Banned from the Library! - An Appeal
Dear Library,
When I was just a wee infant, life threw me a curveball: a diagnosis of a crippling peanut allergy that shaped my early existence. Dietarily speaking, it was a burden; socially, it was a catastrophe. In first grade, they quarantined me away from my classmates, relegating me to a rotating cast of boys and girls, peanut-free lunch companions who, let’s be honest, resented me for the restrictions imposed on them by my affliction. I was the odd one out, a pariah. After two years of feeling like a liability, I had enough. In third grade, I was defiant, I decided that enough was enough. I wouldn’t let my allergy dictate my social life any longer. My helicopter mother wouldn’t let me sit with the class, so instead, my lunch and I sat together, armed with a book. I was no longer going to be the reason kids complained about eating another tuna fish sandwich.
That first book, Matilda, was a revelation. From that moment on, literature became my companion, my friend, my protector. Unlike people, books never judged or abandoned me; they were always ready to welcome me back into their pages. This unwavering friendship has taken me on remarkable journeys—from college to Rome, from Harlem to Philadelphia, and ultimately to Grand Rapids, where I recently completed my first novel. I’d be remiss if I didn’t take this moment to mention it: Where the Birds Play is set to hit the shelves by ………. (soon!), and I can hardly wait to share it. It’s a blend of Requiem for a Dream, On the Waterfront, and Friday Night Lights—you’ll want to keep an eye out for it.
Now, I can hardly overstate the importance of a well-maintained library, especially in a cold city. And i’m sure it’s hard. It needs to available to all people, always. I can’t imagine the logistics. When I first arrived here, I found the Main Branch to be less than conducive to my creative endeavors. Because for better or worse, the library is for the public. It’s more than just a building filled with books; it’s a sanctuary where aspirations take root and dreams get fleshed out. And yes, people also come to get warm. As Will Hunting once said, “You dropped a 150k on a fuckin’ education you coulda got for a 1.50 in late charges at the public library.” It’s true! The library is a place where knowledge can be nurtured, regardless of one’s background.
In my two or three decades of life, I’ve wandered into many libraries, each with its own character and charm. My time in Philadelphia was marked by a rather unremarkable library at my college, a stark contrast to the grandeur my friends has at schools like Fordham and Virginia. But it hardly mattered; the ambiance, the stillness, and the palpable weight of knowledge were ever-present, a comforting constant.
I found solace in this library, especially the Western Branch. I frequented the quiet study room two to four times a week, forming bonds with many of the staff members. If you were to check my checkouts, you’d see the myriad of fantastic books this library has introduced me to—perhaps I’m your most dedicated patron. But perhaps more compelling is a recent incident that wound me up. I apologize, but allow me to explain.
On this particularly rainy Saturday, I found myself uninspired. Instead of wrestling with my own words, I decided to immerse myself in the work of better, more accomplished writer. I settled into a comfy chair at the West Branch, book in hand, enjoying the sound of the steady rain outside. But my peace was soon disrupted by a commotion near the computers. A young boy, no older than 14, was apologizing for the volume of his headphones while being ushered out by Steve, an all-too self-serious staff member. This boy, blissfully unaware of the library rule he was breaking, was treated way too harshly for his transgression. He passed me, tears streaming down his face, as Steve carried him into the pouring rain with no remorse.
I went outside to speak with him; this was not a mean-spirited child, merely a kid with a big heart caught in an unfortunate situation. He didn’t even know his music was being overheard. I confronted Steve, horrified by his treatment of the boy who had nowhere else to go. This was a moment that begged for empathy, not humiliation. Steve seemed keen on embarrassing this kid, and I had to speak up. If I did yell, I’m sorry…
I know that the library has its share of disruptions, people who like to cause “scenes.” However, this boy posed no threat; he was simply bumping Travis Scott too loud and didn’t deserve the axe. I ask you to reconsider my ban. I enjoy your facility and regularly utilize it to enrich my life. More importantly, I believe my ban to be unjust. This young boy needed someone to advocate for him in a moment when he could not do so himself. If my ban remains, I will wear it like a badge of honor, for I sleep well knowing I stood up for the young rap enthusiast.
Spilling ink and drinking tea thanks for reading…
Wendy Lee
(I’m still banned from the library)
