The notion of banning books in the classroom may sound odd at first, seemingly contradictory to the progressive nature of education. Nonetheless, education in the 21st century is a dominant institutional structure that maintains censorship practices, both of which demonstrate the relationship between knowledge and power. In 2023, censorship is still targeting minority groups like the LGBTQ+ community, such as with the state of Florida’s ‘Don’t Say Gay’ bill which forbids instruction on sexual orientation and gender identity in kindergarten through third grade. Similarly, a bill was introduced in Oklahoma’s State Senate that “would prohibit public school libraries from keeping books on hand that focus on sexual activity, sexual identity or gender identity” (Harris). Although the communities impacted are in the name of these policies, the impact they have on the classroom as a whole should be studied. Not only are instructors struggling to broach restricted topics and material, but there is a concern of ideological conformity (Hartocollis) that students and instructors alike must navigate. 

Examining the politicization of book banning and literacy education is the underlying purpose of this paper. By taking a case-study approach, this paper will examine different instances of book banning, identify their conflict and stakeholders, and apply the cases to larger frames of thought connected to praxis. The texts included in this paper have all been challenged in some way, meaning that restrictions have been placed on them though they may not be banned from the classroom. In her book Book Banning in the 21st Century, Emily Knox specifies how “Challenges do not always lead to banning, that is, the removal of materials, or to a change in status such as restriction or relocation of the materials from library shelves (19).” Some challenges do, however, result in books being banned from the whole curriculum. In January of 2023, Florida’s Governor Ron DeSantis announced that he would ban the draft version of the College Board’s curriculum for its new African American studies course. Now modified with major changes, the public discourse is centered around the question of ideological conformity and the negation of history. Contemporary topics are being restricted in large quantities here, but thousands of other materials go censored without much uproar. Similar to the Governor’s actions with the A.P. course, Knox also writes that “Challengers to books in curriculum also take the private act of choosing what their children will read by requesting an alternative for their own children and make it a public one by attempting to dictate what all other children will read” (19). Contrary to their own ambitions, these students are maneuvered into a conflict between intellectual freedom and ideological coercion. Paulo Freire, a Brazilian educator and philosopher, writes in his book Literacy: Reading the Word and the World that “Literacy must be seen as a medium that constitutes and affirms the historical and existential moments of lived experience that produce a subordinate or a lived culture” (98). He also reflects upon literacy as “a vehicle by which the oppressed are equipped with the necessary tools to reappropriate their history, culture, and language practices” (109). As such, classroom texts are significant in supporting, affirming, or creating absence with students’ lived and existential experiences. By examining and synthesizing challenged book cases, this paper will demonstrate a specific and often undermined relationship between knowledge and power. It will also explore ways of responding to censorship to create better approaches toward protecting learners’ experiences and intellectual freedom. 

The books in this paper were not selected specifically for contextual, thematic, or literary similarities. In spite of this, they do share many commonalities and issues of overlap.  I did, however, choose books that have been contested on multiple occasions, ones that struck lasting debates in order to examine how texts can serve as models for issues that persist and evolve over time. These books also hold considerable significance to the curriculum and popular culture.

The first case is the fiction book The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie, a Spokane-Coeur D’Alene-Native American novelist. Published in 2007 and subsequently included in high school English classes across the states, the book draws from Alexie’s own upbringing on the Spokane Indian Reservation. Prominent themes include the relationship between poverty and privilege, and the text is notable for its critique of racism. One of the initial challenges was by a parent in Westfield, New Jersey, and there were others in Montana and Missouri around 2010. Also recorded by Knox, Part-Time Indian was mostly protested in an ambiguous manner for its “objectionable material.” Public speakers in Stockton, Missouri, consisting of parents and community members, associated the text with concerns over society’s moral decline. Despite various challenges, the book is still retained by many schools. In a New York Times article about book bans, a student from Pennsylvania’s City Charter High School submitted that she thinks “books like “The Hate U Give” by Angie Thomas and “The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian” by Sherman Alexie should be talked about in schools. They help educate on racism and discrimination. And it seems to me that the parents and politicians who voted for these books to be banned don’t want their children to be educated on these subjects.” Most of the information available about this case highlights the authority that parents have. Though their involvement is commonly regarded as noisy or overly involved, their influence should not be undermined, especially as collaboration and open dialogue with family and community is a critical component of praxis. In regards to critical dialogue, Professor Caidero-Kaplan creates a literacy web, identifying parent involvement as formative to students’ literacy and language development, and a major theme in “areas that influence and impact the teaching of literacy in schools” (4). It is important to acknowledge parents and value their roles as active citizens, but as Knox identifies, “censorship not as a single action but an amalgamation of practices and behaviors that operate within a particular institutional context” (11). As such, individual censorship is commonly aligned and facilitated by the interests of larger structures, enabling state-sponsored and institutional censorship to function on a smaller scale. 

