Libraries are where kids discover themselves. That’s why Little should veto H 314 | Opinion

At 16, I got my license, then I promptly drove 20 miles from my rural hometown in Oklahoma to a neighboring small city called Ada and got a library card. On weekends for the rest of my teen years, I would drive back and forth to the Ada Public Library with a sense of glee and freedom it’s hard to replicate even now that I have my own 16-year-old daughter.

I wasn’t allowed to watch anything rated R, but I knew important things were happening in a new golden age of film. It was the late ‘90s and stodgy, underwritten blockbusters were being usurped during the awards seasons by independent films.

I used my library card to borrow dozens of movies. I knew better than to bring home an R-rated movie, but the films I watched from the ‘50s, ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s ranged from G to PG-13 ratings, and they were the foundation of my continued love for films and narrative storytelling.

Even working my way through the classic horror section, I saw plenty my parents might have found objectionable. But it was the ‘90s and the internet had barely been invented. I doubt they thought anything of it. I saw Rosemary’s Baby, The Manchurian Candidate, The Birds, Jaws, Twilight Zone: The Movie, Poltergeist, and Psycho. My friends and I would watch the musical Grease and Dazed and Confused on repeat (that was the only one my dad got really mad about). I didn’t have to wait until I was 16 to watch Tootsie and Yentl. One came on TV back when bleeped-out swear words and naked bodies could turn any R-rated movie into a tamer, Cliff’s Notes version of the whole, which aired on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. I watched Yentl with my mom on PBS when I was probably 7 or 8. It had Barbara Streisand! I remember that she might have made me leave the room during a love scene, but I only remember it because I had no idea what was happening until she said something.

Now, let’s explore the themes from a few of the above-listed films that borrowed back then as I learned narrative structure, successful versus unsuccessful exposition, tone, character development, and other creative writing and film crafts. Some of the “harmful content” from those films include drinking, smoking, the occult, rape, strangulation, suicide, murder, psychosis, underaged drinking, marijuana use, crises of faith, cross-dressing, communism, feminism and alcoholism. Good stuff, right? And all freely available to me exactly when I needed to learn about the world so that I could make the choices that made who I am today – mother, wife, writer, editor and a graduate student working on a Master of Fine Arts degree.

I haven’t even started talking about the books I read. Like most Gen-X kids, Stephen King became a fixture by the time I was 10 or 11. And I didn’t get those books from the library. They were at my grandmother’s house.

A year ago, I read Pulitzer-Prize-winning author Anthony Doerr’s newest novel, Cloud Cuckoo Land. About a third of the novel takes place in the fictional Idaho town of Lakeport and its fictional public library, and the events that take place there are the embodiment of a core theme of the book — how humans who preserve texts and artifacts make possible our modern society’s continued education based on world history, art and cultural narratives. Doerr lives in Idaho. The book is dedicated to librarians. I can’t accept the tragic inequity of making Doerr’s works unavailable to minors in his own state.

The Idaho Legislature has fallen victim to the worst instincts one can find in world history — the crime of suppressing the stories they wish to wipe from the earth. Since House Bill 314A is left wide open to interpretation, you can bet it won’t take long for a school or public library to be sued, and what an incredible waste of much-needed funding to keep library materials up-to-date and relevant to the communities it serves.

Gov. Brad Little, please be brave enough to be on the right side of history and veto HB 314A. It is written from a place of misunderstanding, even hatred, of vital lessons from art, culture and history. These perspectives do not “harm” children who are taught critical thinking skills and creativity. They give the kind of nuance kids and teens need to strike out as adults, and eventually as parents themselves. These resources can save the lives of kids who see no path except the one their parents set for them. As a grown child whose parents did not raise her that way and a mother whose kids know how to self-censor because that is how we parent, I implore you to veto House Bill 314A.

Katie Stokes is a technical editor. She lives in Idaho Falls.