Books foster dialogue about tough topics by Diane Goldsmith
Westerly Sun August 17, 2023 I have loved books since I was a child. Books took me to places real and imagined, to times past and times that might come. I met people whose lives were unlike mine, who lived on farms or in China, or women who were inventors, enslaved, or solved mysteries. My elementary school library's rich collection of books was a doorway to the world. Books opened conversations with my parents. I clearly remember my mother, Canadian born of British parents, opposing the viewpoint of books slighting the role of England in WWII in which her brother, an RAF pilot, was killed before the US entered the war. Those discussions opened my eyes. There are many ways to understand the world, history, and people. I probably read books that were too old or inappropriate or addressed topics I didn't understand. But most of that just went over my head. And as I got older, I sought and found books that helped me understand who I was – a lesbian. Like most LGBTQ people, I came from a family with no LGBTQ experience. I had no one to ask for help. I don't mean sexual issues. I mean, how do I imagine my adult life? Where could I live and feel safe? Where would I meet other lesbians, and most challenging of all, how to tell my parents? Books helped me. I read about other lesbians and gay people. They helped me know I wasn't alone and could be who I was and live a happy life. And so, I have become increasingly alarmed by attacks on libraries, especially school libraries, and by parents who seek to limit access instead of offering to read and discuss a book together or suggest to their child that a book might not be appropriate. Trying to control their children's access, these parents seek to dictate the access of all children. They talk of "age appropriate" without considering that children of the same age have different reading skills, levels of maturity, and interests. They speak about "parental rights" but think only of parents who share their beliefs. They do not include the many parents who think differently – parents who are LGBTQ or have LGBTQ children; whose ancestors were enslaved; who fought for civil rights; who (or whose families) have dealt with addiction; who themselves are or are children of immigrants; who love books to introduce their children to different people and places; who want their children to have access to the very same books some parents challenge across the country. Concerned, I began to attend and speak at Westerly School Committee meetings. I felt quite alone. Although I had lived in Westerly for more than 25 years, I was not very involved with the community. I had worked at URI and spent my spare time with my wife, biking, walking my dog, seeing friends, and reading. I retired in 2021, had more time, and felt obligated to speak out. So, I was incredibly grateful when two women from the Westerly Anti-Racism Coalition thanked me for speaking against limiting access to books selected by school librarians or teachers. Thanks to them, I found a community of people engaged in conversation about social justice, equity, and excellence and the work we can do in Westerly. This national effort to ban books focuses on books with LGBTQ themes, the role of race in American history, and inclusive themes. Some argue that removing these books from schools and public libraries isn't "banning" since they are available in bookstores. Still, many children and teens need access to bookstores or the money to buy books. These people label LGBTQ books pornographic when sex is a tiny part of the book. Most teens see more explicit sex on TV and the internet – on their phones. The intent is to roll back the advances LGBTQ people have made over the last 40 years. These de facto banners argue that books about racism make white children "uncomfortable" or "feel guilty." They fail to understand the life experience of many Boomers like me. As a child, I saw overt racism on TV in real-time. I watched white men attack African American children with clubs, biting dogs, and fire hoses meant to save, not terrorize, children. I didn't feel guilty. I felt outraged and motivated to work for a society without racial violence. In reality, the attacks on books about the history of slavery and discrimination do not keep white children "safe" from uncomfortable feelings. They ensure that children won't become understanding, empathetic, and compassionate adults committed to ending these atrocities and racism. After intense debate and robust opposition from some in the community and on the Committee, the School Committee rebuffed attempts to ban books from our school libraries. Each member, even those who strongly disagreed, treated me courteously, engaging in respectful debate in person and by email. I am grateful. Like the open conversation weekly on the steps of the Post Office, books open the exchange of ideas schools should foster. Respectful, vigorous dialogue is the foundation of our democracy. Banning books is not. It promotes one point of view, stops debate, and limits promises of "liberty and justice for all." This column is written by members of the Westerly Anti-Racism Coalition, which embraces multiculturalism to address racism. Geoff Serra is a contributing editor. ARC meets on the steps of the Westerly Post Office each Sunday, 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. All are welcome. Learn more and subscribe to ARC's newsletter at westerlyarc.weebly.com. Contact them at [email protected]. Comments are closed.
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This website is a publication of the Westerly Anti-Racism Coalition. ARC is a community coalition unaffiliated with any state, national, or international organization. ARC embraces multiculturalism to address racism.
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