Silencing Pride: LGBTQ+ Book Bans and the Politics of Censorship in America

June 26, 2015, seems like it was yesterday. I remember precisely where I was on that momentous day in LGBTQ+ history. My boyfriend Aaron and I were perched up next to a light pole in front of the Citi Bank on Castro Street. Hand in hand, we stood there in the middle of the street, which had been shut down in true San Francisco tradition to become a political rally or celebration, all dependent on the outcome. The Castro, our gayborhood and a once Gay Mecca for the LGBTQ+ community, was filled with crowds gathered to await the Supreme Court of the United States decision in the landmark case Obergefell v. Hodges (2015), which would legalize same-sex marriage in all fifty states. Just thirty-five years earlier, almost to the day, Harvey Milk urged Americans to come out and be their true selves. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours, but before anyone could announce the decision over the microphone, the jumbotron on stage flashed the news. I have never seen such a beautiful sight in my entire life. No matter where you looked, everyone was overcome with emotion - cheering, crying, hugging strangers, and kissing loved ones. As Aaron embraced me as I sobbed into his chest, the energy was palpable as our rights, as American citizens, were upheld in the 5-4 decision (Obergefell v. Hodges).

What felt like a cultural shift in the United States in 2015 now feels like a fragile victory amid the new wave of anti-LGBTQ+ legislation. At that historic moment in LGBTQ+ history almost ten years ago, we could never have imagined how the fight would have escalated to where we are today. Since then, there has been a rise of wide-sweeping anti-LGBTQ+ legislation across the United States of America, targeting transgender individuals and broader ideological campaigns to control education, suppress queer expression, and police the visibility of LGBTQ+ lives through censorship. According to Pen America, a nonprofit organization fighting to protect free expression, “…more than 4,000 unique titles…” were banned during the 2023-2024 school year, of which 25% featured LGBTQ+ characters (Markham et al.). While book banning is not a new construct to the education landscape, the current censorship reflects the decisive political and societal shift since 2015, particularly around race, gender identity, gender expression, and sexuality. This shift raises questions not just about what is appropriate but who is. It is not only a legal issue but a profoundly human one at its core. As the narrative is often spun as “protecting children,” we question the constitutionality of the targeted ban on LGBTQ+ books and the lasting implications on the youth of America. Through landmark cases such as Board of Education v. Pico (1982), Tinker v. Des Moines School District (1968), and Rosenberger v. University of Virginia (1995), the Supreme Court of the United States has not only carved out student’s rights but further ruled against discrimination. With a careful analytical exploration of testimonial and empirical evidence, our research argues that the coordinated attacks on the LGBTQ+ community via book bans violate the Constitution of the United States First Amendment by participating in viewpoint discrimination, denying students the right to access information, and inexplicably harming LGBTQ+ youth. We challenge the ideology that these extensive bans are exclusively about parental or content control but, through the context of the expansive history of censorship facing the LGBTQ+ community, a weaponization of political moralization through fearmongering and coded homophobia.

To fully grasp the nuanced issue at hand in the censorship battle facing LGBTQ+ books and authors, we must first understand the broader historical context of cultural suppression that has plagued the LGBTQ+ community. Time and time again, United States history has proven that censors have continually “…policed homosexual and homoerotic content more strictly than they did straight material…” (Carrol). This type of target censorship was not born to target explicit content but to play a part in the erasure of LGBTQ+ individuals from education, history, and American society at large. Unfortunately, this very pattern of historic LGBTQ+ censorship is still a recognizable and prevalent trajectory that is alive and plaguing the book bans of today.  

From federal obscenity laws in the 19th Century to mid-20th Century film codes and Cold War-era purges of queer individuals, LGBTQ+ people have repeatedly faced legal, cultural, and institutional efforts to silence their identities. Understanding this history is essential to framing today’s book bans as not simply misguided and unconstitutional policies but as a continuation of systemic suppression of queer voices. As Jordan Carroll, an English professor and author, outlines in Obscenity Trials and American Literature, censorship of LGBTQ+ expression has taken many forms—legal, political, and cultural—and often intersects with dominant norms around religion, morality, and national identity (Carroll). However, what unites these instances across time is a desire to control not only what people say but who they are allowed to be.

One of the earliest and most consequential tools of queer censorship was the Comstock Laws, enacted in 1873. These federal laws, named after anti-vice crusader Anthony Comstock, “…made it a federal crime to circulate obscene materials through the US mail, including not only pornography but also contraceptives, abortifacients, and information about birth control” (Carroll 4). LGBTQ+ content, whether educational, autobiographical, or even fictional, was often swept up in these prohibitions. Authors who wrote about same-sex desire risked arrest, and materials that sought to explore gender identity or queer relationships could be seized and destroyed. While these laws were superficially aimed at protecting “moral virtue,” their effect was to criminalize queer existence in print. Legislation like the Comstock Law reinforced a cultural silence around queer lives and experiences of the era.

