“Censorship is the child of fear and the father of ignorance,” writes Laurie Halse Anderson in the Twentieth Anniversary Edition of “Speak.” Ironically, this is one of the books voted for suppression by Colorado’s Elizabeth School District. The only reason the district did not actually remove the book from shelves is that it was missing.
Since I wrote about this issue last month, two conservative law outfits have joined the district’s legal team in preparation for the December trial in federal district court. Ann Schimke has the details for Chalkbeat.
The Alliance Defending Freedom (ADF) and the Heritage Foundation each are providing legal help, Schimke notes. The former, Schimke reports, says its mission is “grounded in the historic Christian tradition.” The latter, she adds, stated in its Project 2025 document, “Children suffer the toxic normalization of transgenderism with drag queens and pornography invading their school libraries.”
ADF has been involved in several other Colorado cases. It defended Masterpiece Cakeshop and 303 Creative in cases involving a refusal to provide LGBTQ messaging. It also won a Supreme Court victory earlier this year in Chiles v. Salazar (see my write-up), in which Kaley Chiles argued for her right to provide talk therapy to minors from a perspective skeptical of gay and transgender identities.
Ironically, in the Chiles case, ADF argued that government may not establish its own orthodoxy. But the Elizabeth case is all about a governmental entity, the public school district, suppressing books for ideological reasons.
An Obvious Anti-LGBTQ Bias
In its July 21 media release on the topic, Heritage’s Justin Butterfield claimed that the books in question were suppressed because they are “sexually explicit.” But that is just not true of some of the books.
Unlike almost everyone involved in the suppression of these books, I am actually reading them. I am now halfway through the list. It’s taking me much longer than I anticipated, partly because some of the books are long, partly because I am taking detailed notes of each book and writing up review notes and discussion questions.
So I have grounds to confirm that whoever claims that the books “#Pride,” by Rebecca Felix (which I discussed last time); “You Should See Me in a Crown,” by Leah Johnson; “Melissa,” by Alex Gino; and “Redwood and Ponytail,” by K. A. Holt, are “sexually explicit” is a liar. I have read each of those books cover-to-cover. There is no sexually explicit content in any of them. Obviously Butterfield is offering a pretext for the books’ suppression, not a reason.
The case of “You Should See Me in a Crown” very clearly illustrates that the book’s suppression was about anti-LGBTQ animus, not about anything (else) objectionable or controversial in the book.
I absolutely loved this book. I read it solo to take notes; now my family is reading it aloud with our eleven-year-old, and we are all enjoying it immensely. There is nothing remotely inappropriate in the book for children—that is, unless you think that a same-sex romance is in itself inappropriate.
In many ways this is a strange book for religious conservatives to suppress, because the book promotes many values that conservatives claim to embrace. Johnson writes in the acknowledgements, “The first thank-you for this book, this life, always, is due to God, who has shown me an almost-unbelievable amount of grace and mercy over the past twenty-five years.” The protagonist of the book, Liz Lighty, is a hard-working and studious girl who takes AP classes, excels in band, and wants to be a medical doctor. The book promotes diligence, honesty, charity, community, and strong family bonds.
Obviously the only reason this book was suppressed is that Liz develops romantic feelings for another girl in school, Amanda “Mack” McCarthy. There is no sex. The girls kiss; that’s it. If the book had told the same story but with two straight characters, it certainly would not have raised conservatives’ ire.
Yes, there is an “F-bomb” in the book, and it mentions “intersectionality”—hardly enough by themselves to draw attention.
We don’t have to infer. The people who complained about the book did so specifically because it features gay characters. According to legal documents posted by the ACLU, the main organization defending the books in court, one parent complained about the book’s “CRT undertones and homosexual storyline.” Another complained about a “DEI Pride flag” and the “Lesbian romance mentioned.” Another complained about the book’s “queer factor.”
And it wasn’t just some parents. Heather Booth, then a board member, said of “#Pride” and “You Should See Me in a Crown,” “LGBTQ is only regarding sexual preference which doesn’t belong in any school.” Board president Rhonda Olsen said a book with “gender identity ideology” should not “be out there at all.” (“You Should See Me in a Crown” references transgender issues in passing; Melissa involves a transgender character.)
Notably, Board Secretary Mary Powell conceded, “there isn’t anything graphic other than discussing a kiss that I saw.” She also correctly observed that “#Pride” “is largely a history of LGBTQ.” Powell also said, “I thought the story was overall a good one of empowerment for Black students—this is a very successful girl.” I agree, except it is a story of empowerment generally, not just for Black students. However, Powell changed her vote to “remove” to appease other board members.
At one point in the story, which involves Liz competing for prom queen in order to win a scholarship, one of the students complains that Liz might be unfairly advantaged due to “affirmative action.” This clearly is a case of the student trying to get under Liz’s skin to sabotage her efforts. Mack (who happens to be white) comes to the rescue by pointing out that white women are more likely to benefit from affirmative action. The point in the story is not to debate affirmative action but to show a girl mocking Liz over race and then show Liz’s new friend publicly defending her.
