University Libraries

By Rachel Barnett

The American Library Association's Banned Books Week is Sept. 22-28, 2019. Roesch Library has its own display of banned books on the second floor. This is Rachel Barnett's second Banned Books Week blog.

If you read my first banned books blog post (Reading Banned Books: ‘A Small but Mighty Act of Revolution’), you know that for my first time reading aloud for Banned Books Week, I intentionally selected inspirational text from Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. Although I was nervous at first, following my well-laid plan to read aloud from the pre-selected section made for a powerful but otherwise uneventful reading for those willing to lend their ears.

My second experience reading aloud in that makeshift jail cell was completely different … and here’s why.

I didn’t plan ahead and thought I would select a text at random for the hour I booked to read. I walked over to the cart and picked up The Complete Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway. I remember what I was thinking: “I’ve never read Hemingway, so this will be a great opportunity to do so. Plus, I might get to finish a whole story in the hour I have to read if I pick a short one.” I thumbed through the list and selected “One Trip Across” and began to read aloud.

Barely three pages in, I saw it. My heart sank in my chest as my eyes flitted across the page and saw what was to come.

The N-word.

I had to make a choice in that moment, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I am not in the habit of saying that word at all, much less in a public space and while others may be listening. But if I didn’t say it, I would be censoring the banned book I was reading from, which completely negates the purpose of reading aloud from a banned book in the first place.

So I said it — along with the more than 50 other racial slurs that regularly flew out of the characters’ mouths as they talked and described the world as they saw it.

I’ve done some acting before, so I tried to tell myself that I was just playing a role. I tried to give the characters voices to distract from the fact that these words were coming out of my mouth. I tried to tell myself that the first was the worst and that the discomfort would eventually dissolve with repetition. (Spoiler alert: It didn’t.)

Finally, my hour of reading (which felt like an eternity) was over. I slammed the book shut and headed straight to the book cart to return the book and sneak out of the library.

As I made my way to the book cart, the librarian on staff approached me and thanked me for what I did. I told her I really appreciated her saying that, but I wasn’t sure I had done anything worth appreciating. Then she pointed out a group of teenagers who had sat down near the jail cell where I was reading. She had been watching them, and said they were talking to each other about me as they listened intently to the story.

“And that’s why we do this,” she said — “to get people to pay attention and talk about why these books get banned.”

Obviously, her encouragement helped shake my fear that I had offended and disgusted everyone around me. In my heart, I had known all along she was right. My emotional reaction to reading those words aloud had everything to do with my fear of what others would think of me for reading them. As soon as I focused my thoughts on the reason I was reading, it became clear to me what I had to do.

Please do not misunderstand me here: I am not going to start running around saying offensive things, and I am not suggesting that you should, either. Banned Books Week reminds us of the need to apply a critical lens to all that we see and all that is done around us. Unfortunately, life is complicated, and the questions worth asking seldom have simple answers. We must interrogate every decision we make and strive to act in ways that achieve the outcomes we desire for the more beautiful world we envision for ourselves and others.

― Rachel Barnett is an access services specialist in the University Libraries.