Francine Lozeau, a retired teacher who works at the Lebanon Library on Mondays, looks for a book in the children’s section.
Francine Lozeau, a retired teacher who works at the Lebanon Library on Mondays, looks for a book in the children’s section. Credit: Alex Driehas / Valley News

I was not an informed mom when my son was born. He weighed just two pounds and arrived eight weeks early. From the get-go, I had to learn to become a strong advocate for my child. Without access to paid family leave or reliable child care, and raising a child with a disability, I learned quickly that I needed to fight for him and for access to the resources he deserves. Supporting my son through early intervention and public school felt isolating. But when I started sharing my story, I realized that so many families experience what I was going through. 

Having places like the library helped me find information, connect with other parents and feel more supported. So I started attending library and school board meetings. Meeting after meeting, I stopped just fighting for my son and started fighting for everyone’s kids. When the opportunity appeared to step up and fill a board vacancy, I did. Today, serving on both my town’s library board and school board, I’ve come to recognize that the books we offer our children in these spaces are how they learn who they are, where they belong and that this country has a place for them.

It didn’t sit right with me when book challenges started to creep into our libraries and schools. Talking with other parents, I have heard that this isn’t what families are asking for. Yet, politicians keep pushing for these policies, often targeting books that help kids understand who they want to be. I’ve met students who didn’t see themselves reflected in the stories around them, but then you see it in their faces — the moment something clicks when they finally do. Watching their eyes open up is exactly what’s at stake. 

Here in New Hampshire, we’ve seen lawmakers push book-ban bills year after year. Their latest effort, SB 434, is now headed to a full House vote. Most voters want decisions about books made locally, not by state politicians or well-funded outside groups that have made book censoring into a national campaign. The state already has policies allowing parents to opt their child out of books and lessons they object to. This bill goes further by opening the door to removing books from every child based on one person’s beliefs. 

I’ve heard politicians talk about “parental rights” and “choice” when introducing these book bans, but you don’t need to ban books to do that. You can just be a good parent by paying attention and staying involved with your child. As parents, we can absolutely take a look at what our kids are reading. We can drive them to the library, walk the stacks with them and talk on the way home. That’s what real parental involvement looks like. Being an active parent means earning trust so your child feels comfortable coming to you, and keeping conversations that books make possible open.

So when I hear politicians frame censorship as a parenting right, it’s hypocritical. They claim to want parents in charge, but instead of letting parents decide what’s best, they’re pushing policies that make kids feel like they don’t belong. These are stories that many of us grew up with, that shape our culture, build moral values and instill the priorities we want to pass on to our children. We all want well-rounded kids who feel good about themselves, but these bans only make that harder. While politicians talk about parenting rights, they’re attacking the tools and spaces that make parenting possible. 

SB 434 is part of a broader agenda, and books are just the beginning. Last year, state legislators nearly defunded the State Council on the Arts, which many small libraries depended on for programming. I’ve seen firsthand how politicians are creating a culture of fear among librarians and teachers, who are left wondering what will happen if they speak up. The stakes are even greater in rural areas and small towns like mine, where families turn to libraries for help in teaching children about our complex and diverse society. When those resources disappear, it’s the communities with the fewest options that feel it most.

I’m constantly reminded that you don’t know what you don’t know unless you’re exposed to it. So I ask fellow parents to visit their local library and see what’s actually there. The moment you step inside, you feel that this is one place in our cities and towns where everyone belongs.

Then take it a step further: call on Gov. Ayotte and every member of the House to vote no on SB 434. Share a story of a book that impacted your life, because when politicians and outside groups take away those stories, they rip apart a community in ways they might not even realize.

Nancy Glynn currently serves as a selectwoman for the town of Sutton and serves on the Kearsarge School Board. Since 2021, she has chaired the Sutton Free Library Board of Trustees. As co-senior director with MomsRising, she has led fellowship programs since 2018 and mentored hundreds of Granite Staters in values-based organizing.