The second case looks at I Know Why the Caged Birds Sing by Maya Angelou. Angelou is renowned for her poetry and civil rights activism, her work inspiring African-American literature as a whole. Caged Birds is a 1969 autobiography considered a milestone piece in Black women’s writing, depicting Angelou’s childhood and adolescence in the segregated American south. In her book, she investigates the effects of segregation and racism on black identity and consciousness. She also discusses sexuality and sexual violence. Having been challenged many times across the country, each institution has had a different response. For example, in 1998, a principal in Florida decided to follow the recommendation of a parent-teacher committee and ban the text from the school’s classrooms and library. Though reactions vary, one of the most repeated arguments is that the text is “anti-white” and its discussion of rape and sexual violence is unsuitable for students. In his reference guide to book censorship, Herbert N. Foerstel writes that on one hand “Complaining white parents said the book was “trash” and “anti-white,” leading black parents to characterize the book banning as racially motivated” (63). This led members of the ACLU and activists to treat the ban as a larger attack on the African American community, making efforts to reinstate the book in curriculum. On the other hand, “Commission President Barbara Thompson insisted that the commission’s objections to the book were not racially motivated, but were based on concerns about sexually explicit language” (63). Nonetheless, Caged Birds has been praised for its powerful language and messages of survival and hope, making it a required reading for honors English classes and advanced placement seniors. It paints a very vivid picture of the country’s history that continues to resonate with many students. As Knox writes, “individuals work within both institutionalized structures imposed by librarians and other administrators in public institutions as well as the structures of their own personal worldviews to craft a justification for censorship” (14). In thinking about literacy through the biopsychosocial model (Herrera, Chapter 2), readings should only be censored to a certain extent. I believe that material can be graphic for the purpose of fueling sensation, but texts that affirm and teach about historical and social realities are necessary to study in the classroom where students must identify with the material they are learning. 

Another case is Always Running, La Vida Loca: Gang Days in LA, a 1993 autobiographical book by Chicano author Luis J. Rodriguez. Similar to the texts mentioned above, Always Running depicts poverty and violence as Rodriguez narrates his early life as part of a street gang in LA’s eastern suburbs. Sensitive topics include shootings, drugs, murder, and suicide. In July of 1998, around the same time that Caged Birds was being banned, Always Running became controversial in a number of San Francisco Bay area school districts (Foerstel). Similar to opposition towards Angelou’s work, graphic language and sexual material were reasons for banning. Foerstel states that “a group called the Parental Rights Organization opposed the book, claiming that it is pornographic” (240). As Ramon Martinez writes in his article exploring the role of profanity, explicit language and content speak to multicultural and multilingual experiences that are often discredited in schools. When handled with awareness and understanding, these texts can be helpful in grounding lived experiences and contexts in class. 

The last work is the Harry Potter series by British author J.K. Rowling. Considering that the series is deeply ingrained in global culture and has inspired initiatives such as the Harry Potter Alliance mentioned by Henry Jenkins, it may be surprising that it lands as one of the most widely banned books. Author Judy Blume, who has dealt with her own publications being banned, has commented in the New York Times that “According to certain adults these stories teach witchcraft, sorcery, and satanism.” She then concludes that “the real danger is not in the books, but in laughing off those who would ban them.” Although Harry Potter is far from the realities depicted in the aforementioned, this danger that Blume identifies is an element all publications share. Justifications for censorship can be anything, but it is how we respond and react to policies that is most important. 

As explored in this paper, individual ideology and instructional practice are often at odds. Book banning is a form of silencing select voices and communities, but silence should not be absolute nor persistent. In thinking about praxis, students and educators should question the ideological construction of our consciousness in order to respond to the educational and political results of such construction. In the case of book banning, but also other practices of censorship, it may be beneficial to facilitate more open conversations between schools and communities instead of conducting committee meetings or board discussions behind closed doors. Students should also have an opportunity to intervene and instructors aided in navigating and distributing material. In spite of these issues and the politicization of schools, education should always aim to create safe and open learning environments.