Johnson is a United Methodist pastor, the author of "Holding Up Your Corner: Talking About Race in Your Community" (Abingdon Press, 2017) and vice president of the Bridge Alliance, which houses The Fulcrum.
Last week marked Banned Books Week (October 1-7, 2023).
The essence of the week represents a shared responsibility to preserve democratic values and oppose efforts to hinder knowledge. It is an observance that exposes citizens to the information and autonomy necessary to formulate their viewpoints and make well-informed decisions, reinforcing the building blocks of a functioning democracy.
Banned Books Week invites reflection on the problem of prohibiting books that have resurfaced in our country. A critical examination of the banning movement reveals an effort fueled by a minute fringe group antithetical towards BIPOC+ (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color+) and LGBTI+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Intersex+) writers, readers, and themes. The act of book banning contradicts our First Amendment rights -- the freedom to abstain and engage with texts as individuals choose.
One must recognize books' integral role when reflecting on history. They impart knowledge, broaden perspectives, and foster critical thinking. Literature transcends geographical boundaries and cultural differences, enabling a deeper understanding of ourselves and those around us.
It is essential to examine why certain groups are advocating for book bans. Historically speaking and still relevant today, banned books often contain content deemed controversial or threatening to specific segments of society. Defenders of book bans often use fear-based tactics with language such as "protecting children" or "preserving values" to maintain their version of order and morality without considering diverse perspectives on sensitive issues.
Even more alarming is how this banning movement disproportionately targets BIPOC+ and LGBTI+ writers and narratives. In turn, it undermines the much-needed representation these communities deserve. As a society that champions diversity and inclusion, we must ensure that marginalized voices are heard rather than silenced.
The First Amendment is the cultural cornerstone of the values of freedom of speech and expression. Inherent in that right is our ability to choose what we read without unnecessary restrictions imposed upon us by others. A request that encompasses acknowledging and defending the freedom of others to abstain from engaging with particular works if they so choose.
While parents and educators must regularly make decisions based on the moral principles they follow, they should also be aware of the societal consequences of suffocating diverse perspectives in literature. Engaging in open conversations regarding sensitive subjects breeds empathy rather than perpetuating discriminatory misconceptions.
Book banning is an assault on the First Amendment and intellectual inquiry. It is a dangerous precedent that threatens individual thought and diminishes our shared cultural expression, which makes us united in our differences. Last week's observance is a respectful act of resistance in opposition to censorship and responsible expression of civic participation.
Demonstrators rally outside the U.S. Supreme Court as justices hear oral arguments on whether President Donald Trump can deny citizenship to children born to parents who are in the United States illegally or temporarily, on Capitol Hill, in Washington, Wednesday, April 1, 2026. (AP Photo/Mariam Zuhaib)
Luz Angela Nuñez with her daughter Aisha Quershi Nuñez at their home in College Point, Queens. Photo: Mia Anzalone for Documented.
Kimberly Alvarez, 25, with her daughter Evangeline and her husband John Alvarez in Medellin, Colombia. Photo courtesy of Kimberly Alvarez.Alvarez arrived in New York City in February 2024 with her husband John Alvarez as asylum seekers from Venezuela. In April 2025, Alvarez found out she was pregnant with her first child, a baby girl. Her first reaction, she said, was fear.“How am I going to keep her alive?” she said. “That’s what I was thinking. ‘How am I going to be able to take care of her?’”At the beginning of Alvarez’s pregnancy, she said she was aware of the immigration enforcement occurring around the country, but vowed not to let it deter her from showing up to her doctor’s appointments.“When you went out, you were always on alert because you didn’t know if [ICE] might be around. I never saw anything suspicious,” Alvarez said. “But of course, you feel scared.”In October, when Alvarez was six months pregnant, her husband was detained by ICE agents at 26 Federal Plaza. When the immediate shock wore off, she obsessively checked the Online Detainee Locator System to find out where her husband went. A day later, she discovered that he was being kept at Delaney Hall detention center in New Jersey. Alvarez quickly set up an account to pay for phone calls, and every two days, she would pay about $10 for a one-hour call, updating her husband about the baby, her appointments and how she was doing.“Crying was the only way for me to release the tension,” said Alvarez, who worried that her lack of sleep and bad diet were impacting her baby. “Crying was the only way for me to release the tension.”—Kimberly AlvarezThat tension built up day by day, week by week following her husband’s arrest. Alvarez had stopped her work as a cleaner in the neighborhood’s synagogues two weeks before her husband’s detention because of her pregnancy. The plan, she said, was to rely solely on his income as a maintenance worker for “the food, the rent, everything.” Left with few choices, Kimberley had to rely on her mother’s income as a cleaner. The older woman had moved to New York from North Carolina to assist with Alvarez’s pregnancy. “I feel like I’m supposed to help my mom, not the other way around,” Alvarez said. “I felt powerless because I couldn’t do anything.”On Dec. 9, Alvarez gave birth to a daughter, Evangeline. While her baby was healthy, Alvarez’s anxieties did not go away. While she returned to cleaning synagogues a few months after Evangeline’s birth to help make ends meet, Alvarez and her daughter rarely left home. Alvarez said she felt paralyzed, getting frequent alerts from a neighborhood WhatsApp group when ICE was spotted nearby. One day, she said, ICE arrested her friend’s husband in Sunset Park, in an area where she would sometimes take Evangeline for walks.“I’m so afraid that I’ll go out and run into one of them and that they’ll take her away from me,” Alvarez said. “That’s my biggest fear, that someone will take her away from me and I won’t know where my daughter is.”In March, her husband decided to voluntarily remove himself from the United States and move back to Colombia, where he is originally from. It was a family decision, but it was not a happy one — hiring immigration lawyers was too expensive, Alvarez said, adding that staying in the U.S. felt too uncertain. 
