Book banners will tell you they’re the good guys. They’ll claim that they remove books in kids’ best interests, that they’re sparing young minds from inappropriate content or offensive language, that they’re defending parents’ rights. Book banners will say they protect readers of all ages — society at large, really — by suppressing the spread of dangerous ideas.
But the truth is that book banners are cowards. They impose their insecurities and limited worldview on the public because they’re afraid. Of change. Social progress. Losing their unearned privilege and power. They cling to control by restricting our access to information: accurate historical accounts, diverse storytelling, critical awareness. Book banners know that free people read freely and that reading increases our humanity; the subsequent autonomy, curiosity and empathy scare them into obstructing our right to read.
We’ve recently witnessed this type of fear-fueled censorship in Harford County, among other places as book banners became more emboldened in 2025. This summer, the school board secretly banned Mike Curato’s (award-winning!) young adult graphic novel “Flamer” — allegedly for its profanity that teenagers already know and use, but actually because it depicts racist and homophobic bullying at a Boy Scout camp. Threatened by the concern and compassion “Flamer” might evoke in readers, the school board banned it from all public schools’ classrooms and libraries.
It’s the same story again and again: someone feigns enough outrage over a book they’ve never read that they get the book removed. It’s how, in the last few years, book bans have skyrocketed — across the country and, almost single-handedly thanks to Carroll County Public Schools in Maryland. Not because of increased incendiary content or growing support of censorship, but because book banners work hard to interfere with our right to read. Their views are unpopular and their numbers low; they’re just highly organized.
And very afraid.
Especially because, in states like Maryland, the resistance to censorship is robust. The state school board recently reversed Harford County’s covert ban, per legislation passed last year to minimize book banning. Courtesy of Anne Arundel County Public Schools, Maryland has our first book sanctuary. At the University of Maryland, the English Department hosts an annual Banned Books Madness.
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As a whole, Marylanders value our freedom of expression. Our right to read what, when, and where we please. We recognize, and agitate for, the vitality that books contribute to society. We report censorship when we see it. We pay attention to the data. We contact our representatives. We learn about the movement and its history. We listen to those speaking out against censorship, like activists Iris Mogul and George Takei, honorary co-chairs of Banned Book Week 2025.
This summer, I had the (unexpected and incredible) opportunity to talk to George Takei, whose own books have been banned. I asked him what we need to do to end censorship, and he told me about a time when “Star Trek” fans—“bless their hearts”—protested the removal of George’s book. They were loud, large in number, and they won.
As George said, book banners “yell and scream the loudest.” Since July 2021, they’ve had books like “Flamer” and “Dear Martin” and “A Court of Mist and Fury” and almost 23,000 others removed. Because of just a few voices, enough books to span the length of five football fields and then some, are banned. Forbidden, in cities and states across the country, from being on a bookshelf.
“But,” George said. “We can be just as loud. And just as shrill.”
Book banners will tell you they’re the good guys, but really, it’s those of us who welcome imagination, encourage diversity and expect accountability. It’s those of us who realize and resist the sinister outcomes of book bans.
We have the power to preserve our right to read (and write) without censorship. We can interrupt, end, reverse the momentum of America’s increasing number of book bans. We just need to stay ready.
“All Americans have a duty to speak up,” George said — and if we all do, if we’re just as loud and just as shrill, we can restore free speech. We can restore the information and stories they’re trying to steal from us. If we all spoke up, again and again and again, one day, the books will be back where they belong.
On the shelves.




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