Censorship grew beyond print and into visual media with the implementation of the Motion Picture Code of 1930, or the Hays Code, in the early 20th Century. Formally adopted by Hollywood film studios in 1930, the Hays Code served as a form of self-censorship that dictated what could be shown on screen in the hope of not “…lower[ing] the moral standards of those who see it” (Doherty 361). Among its prohibitions was “4. Sex Perversion or any inference to it is forbidden,” widely understood to include homosexuality (Doherty 363). For decades, LGBTQ+ characters were either completely erased from film or portrayed as tragic, villainous, or mentally unstable. These portrayals contributed to public perceptions of queerness as unnatural or dangerous. By restricting positive or realistic depictions of LGBTQ+ people, the film industry helped reinforce cultural stigmas surrounding the queer community. Media censorship functioned to limit what was seen and shape who could be understood as a valid subject of public empathy or recognition.

This systematic exclusion of LGBTQ+ people from mainstream culture was further entrenched during the Cold War era, particularly during what became known as the Lavender Scare, which accompanied McCarthyism’s Red Scare. In the 1950s and 1960s, the United States government embarked on a campaign to root out suspected homosexuals from federal employment, arguing that they were security risks who could be blackmailed or corrupted. Thousands lost their jobs or were driven to resign. Queer people were not only fired, but they were framed as threats to the moral fabric of the country. Schools and libraries participated in this fear by restricting access to LGBTQ+ content, arguing that it endangered children or promoted deviance. As historian David K. Johnson documents in The Lavender Scare: The Cold War Persecution of Gays & Lesbians in the Federal Government, this movement institutionalized homophobia at the highest levels of government as “…homosexuals posed a threat to national security…” and helped cement the idea that queer identities should be hidden or eliminated from public life (Johnson 9).

These forms of legal and cultural suppression, whether through federal law, media policy, or employment purges, shared a common goal: to eliminate queer visibility and create a heteronormative mold for America. This coordinated erasure shaped the broader environment in which LGBTQ+ people lived, learned, and tried to express themselves. Censorship, in this vein, is and was never neutral; it is a means of social control. The state, working in tandem with religious institutions, media corporations, and school systems, actively sought to regulate which lives were deemed acceptable and which were not. The fact that LGBTQ+ book bans are seeing a resurgence in public schools and libraries across the United States is not simply a reappearance of moral panic but the continuation of a centuries-long targeted campaign of queer suppression. This historical context underscores that contemporary book bans targeting LGBTQ+ authors and stories are not new cultural anomalies. They are the latest chapter in a deeply entrenched tradition of denying queer people the right to speak, to be seen, and to exist within public discourse. Recognizing this lineage is critical, not just for constitutional analysis, but for understanding the stakes of these bans. They do not merely remove books from shelves; they erase the lives and identities of the people those books represent.

Over time, censorship has evolved, though the intent behind it remains at the core of this educational, societal, and political debate. Their mission: to erase the LGBTQ+ community from the long-fought visible platform of outward existence and reinforce a heteronormative society. The same coded strategies that once banned queer literature under the Comstock Laws or erased queer identity from films thanks to Hollywood’s Hays Code now reemerge through book bans that disguise their homophobia by hiding under the moniker of “protecting children” from “inappropriate” or “pornographic” content. The 21^st Century terminology often does not describe actual obscenity but effectively targets LGBTQ+ identities. Using dog whistles like “grooming” or “indoctrination” allows the echoes of the fearmongering campaigns of the Lavender Scare and Anita Bryant to live on today. These strategies overtly obscure the issue of constitutional rights as they try to reframe the issue as “parental rights” or safety. Through the ambiguity, it is crucial to examine the constitutional framework of the First Amendment in this contested intersection of freedom of expression, access to information, and student identity. 

While the debate over LGBTQ+ book banning often invokes historical, emotional, political, and lasting cultural concerns, they ultimately implicate the fundamental principles of the Constitution of the United States. At the core of this ongoing fight is the First Amendment, which protects the right to free expression and access to information. However, framed through the lens of public education, these protected rights have become complex entities that have evoked much discussion and litigation. Through each challenge, the Supreme Court of the United States has laid out the constitutional framework that reinforces the ideals of the First Amendment, including governing students’ rights, the ability to access information, challenging viewpoint discrimination, and providing a distinction between school-sponsored speech and independent expression. Through an analysis of these landmark cases, we, in turn, lay the legal precedent for interpreting the LGBTQ+ book bans of today.