When Liz asks Mack why she defended her, Mack says, “I never let terrible people get away with doing terrible things. And . . . if something is wrong, I say something about it. Always.” Good advice. Mack’s moral courage is one of the reasons I love this book, and I can only hope that my son learns from her example.
The book’s suppressors will claim that they are living up to Mack’s advice by speaking out against the book. But there is a difference, obviously, between speaking out for a just cause, as Mack does, and demonizing others to promote petty bigotries, as the book’s suppressors did.
I also very much enjoyed “Redwood and Ponytail,” which apparently the board removed temporarily, also about a charming relationship between two girls. This is another lovely book, written in free verse, which my family will read together.
My family also read “Melissa” together and enjoyed it very much. It’s about a transgender girl who wants to play the lead role in the school play of “Charlotte’s Web.” I concede that this book has more controversial elements, in that it explicitly, although briefly, discusses the future possibility of transgender hormones and surgeries. I can see the merits of keeping parents in the loop on this one; I do not see the sense in pulling the book from shelves.
Certainly I am not claiming that all the books on the list are as tame as “You Should See Me In a Crown” and “Redwood and Ponytail.” Although I very much appreciated “The Hate U Give,” “Thirteen Reasons Why,” “The Bluest Eye,” “The Perks of Being a Wallflower,” and “Looking for Alaska,” those books contain some very tough subject matter concerning (depending on the book) suicide, sex, sexual assault, and violence. Again, I see cause for keeping parents in the loop regarding what their own children read; I do not see cause to outright remove the books from shelves. Although I will allow my son to read any book he likes, I’m not going to read these books aloud with him or strongly encourage him to read them all. (However, we did as a family watch the film of “The Hate U Give.”)
On Sexually Explicit Books
Contrary to what some conservatives might claim, sexually explicit does not mean pornographic. Indeed, it is impossible to have sex education without some sexually explicit material. Many works of fiction contain sexually explicit scenes to advance the story and say something about the human condition. Ayn Rand’s novels describe sex, for example. The Bible has some sexually explicit scenes. The “Odyssey” has some sex scenes, not to mention extreme amounts of graphic violence. Interestingly, one writer for the Heritage Foundation nevertheless describes the “Odyssey” as a “literary masterpiece” about “a human condition that is … common to all humanity.” I want my son to read that work too (and indeed he’s read selections).
My position is that we need to teach our children about sex and about its physiological and emotional ramifications. Sex is a big deal, and we are fools if we leave our children to pick up information about sex on their own, entirely through their peers, or through unvetted online sources. Ironically, conservatives who falsely accuse literary authors of producing “pornography” and try to suppress those books increase the likelihood that children will turn instead to actual porn to learn about sex.
Laurie Halse Anderson’s “Speak” is an astonishingly good novel. It is also extremely hard to read. It is about a girl who was raped during the summer before she started high school and about her slow recovery from that trauma. The book does not describe the rape in graphic detail. Rather, the girl remembers the event with the devastating line, “He hurts me hurts me hurts me.”
Anyone who suppresses this book or attempts to do so, on grounds that it is “sexually explicit,” is a fool.
This book is about helping people recognize the horror of rape, and so it is a vehicle to help prevent rape. If you hate rape, as you should, then you should love this book and encourage everyone to read it (in an age-appropriate context). I now consider this book a mandatory part of my son’s education, and we have already spent several hours discussing its supplementary content.
I very much agree with Anderson (leaving aside quibbles over the precise meaning of “censorship”), who (in the fuller quote) writes in an afterword:
We have a generation that has been exposed to unprecedented amounts of sexual behavior in the media and on the Internet. They see it, they talk about it, their hormones react, and a lot of kids wind up in painful situations.
Literature is the safe and traditional vehicle through which we learn about the world and pass on values from one generation to the next. Books save lives. …
America’s teens are desperate for responsible, trustworthy adults to create situations in which they can discuss the issues that are of the highest concern for them. Reading and discussing books is one of the most effective ways to get teens to think through and learn about the challenges of adolescence.
Most of the censorship I see is fear-driven. I respect that. The world is a very scary place. … It is human nature to nurture and protect children as they grow into adulthood. But censoring books that deal with difficult, adolescent issues does not protect anybody. Quite the opposite. It leaves kids in darkness and makes them vulnerable.
Censorship is the child of fear and the father of ignorance. Our children cannot afford to have the truth of the world withheld from them. They need us to be brave enough to give them great books so they can learn how to grow up into the men and women we want them to be.
Amen, amen, amen.
This is Part Two of a multi-part series on the books suppressed by Elizabeth School District. Read Part One here.
