FTLF Blog
Last week, the United States Supreme Court declined to hear Little v. Llano County—the case that bears my name and, more importantly, represents a fundamental question about who gets to decide what we are allowed to read in a public library.
Disappointed doesn’t come close to describing my reaction. It feels like 38 million Americans in Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi have been thrown to the wolves.
By refusing to take up the case, the Court allowed a deeply troubling ruling from the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals to stand—a ruling that says public library patrons have no First Amendment right to access books in a public library. In plain terms, that decision treats libraries not as spaces for learning and inquiry, but as extensions of government speech, where elected officials can remove books simply because they disagree with their ideas.
That is not what libraries are supposed to be. And it is not what the First Amendment promises.
Our story began in 2021 in Llano County, Texas, when local officials removed 17 books from public library shelves. These weren’t obscure, dangerous, or illegal materials. Many were award-winning books, including titles written for both young and old people, that addressed race, history, gender, and identity—subjects that some politicians now treat as threats rather than realities.
Along with other community members, librarians, and advocates, I challenged those removals because they violated what libraries stand for: free access to information without political interference. A federal district court initially agreed, ordering the books returned and affirming that libraries exist to provide access to diverse viewpoints.
But the Fifth Circuit reversed that decision, adopting a novel and dangerous theory that library collections are “government speech.” If that logic holds, then any local government official could decide what ideas are acceptable—and quietly erase the rest.
The Supreme Court’s decision not to hear the case means that this ruling now governs Texas, Louisiana, and Mississippi. But make no mistake: its impact will not stop at state lines.
This isn’t just about 17 books in one rural Texas town. It’s about whether libraries remain places of discovery—or become tools of political control.
For generations, Americans have understood that libraries are different from other government institutions. They are places where people go not to be told what to think, but to explore, question, and learn for themselves. That understanding is deeply rooted in First Amendment principles and reinforced by decades of legal precedent.
The Fifth Circuit’s ruling upends that tradition. It invites censorship by framing book removal as a policy preference rather than a constitutional violation. And it sends a signal to book-banning efforts across the country that they may be able to proceed with fewer legal consequences.
At a time when coordinated challenges to books are accelerating nationwide—often targeting stories about marginalized communities—this signal is dangerous.
For me, this fight has never been abstract.
I am a mother. I am a reader. I believe deeply that young people deserve the opportunity to encounter a wide range of stories—not just the ones that make those in power comfortable.
It is heartbreaking to think that my children, and children across the country, could grow up in a world where access to books depends on the political climate of their zip code. Where curiosity is treated as something to manage rather than encourage.
And yet, even in this moment, I am not giving up hope.
History shows us that progress is not linear. The freedom to read has been challenged before—and every time, it has required people to stand up, speak out, and refuse to accept censorship as normal.
The Supreme Court’s silence makes one thing clear: the responsibility to protect the freedom to read now falls more heavily on states, local governments, and civil society.
That is why organizations like the Freedom to Learn Foundation are so critical right now.
FTLF works to defend libraries, support educators, advance pro-freedom policies in state legislatures, and educate communities about what is truly at stake when books are removed from shelves. This work is strategic, legal, educational, and deeply human.
It is also urgent.
If you believe that libraries should remain places of open access—not political gatekeeping—I invite you to stand with us.
The Supreme Court may have chosen not to act, but the rest of us still can.
Libraries are not battlegrounds. They are bridges—to knowledge, empathy, and understanding. And they are worth defending.
Join us. Support this work. And help ensure that the freedom to read remains a defining American value—not a fading memory.
