May 23, 1955, was a bad day to be found with a dirty magazine in Rochester.
The national “comics czar,” Charles F. Murphy, was in town to speak to the Chamber of Commerce and various self-appointed “clean-literature leaders.” Mayor Samuel Dicker had formally declared it Decent Literature Day in Rochester.
Working with publishers, legislators and law enforcement, Murphy had promulgated a national Comics Code Authority: no crime, no sex, no horror, no letting the bad guy win. Much of it was incorporated into a 1955 New York law making it a misdemeanor to distribute noncompliant literature to children.
“The code (requires), for instance, that good triumph over evil, and that respect for honorable behavior be fostered,” Murphy said. “There must be sound values throughout, with the reader’s sympathy always for the good character and the just cause.”
Of course, identifying “the just cause” is never a simple matter—not in 1955 during the age of McCarthyism and not today. As educators, we are always careful to avoid telling young people what they ought to think. Instead, we see ourselves as facilitators and discussion partners, seeking to open the way to deeper insight.
This requires, among other things, a careful balancing of different perspectives. Without access to a wide range of sources it is impossible to determine the truth and where one stands in relation to it.
When some of those sources are officially banned, then, the consequences are dire.
The prevalence and aggressiveness of book bans has been increasing at an alarming scope over the past five years. Data collected by PEN America for the 2023-24 school year demonstrate a well-organized and alarmingly successful movement to restrict children’s access to diverse literature.
■ PEN recorded about 10,000 documented book bans.
■ About 2,500 unique titles were targeted. By comparison, the annual average of targeted unique titles from 2001 to 2020 was 273.
■ Nearly three out of four challenges originated from organized censorship groups such as Moms for Liberty.
Several states with conservative legislatures have passed far-reaching censorship laws that criminalize teaching diverse literature. Indeed, PEN America has drawn parallels between the current wave of book bans and the censorship of comics in the 1950s.
Calls for censorship in local districts typically have failed. For this we give credit to courageous school administrators, librarians and school board members, as well as policies already in place through the statewide Culturally Responsive-Sustaining Education Framework.
Our greater fear is of “soft censorship,” where teachers quietly decide against assigning books they fear will get them in trouble. This effect is impossible to measure but—at least in New York—probably a greater threat to students’ access to literature.
And why is that access so important? There are, after all, countless well-written and entertaining books that can be taught.
The first answer lies in the nature of the controversy. It is no coincidence that PEN found the majority of books challenged featured people of color (44 percent), particularly Black people, or LGBTQ+ community members (39 percent).
These are books that often provide inspiration and connection to non-white and LGBTQ+ children, who for most of American history have found themselves little represented in children’s literature. And, indeed, they can do the same for white and heterosexual children, who otherwise risk what James Baldwin calls the “stupendous delusion” of growing up without an understanding of anything outside their own narrow existence.
The push to ban books with LGBTQ+ and/or Black characters in our schools is part of a broader political agenda to claw back the acceptance and respect that people in these communities have earned through tireless activism. Those gains, and that activism, are a critical part of our collective history. To try and erase them is shameful.
At their heart, book bans have to do with who belongs and who gets to see themselves represented and reflected. Those who would ban diverse literature are seeking to redraw the lines of community, with large swathes of people on the outside.
We discussed many of these points at a panel discussion last week at St. John Fisher University in front of more than 125 people. Raising public awareness in this way is an important step, but there are other things as well that ordinary citizens can do to ensure that young readers in their communities do not fall prey to repressive tactics.
First and most important: Go (with a friend) and tell your local school board members where you stand. Advocate for proactive equity-based review policies for challenged books. The organization Unite Against Book Bans has a toolkit to help you get started.
Second: Learn about legislative efforts to enshrine protections against book bans, including the Freedom to Read Act pending in the state Legislature. This is a well-intentioned piece of legislation that needs improvement and adoption, in that order. Learn more about it from the New York State English Council.
Third: Read a book that other people think is worth banning. If you have children, find one you’re comfortable sharing with them, and have a conversation about it once you’ve finished. Shane recently enjoyed “Pride Puppy” with his daughter. Cody recently loved the graphic novel “Flamer” by Mike Curato.
Learning, reflecting, taking action: These are the very foundations of democratic government. Book bans and other attempts to restrict access to knowledge serve to keep people isolated, uninformed, and susceptible to authoritarianism. Let’s instead fight together for the academic freedom that our children deserve.
Shane Wiegand is co-director of Our Local History, a Rochester-based non-profit dedicated to empowering students, teachers and communities to engage with their local history of civil rights. He is the co-author of Constance Mitchell Stands Up.
Dr. Henry “Cody” Miller is an associate professor at SUNY Brockport and a recipient of the National Council of Teachers of English’s Intellectual Freedom Award. He taught high school English in Florida for seven years before moving to Rochester.
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