In December 1965, eight months after the United States had officially entered the Vietnam War, anti-war sentiment had trickled through the United States of America. Protests, both vocal and silent, became common, including for students. Following a private meeting at a family home, John F. Tinker, Mary Beth Tinker, and Christopher Eckhardt decided to object to the ongoing war publicly and planned to wear black arm bands to school in protest. However, the schools they attended in Des Moines, Iowa, discovered the plan and subsequently “…adopted a policy that any student wearing an armband to school…would be suspended until he returned without the armband” (Tinker v. Des Moines School Dist. 504). Upon arriving at their campuses with armbands in tow, all three students were suspended from school. The students filed a complaint with the district court, where the case was dismissed as it found the school district's authority to handle the matter was constitutionally sound.

The Eighth Circuit affirmed the ruling upon appeal, agreeing with the lower court’s decision. However, in 1969, the Supreme Court charted a new path forward with Tinker v. Des Moines School Dist. (1969). Justice Abe Fortas confirmed the reversal of the lower court’s decision in the majority opinion. He wrote, “They neither interrupted school activities nor sought to intrude in the school affairs or the lives of others. They caused discussion outside of the classrooms, but no interference with work and no disorder. In the circumstances, our Constitution does not permit officials of the State to deny their form of expression” (Tinker v. Des Moines School Dist. 514). This case and its subsequent opinion ultimately established the broad protections and case law that legalize student expression on a public campus, protected under the First Amendment. The precedent can also be applied to a student's access to information, arguing that neither student nor teacher “…shed their constitutional rights to freedom of speech…at the schoolhouse gate” (Tinker v. Des Moines School Dist. 506).

Though decided before Tinker, West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette (1943) aids in defending student’s rights in a different yet important way. Amidst World War II, in 1940, the West Virginia legislature amended a statute to require all schools within the state to include courses “…for the purpose of teaching…the ideals, principles, and spirit of Americanism…” (West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette 625). Two years later, the Board of Education adopted a resolution to mandate that all students in public schools salute the flag during the pledge of allegiance and that all those who refuse would be seen as insubordinate. However, after some modifications, none were made for those who were Jehovah’s Witnesses, which led to children of this faith being expelled or threatened with exclusion for their lack of compliance with the salute to the flag.

Justice Robert H. Jackson, who wrote the majority opinion, elaborated, “The sole conflict is between authority and rights of the individual. The State asserts the power to condition access to public education on making a prescribed sign and profession and at the same time to coerce attendance by punishing both parent and child” (West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette 630-631). The Court overruled the previously decided Minersville School District v. Gobitis (1940) in a six to three opinion. It held that an entity may not compel an ideological conformity, such as saluting the flag, in public schools, as it is unconstitutional. Rebuking the case, Justice Jackson laments further, “…the First Amendment to our Constitution was designed to avoid these ends by avoiding these beginnings” (West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette 642). Ultimately, this case gives students the authority to resist imposed beliefs, and it may be applied to prevent schools, the district, or the state from removing books to restrict beliefs to a homogenized subset they see fit. However, this reinvigorates the crucial issue of who gets to decide the “correct” belief one must follow.

The removal of books to suppress ideals in public schools is an attack on the right to access information and at the core of the Board of Education, Island Trees Union Free School District No. 26 v. Pico (1982). In this case, against the recommendation of a book review committee made up of four parents and four staff, ordered specific books that they deemed to be “… ‘anti-American, anti-Christian, anti-Sem[i]tic, and just plain filthy,’ be removed from high school and junior high school libraries” (Board of Education v. Pico 853). Throughout his majority opinion, Justice William J. Brennan Jr. eloquently underscores a thesis that carries throughout and emphasizes that school campuses are the marketplace of ideas for students. He writes, “Our Constitution does not permit the official suppression of ideas” and then continues to cite Barnette as justification against the removal of books because “…they dislike the ideas contained in those books” (Board of Education v. Pico 871-872). The ruling, which granted certiorari to the Second Circuit’s reversal, provides students the constitutional right to access information under the First Amendment.

While Tinker focused on a student’s right to self-expression on campus, Hazelwood v. Kuhlmeier (1988) paved the way for educational institutions to censor school-sponsored publications. At the center of the case were several former students who claimed their First Amendment rights were infringed upon by their Principal, who removed two articles from their student-run newspaper, Spectrum, which was written and edited by the Journalism II class at Hazelwood East and paid for by the school district. “One of the stories described three Hazelwood East students' experiences with pregnancy; the other discussed the impact of divorce on students at the school” (Hazelwood School District v. Kuhlmeier 263). Principal Reynolds felt that the content of these stories was inappropriate and could cause harm should the students featured in the article’s identities become known. To meet the printing timeline, he pulled the stories and informed his superiors of his decision, of which they agreed with the course of action.

