Ashley Hope Pérez has long been a voice for young readers—first as a teacher, then as an author, and now as an advocate in the fight against book bans. The Texas-born, Ohio-based literary scholar is known for YA novels that bring to light the stories often missing from shelves, including What Can’t Wait and The Knife and the Butterfly. But it was her 2015 novel, Out of Darkness, that thrust her into the center of the national debate on censorship, becoming the fourth most challenged book in the U.S. in 2021. Despite facing harassment and threats, Pérez used her experience to rally behind fellow authors whose works have been targeted, amplifying their message as the editor of Banned Together: Our Fight for Readers. This anthology brings together YA storytellers across various mediums—essays, poetry, and graphic comics, among others—to explore the nuances of censorship while offering young readers a deeper understanding of why books are disappearing from their libraries. Pérez spoke with PW about the rise of book bans, what this means for the future of YA literature, and how young readers can push back.
What brought you into the world of YA writing?
I didn’t consider writing for young adults until my high school students and I had many conversations in our school library about what they wanted to read. Back in the early 2000s, many of the things they hoped to find in books weren’t there. My students, who were mostly Latinx and African American, didn’t see characters whose experiences reflected their own. So, we wrote together in class, and I started translating their stories into the world of a novel. My goal was to finish a draft of a novel before they graduated, and I did. That was my first novel, What Can’t Wait.
What impact did this have on the way you write?
I still come back to what my students wanted, what felt authentic to them, and what mattered to them as readers. They wanted to feel respected and to see stories that reflected their realities. I believe that when people relentlessly try to strip books from school libraries, the question isn’t whether a kid reads this book or that book, but whether they’ll become a reader at all. Every young person who becomes a passionate reader has a transformative experience with a book that sparks a desire for more. When we limit the range of possibilities in libraries, we reduce the number of kids who become readers. Unfortunately, I don’t think those who are targeting books and libraries today are concerned with this.
Since 2021, we’ve seen a new wave of book bans where people aren’t necessarily reading the books themselves. They’re working from lists generated by others and targeting dozens, if not hundreds, of books at a time. Now, the concerns often don’t start with parents. They’re told to be worried about these issues. Even if their concerns are sincere, they didn’t originate from their child’s own reading journey. They were told that a book was problematic and that they should complain about it.
On a personal level, what did it feel like when you discovered your book was banned?
The first time an author experiences censorship or has their book targeted, there’s a kind of shock. Every writer for young people whom I’ve met is motivated by a desire for them to love literature, care about the world, and think about other people’s experiences with curiosity and compassion. It’s hard to understand what parent wouldn’t want that—except so much of this is rooted in targeting particular identities. Some parents want their kids to be compassionate about certain people but don’t want them to see others as equally lovable, human, and valid.
Out of Darkness was published 10 years ago. It sat in school libraries for more than half a decade without a single complaint. Then suddenly, it became a “controversial book,” a “banned book,” a “problematic book.” I wish it could go back to being a quiet book on the shelf. The hardest part is picturing all the empty spaces on bookshelves where books like mine should be. Those books could have been a gateway for a reader, but now they’re missing.
What was it like collaborating with other authors who can relate to your experience on Banned Together?
It was such an honor. The range of contributors and the passion they poured into expressing the costs and impact of censorship was staggering. As an editor, weaving their voices together was a privilege.
An unexpected part of the process was the emotional support involved. It’s painful to stay engaged with the reality of these attacks on our work. Some writers deeply care about this issue but just couldn’t bring themselves to write about it again. For those who did, they contributed from a place of care and commitment—to reach young readers with support, perspective, and resources. I deeply commend and appreciate them, not just for their literary work but for the emotional effort it took to craft their contributions.
What was your intention behind creating Banned Together?
A couple of years ago, I started working on this anthology, collaborating with other banned authors to craft pieces that help young people discover what’s missing from their libraries—or from the libraries of other young people across the country. How can we rebuild the bridges that have been destroyed by censorship? My hope is that even in libraries that have been gutted by censorship over the past several years, librarians can purchase this book. Even if they can’t put Out of Darkness back on the shelf, they can put a book on the shelf that simply shows people what’s happening and provides them with access to voices that have otherwise been removed from their library.
What did the process look like for curating the anthology?
We wanted to represent multiple dimensions of book banning: the different identities that are targeted, the creative practices being stripped away, and the diverse literary approaches that are becoming less visible in schools. I’ve always loved anthologies that blend genres and offer multiple entry points for readers. Some young readers are drawn to autobiographical pieces, others to poetry, and some might pick up a book just because they like the way a particular piece looks. My goal was to make sure that every teenager who picks up this book finds something that tells them: “This book is for you. There’s someone here who can speak to you.”
Do you think authors are more cautious in their storytelling because of book bans?
Absolutely. I struggle with it myself. I am incredibly determined—persistence is one of my defining traits—but every time I sit down to work on my next novel, I have to fight to push back against the anxiety of being banned. I try to hold space for imagination and focus on the story itself—what is it asking of me? What belongs in this narrative?—instead of worrying about what might trigger a reaction—because I can’t control that.
For writers who have already been banned, there’s an understanding that once you’re on these lists, you’re likely to be targeted again. So at some point, you just think, “I’m going to write what I’m going to write.” But the broader chilling effect on writers who hope to avoid being banned is very real. They start self-censoring.
I always tell writers: do not internalize censorship. If you, as a writer, hold back from representing an experience out of fear, remember that there’s a young person living that experience who already feels targeted. If they read a book where their reality is honored, they have a friend, a source of support—they are less alone. If we don’t write those books, we leave young people unsupported.
What role do young readers play in pushing back against censorship? What can they do?
First, read the books. Find the ones that have been banned and discover them as literature. Second, speak up. Young people are the most affected by book bans. If they keep showing up at school board meetings and speaking about what these books mean to them, adults can’t pretend they’re acting out of concern for students. Yes, some adults will still behave badly, but they won’t be able to hide behind the idea that they’re protecting young people when young people are standing in front of them, saying otherwise.
Banned Together: Our Fight for Readers’ Rights, edited by Ashley Hope Pérez, illus. by Debbie Fong. Holiday House, $19.99 Mar. 4 ISBN 978-0-823-45830-1
