If history is our greatest teacher, Americans should pay close attention to the lessons learned from the McCarthy era. During that shameful period, books were banned, writers and educators were targeted and blacklisted, and literature from (and membership in) specific communities and organizations was suppressed. Eventually, the Second Red Scare came to an end. Yet some 70 years later, here we are again.
In 2024, book banning is surging—and perhaps more alarming, resisting censorship has become dangerous. Advocating for our First Amendment rights can lead to being labeled a pedophile, and many librarians have lost their jobs or quit under duress. It is no exaggeration to say that the future of our nation’s libraries hangs in the balance. I write this having seen this threat play out firsthand in my own community.
My hometown of Llano, Tex.—with a population about 3,000—has become an epicenter in the fight against book banning. A moral panic manufactured by a handful of citizens seeking the removal of a couple of children’s books has devolved into the censorship and unilateral removal of 17 books from our library shelves and calls to remove hundreds more, as well as the cancellation of access to our OverDrive e-books. Llano County’s commissioners even went so far as to dissolve our existing library board and appoint a new slate with members supportive of its book-banning efforts. Suzette Baker, head librarian of our Kingsland branch, was fired.
Along with a coalition of library-loving patrons, I fought back. We wrote letters, spoke at meetings, and made phone calls—all to no avail. With no other options, in April 2022 I joined with six other concerned citizens to file a lawsuit over the library’s actions. For me, this was a matter of principle. Censorship is wrong, and it must be opposed.
But this fight is also deeply personal. My family and I love our library. Years earlier, I had discovered Maurice Sendak’s book In the Night Kitchen on a banned books display, and it quickly became a family favorite. We checked it out often, and sometimes we’d pull it off the shelf at the library and read it on the floor. And then, in 2021, just like that, it was gone from the library shelf—censored because the book has illustrations of an unclothed little boy.
When I first read that book to my children, they would see these pictures and say, “Ha, look mom, he’s nekkid!” (That’s Texan for “naked,” natch.) Then we would turn the page, and life would go on. It should go without saying that this 1971 Caldecott Honor book is not harmful, and it is certainly not pornographic. And yet it was censored in response to a county judge’s order to pull “any and all books that depict any type of sexual activity or questionable nudity.”
My children are growing older every day and will soon have the autonomy to take principled moral positions of their own. How can I ever expect them to stand up and oppose wrongdoing if I don’t do the same?
Last March, a federal judge ordered several books returned to library shelves. A three-judge panel at the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals upheld this ruling in June of this year, but that decision was swiftly vacated, and we’ll be back in court for a hearing in front of the Fifth Circuit later this month in New Orleans.
Meanwhile, despite the judge’s order to return several of the banned books to the shelves and the catalog, my once-beloved public library is a shell of its former self. I wouldn’t wish on anyone what has happened in my hometown. My children’s former librarian now works as a barista at a local coffee shop, despite her dedication and love for public libraries, and the fact that, as she has said, our library saved her life when she was a teen. Suzette Baker should still be serving the community as a librarian. Instead, she is suing the county for wrongful termination and working as a cashier.
Through it all, I’ve learned some important lessons about this current wave of censorship.
For one, we cannot appease book banners in hopes that they will stop harassing librarians and teachers, or bombarding elected and appointed officials with lists of offensive books. They won’t. What began in Llano with demands to censor children’s books about farts and butts escalated to calls to remove hundreds of books from our school and public libraries, a moratorium on public library book purchases for nearly three years, and a narrowly averted threat to close our county libraries altogether.
Neither can we just ignore these book banners. Their movement is highly organized and well funded. They show up to meetings. They are engaged with our legislators. And they are not afraid to use fear tactics.
Nor can we work around them. Our library leaders went so far as to create a sort of secret in-house checkout system. For nearly three years, we have added no new books to our library’s catalog, but there have been new titles donated by well-meaning community members, which can be checked out only if one knows how to request them. What have county leaders taken away from this move? That they don’t need to pay for book purchases, or curate a collection, or follow the guiding principles of librarianship.
Our community today remains bitterly divided. Many people who support the freedom to read are afraid to speak up because they fear very real consequences. As I can attest, being outspoken on this topic invites malicious name-calling and ostracism. Advocating for the right to read here in rural Texas is difficult, as it is in many communities across the nation where libraries and the freedom to read are under a withering assault. That is why we must stand together.
To those who feel they can’t safely speak out: you have other options. You can donate to nonprofit organizations who fight censorship. If you don’t have a library card already, get one and use it. Check out banned books. Attend your local government, school, and library board meetings. Voice your support for the librarians and citizens in the community who are fighting for your right to read. And stay informed by reading and supporting journalists who cover these stories.
Most importantly, you must vote. For obvious reasons, elections hold the key to getting past this current wave of book bans. We must all commit to being informed voters. We must support candidates who will respect our constitutional rights. We should demand that our two major party platforms have stances on book banning, and we should all know which elected officials support pro-censorship or anti-library legislation.
The lawsuit brought by my fellow plaintiffs and me may very well create case law that will positively affect public libraries across America. But lawsuits alone can’t save the library in Llano—or any anywhere else—from death by a thousand cuts. Only community support can do that. This surge in book banning will end only when we collectively demonstrate that book banning will not win elections, cannot win in court, and that attacking librarians and educators is broadly unacceptable.
Thankfully, history is on our side. After years of resistance by librarians and authors and freedom-to-read advocates, the beginning of the end of McCarthyism was brought on suddenly, in dramatic fashion by Joseph Welch, chief counsel for the United States Army. In 1954, having grown weary of McCarthy’s personal attacks, Welch famously scolded the Wisconsin senator during a televised hearing: “Have you no sense of decency, sir, at long last? Have you left no sense of decency?” After years of fear, those remarks, at long last, helped to break the dam.
I believe a similar moment is coming. As tough as defending the freedom to read may be, I am prepared to weather this storm, because I know that if we allow fear to rob people of their voices, we risk losing our freedom. And 67 years after McCarthy’s death, his tattered reputation gives me faith that history will be equally unkind to the book banners following his lead today.
Leila Green Little is a rural mom and intellectual freedom advocate who has been fighting against censorship in her local public library system since 2021. She lives on a cattle ranch with her husband of 19 years and their two kids.