Aligning with the lower District Court ruling, the Supreme Court reversed the Court of Appeals for the Eight Circuits decision. Justice Byron White writes, “…we hold that educators do not offend the First Amendment…in school-sponsored expressive activities so long as their actions are reasonably related to legitimate pedagogical concerns” (Hazelwood School District v. Kuhlmeier 273). While the case is explicitly focused on curriculum-based publicans, it does not affect independent student expression in any way. Schools may censor books tied to curriculum or their educational mission. However, due to Hazelwood's limited application to library materials, students still maintain their freedom of expression to read what they choose in their free time.

While similar in scope to that of Hazelwood due to student expression in an education setting, Rosenberger v. Rector and Visitors of University of Virginia (1995) outlines the framework of viewpoint discrimination. An approved student organization, Wide Awake Productions (WAP), which published a “…magazine of philosophical and religious expression…to facilitate discussion which fosters an atmosphere of sensitivity to and tolerance of Christian viewpoints…” was denied access to student group funds to pay for the printing of their newsletter by the University’s Appropriations Committee of Student Council (Rosenberger v. University of Virginia 825-826). The committee’s denial was based on the grounds that the group was a religious activity promoting particular beliefs. However, had WAP been labeled a religious organization on campus from its inception, it would not have been approved as a Contracted Independent Organization.

Upon receiving no recourse from multiple levels of appeal on campus, WAP filed a suit claiming their rights to freedom of speech, press, and religion had all been violated. The Supreme Court held that “The University declares that the student groups eligible for SAF support are not the University’s agents, are not subject to its control, and are not its responsibility. Having offered to pay the third-party contractors on behalf of private speakers who convey their own messages, the University may not silence the expression of selected viewpoints” (Rosenberger v. University of Virginia 835). The majority opinion by Justice Anthony Kennedy outlines that viewpoint discrimination is unconstitutional and that creating a limited public forum that provides neutral access to benefits cannot exclude religious viewpoints just because they are religious.

Though the Constitution of the United States provides vast protections for the freedom of speech, access to information, and expression, under the First Amendment, school officials, legislatures, and outside forces challenging books rely heavily on legal and policy-specific justifications to defend their argument for the removal of LGBTQ+ books from public libraries, both in the community and schools. Often, these arguments invoke claims of pedagogical appropriateness, parental rights, school board authority or discretion, and alleged harm to minors. However, the argument fails to withstand when evaluated against established case law and subsequent precedents, like the aforementioned Pico, Tinker, and Rosenberger.

The Hazelwood ruling is one of the most commonly cited book ban defenses. Those challenging the book often argue that it may be removed if they are categorized as misaligned with the educational mission and curriculum of the district. However, according to Hazelwood, this argument misapplies the censorship as “…reasonably related to legitimate pedagogical concerns” (Hazelwood School District v. Kuhlmeier 273). Nevertheless, the case's core surrounded specific school-sponsored publications and instructional materials, not the exploration or independent expression within school libraries. Comparatively, Pico carves out a direct implication for libraries as officials may “…not permit the official suppression of ideas” because “…they dislike the ideas contained in those books” (Board of Education v. Pico 871-872). When LGBTQ+ books are targeted for removal explicitly for the subject, perspective, or lived experience, the challenger’s justification for banning it transitions from a pedagogical concern to viewpoint discrimination, deeming the act unconstitutional.

Often, challengers point to the authority governing the locality's public education, either the state or district school board, as justification for all matters of curriculum and libraries. They argue that each has the right to determine what is appropriate for their communities. While these school boards hold broad authority, the Supreme Court has continually affirmed that their power is not absolute, as governance does not extend to actions that violate an individual’s constitutional right. While reaffirmed in Pico, the principle was underscored by the Fifth Circuit of Appeals in Campbell v. St. Tammany Parish School Board (1995), outlining “…School Board's decision to remove Voodoo & Hoodoo concerns a non-curricular matter…” thus it “…was substantially based on an unconstitutional motivation” (Campbell v. St. Tammany Parish School Board). Though under the vast umbrella of local control, constitutional protection remains resolute.

