. Hickson, more supporters than book challengers usually fill the seats and raise their voices at the podium. More times than not, the book is not restricted.

Among them on that Tuesday evening in May was Lucy Harris, a Grade 9 student at North Hunterdon High School.

Lucy spends time at her school library almost every day; it’s a place she finds safe and comforting. Her mom, Lisa Intrabartola, shared how Lucy would love spending time at their public library in the town of Clinton, N.J., even before she could talk. These days, she begs her daughter to put her book away when it’s time for bed.

When Lucy addressed the school board meeting that night, with her mom looking on, she spoke about how the book, Let’s Talk About It, wasn’t pornographic, but a resource for students who need it.

“If this book is banned, it will create a chain of events leading to the loss of other optional-to-read educational books like it,” she said. “After that, what’s next? The entirety of sex education?”

Ms. Hickson and her supporters wouldn’t allow that to happen. In the weeks leading up to the meeting, a petition was circulated to save the book. People in the community e-mailed board members almost daily. And, most importantly, they showed up to the meeting.

Glen Farbanish, president of the North Hunterdon-Voorhees Regional High School District Board of Education, expressed a sense of fatigue about the continuing debate over the books students are allowed to access in the library. The hours, he said, could be better spent on more urgent discussions.

Shouldn’t policy-makers be putting more emphasis on falling reading and math scores? Are students prepared when they graduate high school? How are we helping students who are struggling with mental-health challenges?

“I’m getting to the point where I’m upset that we’re not talking about other things,” he told the meeting. His district represents two high schools – North Hunterdon High School in Annandale, N.J., and Voorhees High School in Glen Gardner, N.J. – and draws from 12 communities.

“We cannot keep burning energy like this, because we’re not doing our jobs.”

The onlookers were silent as the vote was being cast. Most of the book challengers had left by then. The motion to remove the book from Ms. Hickson’s library was defeated by a vote of 7 to 4.

In the moments that followed, Ms. Hickson pumped her fists in the air. “We did it,” she excitedly said to her husband.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she and others called out to the board as they left the room.

The book would stay in her library.

Outside the cafeteria, relief washed over Ms. Hickson. In some ways, however, it felt short-lived.

“I’m not convinced it’s over.”