This morning as I savor my homemade granola and divine Arkansas peaches on the patio, I am gifted by the presence of a very pregnant doe, reclining in the verdant grass this side of the dry creek. She favors the green persimmons already dropping, a sign the dog days of August are on us.
We see the deer often as they wander at will through the neighborhood, but seldom spot them at rest; it is a blessing as I commune with my Maker to find her there. She is counterpoint to a fierce hawk high in the hollow snag to my left, composed but never at rest, his eyes scouring the landscape for scurrying squirrels.
We have made our home here for more than 50 years, raising three kids, celebrating the gift of five grandkids, running a business, teaching school, as the neighborhood crowded in around us. So many changes. Mr. Wonderful has gray hair; he doesn't climb ladders anymore. I am thrilled to be chauffeured by grandkids; I no longer do committees. Our dear friends, too, are getting old. Changes are afoot.
Nature is my solace, especially when the news of the day leaves me angry, anxious, bereft. So many crises, so much cruelty, such hypocrisy, so many strident voices determined to drown out words of moderation and restraint. Changes are afoot. Only the wisest and bravest of persons manage to find equilibrium between courageous acts of speaking truth based on fact while giving consideration to the humans (even if not the ideas) of another viewpoint. I must confess I am often not among them.
In solidarity with our local librarians, my Wednesday book club determined to read a banned book for July, and so we just finished reading and discussing Toni Morrison's "The Bluest Eye." In the past 50 years this book has seldom been off the list of top 10 banned books in the United States. It is of little use to challenge adversaries of Morrison's work with facts such as Morrison's high stature in the field of publishing. A Nobel Prize and a Pulitzer apparently have little influence with them.
It is of little use to claim that the scenes of incest, of rape, of child molestation in these pages are by definition not pornography, which is most often defined as explicit subject matter considered sexually arousing, prurient. "The Bluest Eye" is the very opposite of sexually arousing. The reader experiences nothing but horror. There are indeed monsters here, but once identified, they are pitied, not vilified.
In keeping with all excellent literature, Morrison's story enables us to understand all the characters, both victims and monsters, better. Indeed, it calls on us to understand ourselves better and to recognize the monster in our own selves as well. That is the real reason the book is banned.
The monstrous reveal in this book is the lack of compassion in our society for the victims of poverty and discrimination. The scenes of small children being turned away from a swimming pool because of their color, of a child longing for a Black doll, and of a Black boy being beaten by a white gang are indictments of white privilege and racial discrimination--the monster we do not willingly choose to see.
Anyone who has followed the history of book banning in this country cannot fail to draw a bright line between the far-right political and religious agitators for censorship and the specter of fascism in its relentless attack on democracy.
We cannot be swayed by the argument made by these book police that this is not "banning" but simply protecting children by determining age appropriateness and access for the materials. Almost every state has certain criteria in place for determining age appropriateness, usually deferring to school district boards, as well they should. But that determination in the past has been largely the responsibility of educators themselves, schooled in pedagogy and in curriculum development, working alongside a diverse group of knowledgeable parent and community representatives.
Their task is to select resources consistently engaging students in more advanced competencies in subject matter content at each grade level. Those competencies are spelled out in detailed Department of Education curriculum frameworks meant to provide an overall plan for a diverse student population's entire K-12 experience. Nationally, "The Bluest Eye," for example, is generally designated for grades 9-12. Can you imagine the daunting task of choosing materials for subjects as disparate as Reading Initiative, Algebra II, Career Development, Biology, or AP History? I don't envy them their jobs, especially in this age.
In my personal experience as a local teacher, the existence of such a committee was never intended to prevent individual parents from rejecting a book selection for their child. In fact, in my district there were always concrete guidelines in place for that possibility. If a parent has a child she is convinced will be harmed by a book, certainly she should speak up. On the other hand, that does not give her the right (as a parent or concerned citizen) to seize the reins of book adoption from objective persons who have been vetted, trained, and hired to do their jobs.
A move from objective, trained committees and their governing boards in schools and libraries to a political county court or radicalized Moms For Liberty is wrong on too many levels to count. But let's count this one first.
Allowing individual parents to force their particular religious or political agendas on the curriculum or library selections in public schools or libraries is an ominous threat to every person's constitutional rights to free speech. This whole "banned" book uproar is not about sex; it is about political power.
Dana F. Steward is a retired writing teacher from Sherwood and editor of the nature anthology "A Rough Sort of Beauty: Reflections on the Natural Heritage of Arkansas."