Another ever-prominent reason put forth to challenge LGBTQ+ books is the declaration of parental rights. As seen in Florida, proponents argue that parents should have the final say in what their children are introduced to in a school setting surrounding the topics of gender expression, gender identity, and sexuality. The framing of these book bans challenges them to be “age-appropriate” for the learning environment. While parental involvement is essential and always has been, a student’s constitutional right under the First Amendment supersedes that of a parent’s rights, as outlined in Tinker. Additionally, it does not entitle a subset of parents to dictate what is allowed or available to all students within that locality. LGBTQ+ books or themes are not inherently inappropriate, sexually explicit, or harmful by virtue of the subject. Challenging and removing these books based on the discomfort with the book's essence and queer identity enforces a narrow moral, ideological, and societal worldview. With this viewpoint, the challenge transitions to the compelled orthodoxy that the Supreme Court warned about in Barnette.

Queer books have long been challenged on the grounds that they are simply “obscene,” “harmful,” or even “pornographic” in their depiction of LGBTQ+ experiences. These outlandish claims not only echo the historical panics that plague United States history but also mispresent the legal standard of what is obscene. As outlined in Miller v. California (1972), to qualify, under the law, the “…tier of act must be: (a) whether ‘the average person, applying contemporary community standards’ would find that the work, taken as a whole, appeals to the prurient interest…(b) whether the work depicts or describes, in a patently offensive way, sexual conduct specifically defined by the applicable state law; and (c) whether the work, taken as a whole, lacks serious literary, artistic, political, or scientific value” (Miller v. California 24). Discussions of identity, interpersonal relationships, and human growth in books, such as All Boys Aren’t Blue by George M. Johnson, possess literary, societal, and political value to the American population. Each coming-of-age story, memoir, or biography provides LGBTQ+ youth a lifeline to see themselves in the world and help others develop empathy for those unlike themselves. In the recent ruling in Matal v. Tam (2017), the Supreme Court further affirms that speech cannot be suppressed simply because it offends someone. Being uncomfortable or offended is not a constitutionally sound argument for censorship.

These counterarguments focused on parental rights, curriculum, and the claim of “harm” fall apart when challenged against constitutionally sound case law and precedent, primarily when the content is based on a specific identity or perspective, as they are not acts of educational prudence. Though not focused on student’s rights or education in a direct way, the unanimous decision in Matal sets a precedent that strengthens the argument of free speech, applies it broadly, and reinforces the unconstitutionality of suppression through its application under the First Amendment. This case centers around denying a trademark application by the United States Patent and Trademark Office. Simon Tam, the lead singer of a band called The Slants, filed a registration for “THE SLANTS” as a way of reclaiming the derogatory slur used against Asian individuals. The trademark was denied under “…a Lanham Act provision prohibiting the registration of trademarks that may ‘disparage…or bring…into contemp[t] or disrepute’ any ‘person, living or dead’” (Matal v. Tam 218). The Supreme Court held the lower court’s ruling, finding that the disparagement clause is unconstitutional as it infringes on the First Amendment’s Free Speech clause.

Additionally, they argue that the clause was viewpoint discrimination and that the United States government cannot suppress free speech because it offends or may offend. Ruling against the government, the Court rejected the notion that trademarks are government speech but protected private speech. Justice Thomas Alito emphasizes the free speech principle, “Speech that demeans on the basis of race, ethnicity, gender, religion, age, disability, or any other similar ground is hateful; but the proudest boast of our free speech jurisprudence is that we protect the freedom to express ‘the thought that we hate’” (Matal v. Tam 246). The court's opinion strengthens the argument against banning books based on the principle that it is offensive or harmful, reinforcing that suppression of speech cannot simply be because it is offensive, unpopular, or does not align with someone’s conflicting beliefs.

Though the First Amendment is seen as a defensive wall protecting against multiple types of censorship, the application, particularly pertaining to schools, libraries, and students, has proven far more conditional through the repeatedly contested nature of the Amendment. As we outlined previously, in the Supreme Court's decisions, such as Hazelwood and Pico, interpreting the First Amendment’s protections in a school setting depends on the fine line between individual rights and institutional authority. However, as legal precedents affirm access to ideals, recent challenges reveal that these protections are not absolute. Over the past several years, the escalated resurgence of censorship, explicitly targeting books with LGBTQ+ themes or authors, has tested these constitutional protections, reigniting the decades-long culture war surrounding public education, morality, and personal identity. From this new wave of targeted book bands, we reflect on the deeper societal and political anxieties in the United States of America and how they affect the protections of the First Amendment.

