CENSORSHIP, BOOK CHALLENGES, AND BANNING

CENSORSHIP, BOOK CHALLENGES, AND BANNING

Photo credit: J. Howeth

Unlike the story I shared in the previous installment about this subject, book banning isn’t usually driven by a single individual. Relying on “strength in numbers” book bans are typically driven by an organized group with a political or religious agenda. They often object to content, language, a depiction of violence, sexual subject matters, racism, or age unsuitability. Regardless of the reason, these groups are determined to push their belief systems to the forefront, imposing them upon us all. But that ALA article I referred you to reminds us that these actions are unconstitutional: “. . .  removing books from school library shelves based on the objections of a person or group, or due to prejudice against a group – book banning – is unconstitutional censorship that violates students’ First Amendment rights.”

So, what drives these attempts to remove books from our library shelves? 

Humans like to be in control, not only of themselves and people close to them, but in this instance, of people unrelated to them. I think when you strip away all the rationalizing an individual or group might apply to their motives, the drive to ban books is founded in fear; often deep and unconscious, I hypothesize it stems from a lack of feeling safe and a warped belief that “if I can’t understand it then I don’t what you to either.” 

I worked with a woman once who practically started quivering when I told her I was reading Dan Brown’s “The DaVinci Code.” I was trying to sell the story to her as an entertaining piece of fiction. But she was positively convinced that the book would be genuinely, physically harmful, as if the very pages were imbued with magic spores that would lodge themselves into her body if she dared open the book. It was absurd. She was a middle-aged woman, educated and intelligent.

And how many times have you met the individual who reacts to the Harry Potter stories this same way; the person who has been warned off the books because of an imagined evil that resides like dust between the pages to be breathed in; an attitude I find so ridiculously adjacent to being superstitious, I can’t keep the cynic in me from scoffing in a pretty unattractive, snorting sort-of-way. But I digress. . .

As I’ve researched this subject and have familiarized myself with the various titles that have been challenged and some successfully banned, I ask, “Why are we so afraid to let our children become critical thinkers? Isn’t this a gift parents can give their children?”

Reflecting on own youth, I don’t recall even once my parents telling me I couldn’t read a particular book. In fact, my mother frequently handed me books she thought I should read. Likewise, I’m convinced when it came to what my daughters were reading, tongue in cheek, I was either a terrible parent or a wonderful parent because I, too, never worried about it. I trusted their teachers to guide their education, judiciously selecting books for them. 

I wanted my daughters to read the classics, of course—the titles I read that made an impact on me—Old Yeller, The Red Pony, Charlotte’s Web, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Ox-bow Incident, The Diary of Anne Frank, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Call of the Wild, Flowers for Algernon, Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret.  I wanted them to read about this country’s legacy seen through the eyes of writers, the glimpses of history counterbalanced against its sometimes-romanticized depictions, and the social injustices that make up our heritage—slavery, prejudice, poverty. I wanted them to learn about the many worldwide examples of the ugly behavior and inexplicable cruelty humans are so remarkably capable of, the disregard for other species, and our planet.  I wanted them to read the tearjerkers, the ones that made them uneasy, the ones that made them ask “why.” I particularly wanted them to learn to be compassionate and have the opportunity to strengthen their empathy skills by reading the books that depicted lives beyond their own experiences, books rich in language, books about living in connection to other people. I wanted them to be challenged. And I wanted them to learn to think.

I also encouraged them to read the exciting new titles that were being published, some that were just plain fun and some that provided enlightenment about other people’s lives, as well as those that reflected the current events of their youths—Where the Red Fern Grows, The Giver, Blubber, Holes, The Rainbow Fish, Harry Potter, The Witches, A Bridge to Terabithia, The BFG, A Day No Pigs Would Die, The Cry of the Wolf, Because of Winn Dixie. 

I confess, I didn’t analyze it all that much at the time that I was making, or not making, these decisions; it stemmed from a deep conviction that I would never be able to impart to them much beyond my own limited life’s experience. I wanted to give them more; to provide them a broadened perspective and how could I do that without tapping into the larger world?

It was when I stumbled upon this observation by Dr. Sims Bishop, Professor Emerita at Ohio State University, that things started to make sense for what I was doing in spite my inability to identify it:

Books offer ‘mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors.’  A phrase that means “books can be reflections for young people to see themselves.” Dr. Bishop uses the analogy to support the importance of diversity in books and the authors who write them. “We need books in which children can see reflections of themselves, windows to learn about somebody else’s experiences, and a sliding door to walk a mile in somebody’s shoes, to get a sense of how somebody with a different lived experience may have navigated the world.” 

Kasey Meehan, program director of PEN America's Freedom to Read says, “By preventing those opportunities, there’s a real loss to learning and empathy and a real threat to democracy and a deeper understanding of the pluralistic world that we live in.”

For the parents who object to certain books being used in the classroom, Stanford Senior Lecturer, Jennifer Wolf talks about the difference between creating safe spaces and comfortable spaces in the learning environment.

She says, “We talk a lot in teacher preparation studies about teachers’ responsibility to create a safe space in the classroom. That’s different from a comfortable space. Learning involves growth, and growth involves stretching and changing. That’s not always comfortable, but it’s productive and necessary. I’ve read many of these books that are being challenged, and I can attest – they do push us outside of our comfort area.” 

Photo credit: J. Howeth

She continues, “Part of the way we use literature in our lives is to grow and stretch us – to teach us how to read life, how to understand character, how to decide who’s trustworthy, how to anticipate what will happen next and learn from what’s already happened. The things we do inside the plot of strong literature are things we want our young people to do outside the pages of the book. And there’s going to be some discomfort.”  

It is my conclusion then that censorship is driven by a shortsighted attempt to thwart independent thinking. The only thing achieved by keeping things from our children’s vision, by muting the messages, and by protecting sensibilities is uninspired lives. How can our children become critical thinkers if they’re not given the chance to exercise those brain cells? If we don’t afford them these experiences, how can they be expected to develop deeper emotions and become better human beings in consequence?