Books and Freedom

Well, here I am again, could you just lose it from the shock, or what? Don't let it lure you into a false sense of security; Liz will be visiting in about ten days and I'll be back to my terrible habits and getting great ideas but not getting around to doing anything about them.

Believe it or not, I am here again because I was reading some news stories again, and something got me a bit worked up. Now, you may think I'm highly opinionated, in which case I might have to use the ancient playground retort of, "I'm rubber and you're glue, anything you say bounces off me and sticks to you," or something like that, I never really used that retort. After some soul-searching, I think I can freely say that I don't have strong opinions about everything. Like corn. Corn is a vegetable that not only has many super-scientific uses, but numerous methods of preparation for eating. So maybe I don't like creamed corn but I do like lots of others, like snack chips and popcorn. On the other hand, we have something like canned spinach, which in the realm of The Lunatic is an evil thing which must be avoided at all cost, thereby making us ineligible for a lasting friendship with Popeye.

It was just one news article, my friends, which stirred me up in several ways on related subjects. The events in this story took place somewhere in the state of Texas. I can't remember where, because it didn't sink into my brain, and I really would rather not read the article again. The article was inspired by some mothers and their reactions to a specific book. Since I had never seen or even heard of the book before this evening, I will state that I am unqualified to comment on it because it would be akin to me discussing life on an oil rig, or what flying to Mars feels like.

Now that we have that cleared up, the gist of the news story. Mom gets a phone call from her friend, AnotherMom. AnotherMom is having a conniption over a book that happens to be available for checkout in the library of the High School both mothers' children attend. The book is a graphic novel by an LGBT+ author, and includes sex and gender identity issues. Both mothers jump into action to make sure that not only their children, but everyone else's, are protected from the book by banishing it forever from the School District's libraries.

The story goes on to cover the actions and beliefs of a local politician who is very much against dangerous things like kids knowing about topics like S-E-X, and LGBT+, and non-white people not getting the same treatment or protections that white folks do. The Lefties, these people all went on to say, are going after our kids. The politician and some of the mothers have formed groups with like-minded people, as is their right. These groups have names that include words like Freedom and Liberty. Their goals are to protect their freedom and liberty by making sure the Lefties are not allowed to force them or their kids to wear masks, learn about the history of race in the USA, or have access to any books that they don't want their kids to read.

This is where it all goes very wrong for me, when people profess their love for freedom and liberty by restricting the freedom or liberty of others. If you don't want your kids to read a certain book, tell the teachers and librarians that your child isn't allowed to read that particular thing. But don't tell other parents that they don't have the freedom to allow their child to read it. And if you don't want your child to know about things like racism, civil unrest, unfairness in the legal system, and the struggles of the LGBT+ community, then let your children know it. But don't tell other parents that they have no rights regarding what their kids will learn.

I'm certain that someone reading this might be saying something snide to me along the lines of me having no right to open my big, fat mouth because I have no children. Good for you, aren't you the clever one. May I remind you that I was a child in these United States of America, and was raised by people who held this county's values close to their hearts? Let's talk about that for a moment or two, shall we?

My parents and my siblings risked their lives to leave their native land and travel thousands of miles to a country where they could be free. They could read, think, or say what they wished without the risk of losing their lives or jobs or freedom. After the loss of my parents, I eventually came under the care of the woman I came to know as Gram. When I came to live with her, I was nine years old and she was sixty-two. Although she came from a far different generation (and had an incredible temper paired with a sharp tongue) here are some things about how she raised me. 

Gram never forced any political ideas upon me. She felt that it was my right to learn things and decide how I felt about them. When I was a skinny nine-year old girl walking to the local library, that heavenly place filled with books and words and ideas and the wonderful smell of paper, I was never told what books I could or could not read. I honestly don't think it ever occurred to Gram to censor my reading experiences in any way. This is undoubtedly related to her own upbringing. She was raised by a single father years before the phrase was ever invented, because her mother died in childbirth when she was twenty-two months old. Her father, who had vision problems due to an accident he experienced when working in a mill at the age of seven, would have her read books to him since he could only clearly see print the size of a newspaper headline. And any time the Catholic Church forbade its members to read a particular book, he would immediately buy it for her to read aloud. Bless him for that.

There were moments during my formative years that impressed me greatly. One of my favorites, which I've written about before, happened when I was in High School. My Social Studies teacher gave us an interesting assignment. We were told to go home and ask our parents if they would be willing to sign a document stating that if the government of our country no longer represented the wishes of its people, we had the right to overthrow it. I eagerly signed the document and felt sure that Gram would do so as well, which she did. When we had our next Social Studies class and the teacher asked about parents' reactions, there was quite an uproar. Kids were talking about how their parents were angry and said the teacher was a Communist or un-American. Who had signed it, and whose parents? I raised my hand with a smile on my face while people around me expressed their shock and disgust. When asked why I would sign such a thing, I told them it was simple. I would gladly put my signature on the Declaration of Independence, which was paraphrased in our assignment.

It wasn't until I was old enough to vote that Gram and I discussed political affiliations. She simply asked, after I registered to vote, if I had chosen to declare a party, and did I mind telling her what it was? I learned that the party affiliation I had chosen was the same as hers, but she never told me her party affiliation, not wanting to unduly influence my choice. And in case you're curious, I was raised by one of those lefties, and without even trying, she turned this kid into one as well. It must have been the books.

Postscript:  Incidentally, I don't think that the loose reins regarding reading caused me any harm whatsoever. I never felt the need to hide what I was reading, even though I read primarily from the adult sections of the library from around the age of ten. I'm pretty sure that if there was anything in those books that was over my head, it flew on by without doing any temporary or permanent damage. Also, all of this made me think about things like people not just banning, but burning books. It made me think of when Gram, her daughters, an adult granddaughter, and I all went to see the movie Victor/Victoria. Gram and I told each other later how much we enjoyed it, but Alice and Jackie deemed it filth and said we should throw rocks at the theater and then burn it down. Oy.

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