In 2024 alone, according to the American Library Association (ALA), 120 book titles comprised the list of most frequently challenged books. “The most common justifications for censorship provided by complainants were false claims of illegal obscenity for minors; inclusion of LGBTQIA+ characters or themes; and covering topics of race, racism, equity, and social justice” (American Library Association). While attempts to censor library books have drastically decreased in 2024 from the all-time high in 2023, ranking the third-highest in the thirty-five years that the ALA has documented censorship, the assault on the First Amendment is still an active threat to all Americans. Deborah Caldwell-Stone, the Director of ALA’s Office for Intellectual Freedom, argues in the ALA’s The State of America’s Libraries: A Snapshot of 2024 that book censorship attempts are no longer home gown movements but “...well-funded, organized groups and movements long dedicated to curbing access to information and ideas” (Burger et al. 6). This shift is underscored by Florida’s HB 1557, also known as the “Don’t Say Gay” Law, which upon being signed into law restricted classroom discussion of LGBTQ+ topics and triggered the removal of numerous books from libraries across the state. Though disguised as a parental rights bill, legislation like HB 1557 further proves these bans are not random but coordinated efforts to suppress the marginalized voices of the queer community disguised as protecting children or preserving community values.

In the age of technology, forces from outside of school districts have contributed to LGBTQ+ books becoming targets of censorship. The Fort Worth Independent School District in Fort Worth, Texas, banned three graphic novels in 2023 after “…a series of tweets from the conservative Twitter account Libs of TikTok…” highlighted explicit language and illustrations from the books (Allen). Of those pulled from schools was “Gender Queer: A Memoir” by Maia Kobabe, which in 2021 was the most banned book in the United States for what some call pornographic, obscene, grooming, or evil. Topics like coming out, queer romance, gender transition, or even intersectionality are only perceived as “harmful” as it does not align with the morality that some believe we should live by. According to PEN America, of the unique titles banned in the 2023-2024 school year by two or more districts, 60% were “written for a young adult audience,” “57% included sex or sex-related topics and content” and “39% included LGBTQ+ characters or people,” all a part of a broad campaign to effectively reshape American public education (Meehan). However, we call out the hypocrisy at play here, as we do not see books like Lord of the Flies getting censored for murder or The Boxcar Children series for the children’s lack of parental supervision, issues of far greater importance than a person’s identity. This juxtaposition between what is “harmful” and what is not underlines that these bans are often out of discomfort with LGBTQ+ identities and have nothing to do with the actual nature of the content.

Through the suppression of queer stories, the loudest voices in the conversation are framing LGBTQ+ literature as inappropriate or dangerous in the hopes of “protecting the children,” a call back to the infamous Save Our Children crusade of the 1970s led by Anita Bryant and church leaders nationwide. Building upon the Comstock Laws and the Lavender Scare, each of these campaigns sought to conflate queer identities with obscenity or sexual predation to mask the central thesis of the argument, homophobia. In the 21st Century, organizations such as Moms for Liberty, a conservative advocacy organization aligned with the Republican Party, have picked up the torch and turned a hyper-local issue of book banning into a national political movement. Upon browsing their website, they directly link to a sister website titled BookLook.info, where a seven-step “Plan of Action” can be found to have a book challenged in school districts. It even goes as far as to list what to do if the challenge is unsuccessful in its mission, “7. Vote them out next election if they refuse to work on the issue,” providing a blueprint for challenges nationwide (BookLook.Info).

However, statistically, through their agenda, organizations like Moms for Liberty are harming students. According to The Trevor Project, the leading LGBTQ+ suicide prevention organization, of the “LGBTQ+ young people who attempted suicide in the past year,” those who attended an LGBTQ+-affirming school saw a 4% drop compared to their non-affirming counterparts (Nath, R. et al. 24). From the same group of LGBTQ+ youth surveyed, 90% say that the current political landscape is negatively affecting them and their well-being. Moreover, it is also detrimental to their adolescent development. Grace Pickering, a young adult librarian and former Pratt Institute fellow, argues that book banning “…lead[s] to a less rich, more constricted environment for adolescents to develop and flourish,” while advocates argue that reading about a person experience different than your own will, in turn, lead to more profound empathy as a human (Pickering 37). She outlines that though all marginalized identities are affected by book bans, LGBTQ+ adolescents face a greater health risk. “Banning the books that deny young people the mirrors, windows, and doors that they need is likely to be detrimental to their mental health. They lose representation of themselves...” (Pickering 39). From these jarring statistics alone and the developmental impact, it paints a grave picture of the struggles our queer youth are facing and the implications that censorship policies lead to a deadly, less empathetic, non-affirming school environment for them. One that many do not live through.

