Why Are We So Afraid of Books? The Dangerous Rise of Censorship in America

We’ve all seen it—books being pulled from shelves, school libraries shut down, and parents up in arms over content they deem “inappropriate.” But let’s pause for a second and ask ourselves: What are we really so afraid of?

Right now, there’s a movement sweeping across the U.S. that feels like we’ve stepped back in time. Book bans, which many of us thought were relics of the past, are zat an alarming rate. In 2023 alone, there were nearly 1,600 unique titles targeted for censorship. The American Library Association (ALA) reported a staggering 65% increase in challenges, with more than 4,200 books under fire. And here’s the disturbing part: nearly half of these books are focused on marginalized voices—stories centered on race, LGBTQIA+ experiences, and trauma.

In states like Florida, Texas, and Virginia, even classics like To Kill a Mockingbird, 1984, and The Diary of Anne Frank are getting banned. These are books that shaped entire generations, books that made us think critically, challenge our views, and confront uncomfortable truths. Now they’re being pulled from shelves because they make people feel uneasy. It’s baffling, honestly. Discomfort isn’t something to fear—if anything, it’s something we need. It pushes us, makes us grow, and forces us to have the tough conversations that are long overdue.

Take Florida, for example. Governor DeSantis has led the charge with laws that make it easier than ever to challenge books in public schools. His 2022 “Stop WOKE Act” basically aims to shut down discussions around race and gender identity, giving school boards sweeping powers to remove anything that doesn’t fit their agenda. Moms for Liberty, a group that claims to fight for “parental rights,” has been one of the most vocal in pushing for these bans. Their goal? To erase narratives that don’t align with their worldview, labeling them “pornographic” or “inappropriate.” The truth is, they’re not protecting kids—they’re controlling the narrative.

And the impact goes beyond just removing books. It’s creating a culture of fear. Teachers and librarians are preemptively pulling books from shelves because they’re scared of the backlash. School libraries in Florida, like those in Escambia County, have even had to temporarily close because they couldn’t keep up with the sheer volume of challenges. The self-censorship that’s happening right now is devastating to intellectual freedom. We’re not just talking about books being banned—we’re talking about opportunities being stolen from students to engage with diverse ideas and perspectives.

Let’s be clear: this isn’t about protecting children. It’s about shielding people from discomfort. Books like Gender Queer by Maia Kobabe or All Boys Aren’t Blue by George M. Johnson are being targeted simply for exploring queer identity. These aren’t “dangerous” stories. They’re stories about belonging, about seeing yourself reflected in the world. Removing them sends a harsh message: “Your story doesn’t matter here.”

And even the classics aren’t safe. Of Mice and Men and The Bluest Eye are frequently banned for their portrayals of racism, poverty, and violence. But these books aren’t glorifying those things—they’re showing us the reality of them. Literature isn’t supposed to make us comfortable all the time. It’s supposed to challenge us, make us think, and yes, make us uncomfortable. That’s where growth happens.

What’s even more alarming is how small the base driving these challenges really is. In Florida, just two people were responsible for over half the book complaints in the entire state. We’re letting a handful of individuals decide what thousands of students can and can’t read. That’s not democracy—that’s control.

So here’s the real question: Why are we so afraid of these stories? If we want kids to grow into empathetic, critical thinkers, we need to stop shielding them from the tough stuff. Banning books isn’t protecting anyone—it’s avoiding the real conversations that need to happen. If education is about fostering open-mindedness, then books—especially the ones that make us squirm—are essential.

We need to stop pretending that banning books is the answer. It’s not. It’s a way of retreating, of trying to avoid the uncomfortable parts of life. And here’s the thing: avoiding discomfort doesn’t solve anything. It just pushes the conversation further away, delaying the growth we need as a society. If we want a world that values empathy, inclusivity, and open-mindedness, we need to stop being afraid of the stories that make us uncomfortable and start engaging with them.