I didn’t want to go.
I left my upper-middle class, safe, clean neighborhood and walked under a highway through a pedestrian tunnel reeking of urine. When I emerged, it felt like I was in a different country, let alone a different city. I walked past my neighbors living in cars, tents and cardboard boxes to serve lunch at a shelter for people without a home.
I didn’t want to go.
I sat in a circle of metal folding chairs and listened to transgender people tell heartbreaking stories of misunderstanding, abuse and abandonment, often by their own families. In a small group, I sat beside a transgender teen as she tearfully told how her mother’s love and acceptance saved her from taking her own life.
I didn’t want to go.
I slipped into the back row of a humanist society to hear a lecture by an atheist on finding meaning without God. During the Q&A, I very nervously shared that I was a music pastor who had come to learn and was met with unqualified kindness.
In each situation, I started off extremely uncomfortable. Why? Because I was out of my element. Away from the familiar. Exposed to people, ideas, experiences and perspectives that were radically different from my own. Yet each of those encounters were huge growth steps for me, expanding and deepening the way I saw myself, others and the world.
Book banning is nothing new. People have long objected to certain themes, situations, people or perspectives being represented in print and available to readers. Especially young readers. But it has taken on new fervor of late, becoming more and more common across my home country of the United States.
As a parent of formerly young kids, I understand the goals—to protect kids from harmful influences, to help them adopt our version of truth and guide them toward our perception of healthy choices. But here’s an important perspective that adults pursuing these goals might consider:
Book banning does none of those things.
The world is full of a wide variety of influences, claims to truth and life choices. Preventing children from reading about ideas that are different, scary, upsetting or challenging only leaves them unprepared to inevitably face them. It’s sending them into battle without weapons or training.
To be clear, here’s what I’m NOT saying:
1. “All books are good for all kids at any age.” Kids mature emotionally and intellectually at different rates. That is an important factor in what books they are exposed to and when.
2. “The state knows best what your kids should read.” In most healthy family situations, no one knows a child better than their parent(s). Thoughtful parents, in open communication with both their child and their child’s teacher / librarian / bookseller, have the final say on what books they feel are best for their kids.
3. “All subject matter is appropriate for classrooms and libraries.” I believe books that promote hatred and violence against yourself or others are not suitable for the school setting. But those are not the themes of the majority of books being challenged. Most are about racial history, sexual orientation and gender identity. I’ve read some of them. Some are even written by friends of mine, whose beautiful, powerful writing is desperately needed by young people facing those issues.
Here’s what I AM saying:
1. Kids are usually good at putting down a book they aren’t ready for. They’re smarter than we think.
2. While parents have the right to choose what their own kids read, they don’t have the right to choose what other kids read. In essence, that’s what people who support this type of book banning are saying—“We know what’s best for your kids.” They are using the same argument they claim to be fighting against when they apply it to teachers and librarians.
One reason I’ve heard for banning certain books is that reading them makes kids uncomfortable. I’d suggest a different perspective:
Making kids uncomfortable is often the point.
I was uncomfortable in each of the situations I outlined above. But that’s why I learned. That’s how I grew. Locking kids in an echo chamber where they’re only exposed to people, ideas, perspectives and beliefs that they’re already comfortable with is not a recipe for developing mature, compassionate, well-rounded people. As adults, isn’t our primary responsibility to kids not ultimately to protect them from life, but to prepare them for it? That’s what “uncomfortable books” can do.
Books hold up mirrors that help us see ourselves more clearly. They create windows allowing us to see into the lives of others. My feelings, beliefs and convictions changed when I fed a poor man, hugged a trans teen and listened to atheists. Books can do the same thing from the comfort of our living rooms and classrooms.
So how about you? Will you allow yourself to be uncomfortable? Go to different kinds of places. Talk to different kinds of people. Read different kinds of books. Discuss what you learn with your kids. Help them take the same steps. Allow, even encourage, others to have those growth opportunities. If you do, you’ll help create a more understanding, compassionate and mature world, and you’ll take another step toward Becoming Yourself.
This post was originally published March 12, 2022.