With organizations' concerted effort to “protect the children,” the resistance and legal response that has challenged the removal of these books has been vast, led by the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), Lambda Legal, and PEN America. Cases such as Little v. Llano County (2024) are paving the way for the removed books to be reinstated under the application of Pico, Barnette, Tinker, and the Fifth Circuit’s ruling in Campbell. Circuit Judge Leslie H. Southwick ordered that “…officials may not ‘remove books from school library shelves simply because they dislike the ideas contained in those books and seek by their removal to prescribe what shall be orthodox in politics, nationalism, religion, or other matters of opinion’” (Little v. Llano County 28). By labeling these actions as unconstitutional and ordering the reinstatement, the Fifth Circuit affirms the First Amendment rights of the public to access diverse books and ideals within a public library setting.

Despite the robust case law and precedent defending students’ rights across all levels of the court system in the United States, the conservative tilt plaguing the current Supreme Court of the United States raises concerns about the future of First Amendment protections, specifically as they relate to LGBTQ+ expression in the world of educational. With the six to three conservative majority, the Court has, in recent years, shown a greater willingness to prioritize religious freedom, claims of educational discretion, and parental authority. These ideological trends cast much doubt on how the Court might rule on an LGBTQ+ book banning case, should one reach their bench. However, this concern is underscored in the pending decision in Mahmoud v. Taylor (2025), in which oral arguments were heard on April 22, 2025. “In this case, however, parents are not objecting to the presence of such books on a bookshelf but to teacher-led discussion of books that they believe contradict their own religious beliefs about sexuality and parents’ inability to opt their children out of such discussions” (Vile). The core framing of this case signifies a shift towards parental empowerment and an increased hand in choosing the curriculum. As the Brown Undergraduate Law Review outlines, “The decision of the Court can either strengthen the authority of public schools to set curriculum policies with little regard for religious identities or it can reshape how schools approach teaching about topics of gender and sexuality in ways that accommodate religion-based concerns” (Madahar). Ultimately, this decision could lead to far-reaching restrictions on LGBTQ+ literature and content in public education, further erasing queer voices from existence, leading to less acceptance, and harming queer students.

However, not all decisions have championed the First Amendment and moved the needle forward, as we have seen inconsistencies in the lower court's decisions and application of case law. In ACLU v. Miami-Dade County School Board (2009), the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeal reversed a 2006 decision that found the school board’s actions unconstitutional. The case centered around removing the book “A Visit to Cuba” and the entire “A Visit To…” series that the school board perceived was inaccurate in depicting life in Cuba, making them “inappropriate” for children. However, in their reversal, the appellate did not evaluate the case under Pico or Hazelwood; instead, it was only a de novo review of the evidence. Judge Charles R. Wilson, dissenting, underscores this practice, “The majority declines to determine whether the standard set forth in Hazelwood…or…Pico…applies to school library book removal decisions…,” though, “under the more lenient standard in Hazelwood…this standard does not, however, permit a school board to engage in viewpoint discrimination” (ACLU v. Miami-Dade County School Board 127-128).

Similarly to how a father can challenge “A Visit to Cuba” for not being truthful to his own lived experience in Cuba, as cited in ACLU, the challenges around “protecting the children” from LGBTQ+ literature are often a facade for viewpoint discrimination. At its core, the targeted “protections” are dead set on silencing perspectives that challenge heteronormative or even religious norms. However, the distinction is crucial as regulation becomes unconstitutional when motivated to suppress an ideology or identity. As discussed previously, Rosenberger sets a clear legal framework to prove this unconstitutional.

The central legal argument is not whether schools can curate library materials, as that has been affirmed, but why certain books are removed, who gets to decide, and which identities are being silenced. When outside forces, school boards, and conservative legislatures disproportionately target LGBTQ+ books under subjective or moralistic pretenses, they are not protecting students. They are unconstitutionally prescribing a specific orthodox that aligns with their chosen politics, religion, and societal norms. These bans are not isolated incidents made in the interest of educational appropriateness but a part of an extensive targeted pattern of queer erasure that stretches from the Comstock Laws to the Hays Code to the Lavender Scare and now into present-day public institutions. As precedents like Tinker, Pico, and Rosenberger make clear, neither offense nor discomfort grants entities the power to suppress expression. However, that suppression is precisely unfolding in the United States in 2025. With the Supreme Court signaling a potential vast change from their forthcoming decision in Mahmoud, the constitutional protections many have long relied upon feel increasingly hollow in this climate. I often reflect on that June day on Castro Street when I stood beside my boyfriend, tears streaming down my face, as we celebrated a hard-won affirmation of our humanity in the form of Obergefell. That moment filled us with the dream of possibility, with the belief that dignity, visibility, and true equality were finally within reach for all LGBTQ+ Americans. A decade later, that promise is being undermined not with shouted slurs but with quiet legislation, school board votes, and the removal of queer literature. The fight for equality has shifted from the steps of the Supreme Court to the shelves of public libraries, but the stakes remain the same: who gets to be seen, whose stories are told, and whether queer youth grow up in a country that welcomes them or tries to erase them. That is why we must treat the freedom to read as inseparable from the freedom to exist and insist that every student, regardless of identity, has the right to find themselves in a book, a classroom, and the nation they call home.

Works Cited

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Burger, Leslie, et al. The State of America’s Libraries: A Snapshot of 2024. Edited by Jean Hodges, American Library Association, Apr. 2025, http://www.ala.org/sites/default/files/2025-04/state-of-americas-libraries-report-2025-WEB.pdf.

BookLook.Info. “Plan of Action.” BookLook.Info, www.booklook.info/our-playbook.

Carroll, Jordan. “Obscenity Trials and American Literature.” Oxford Research Encyclopedia of Literature, 23 Feb. 2021. Oxford University Press, https://doi.org/10.1093/acrefore/9780190201098.013.1254.

Doherty, Thomas Patrick. Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, Immorality, and Insurrection in American Cinema, 1930-1934. Columbia University Press, 1999.

Johnson, David K. The Lavender Scare: The Cold War Persecution of Gays and Lesbians in the Federal Government. University of Chicago Press, 2004.

Madahar, Lavleen Kaur. “Mahmoud v. Taylor: An Upcoming Supreme Court Case About Education and Free Exercise of Religion in a Polarized America.” Brown Undergraduate Law Review, 17 Apr. 2025, https://www.brownulr.org/blogposts/mahmoud-v-taylor-an-upcoming-supreme-court-case-about-education-and-free-exercise-of-religion-in-a-polarized-america.

Markham, Madison, et al. “Cover to Cover: An Analysis of Titles Banned in the 23-24 School Year.” PEN America, 27 Feb. 2025, https://www.pen.org/report/cover-to-cover. 

Meehan, Kasey, et al. “Banned in the USA: Beyond the Shelves.” PEN America, 1 Nov. 2024, http://www.pen.org/report/beyond-the-shelves.

Nath, R., et al. “2024 U.S. National Survey on the Mental Health of LGBTQ+ Young People.” The Trevor Project, 2024, http://www.thetrevorproject.org/survey-2024/.

Pickering, Grace. “Harmful to Minors: How Book Bans Hurt Adolescent Development.” The Serials Librarian, vol. 84, no. 1–4, May 2023, pp. 32–45. https://doi.org/10.1080/0361526x.2023.2245843.

United States, Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit. Campbell v. St. Tammany Parish School Board. Docket no. 94-30594, 15 Sept. 1995, FindLaw, https://caselaw.findlaw.com/court/us-5th-circuit/1388284.html. 

---. Little v. Llano County. Docket no. 23-50224, 6 Jun. 2024, United States Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit, https://www.ca5.uscourts.gov/opinions/pub/23/23-50224-CV0.pdf.

United States, Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit. ACLU v. Miami-Dade County School Board. Docket no. 06-14633, 5 Feb. 2009, United States Court of Appeals for the Eleventh Circuit, https://media.ca11.uscourts.gov/opinions/pub/files/200614633.pdf.

United States, Supreme Court. Board of Education, Island Trees Union Free School District No. 26 v. Pico. United States Reports, vol. 457, 25 June 1982, pp. 853 – 921. The Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/usrep457853/.

---. Hazelwood School District v. Kuhlmeier. United States Reports, vol. 484, 13 Jan. 1988, pp. 260 – 291. The Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/usrep484260/.

---. Matal v. Tam. United States Reports, vol. 582, 19 June 2017, pp. 218 – 254. The Supreme Court of the United States, https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/boundvolumes/582BV.pdf. 

---. Miller v. California. United States Reports, vol. 413, 21 June 1973, pp 15 – 48. The Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/usrep413015/.

---. Obergefell v. Hodges. United States Reports, vol. 576, 26 June 2015, pp. 644 – 742. The Supreme Court of the United States, https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/boundvolumes/576BV.pdf.

---. Rosenberger v. Rector and Visitors of University of Virginia. United States Reports, vol 515, 29 June 1995, pp. 819 – 899. The Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/usrep515819/.

---. Tinker v. Des Moines Independent Community School District. United States Reports, vol. 393, 24 Feb. 1969, pp. 503 – 526. The Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/usrep393503/.

---. West Virginia State Board of Education. v. Barnette. United States Reports, vol. 319, 14 June 1943, pp. 624 – 671. The Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/item/usrep319624/. 

Vile, John R. “Mahmoud v. Taylor.” The Free Speech Center, 22 Apr. 2025, http://www.firstamendment.mtsu.edu/article/mahmoud-v-taylor.