Hi, Miss Julie

(Sing the title to the tune of Jive Talkin’)

What is a library?

Webster’s dictionary defines a library as–

Ha no I’m not doing that. That’s tired.

WIRED let’s talk about what libraries are NOT:

• schools
• daycares
• shelters
• warehouses for books
• gyms
• hunting grounds for pickup artists
• playgrounds
• NEUTRAL
• holy
• always fully staffed
• always fully funded
• understood
• the reason your tax bill is so high
• mental health facilities
• drug treatment centers
• the answer to and cause of all society’s problems
• where the books you’ve saved from your meemaw’s house go to retire

Throughout my career, I’ve given several talks about scope creep in librarianship. Before Twitter died, one of my favorite past times was writing long threads about how much I hated the cries of “We’re more than books!” Like, sure, libraries offer more than books. But we sound desperate when we say that. We sound like we don’t believe in our purpose and mission.

Imagine if you went to the hospital and they were like, “We’re more than health care! Visit our yoga studio! Get a smoothie from the smoothie bar! Buy some designer scrubs and a poster of Jonas Salk in the gift shop! Take a selfie in our photo booth and try our medical filters–now including jaundice!” Are all of those things sort of related to health care? Sure. Do they serve the primary mission of a hospital? No.

Would a hospital like that be fine? Sure, as long as all the other stuff was getting taken care of to a high standard. But imagine you went to this hospital and every time you had an appointment, you had a different doctor because they couldn’t hold onto employees, your medicine was always out of stock, and they never offered the most cutting edge treatment because they never had any money for professional development or investing in new equipment. But hey, who needs medicine when you can get a smoothie! The smoothie bar is always open, but the smoothies aren’t that great. And the yoga studio smells because they never clean the mats. And everything in the gift shop is pretty ugly because they can only afford low quality merchandise.

I’m sure you get the comparison I’m making. Unless you’re a library that’s absolutely crushing your core mission of providing access to information for your patrons, then why are you investing so much time and effort in being “more than books”? Does everyone you serve have an active library card? Is your building accessible to the disabled? Do you communicate to all stakeholders in a clear way that is easy to understand? Do you have adequate collections and spaces for all audiences, including teens, seniors, and those with intellectual and physical disabilities? Do you have adequate staffing without excessive turnover? Have you created a organization that’s free from legacy toxicity, where staff are paid fairly, where disabled employees thrive, where Black employees don’t face micro-aggressions? Have you moved past the flawed idea that libraries are neutral? Have you built strong, functional relationships with local schools, businesses, and other community partners, free from dysfunction and distrust? Until you have these things in place–and I can’t think of single library that is there–then walk away from the maker space, put down the bundt pan, and get your shit together.

During the pandemic I gave a couple of talks about trauma and resilience in library work, inspired by Bryce’s tireless advocacy. Also during the last couple of years, Merdith Farkas’s work on Slow Librarianship has filled me with a keen longing for a different world, and Bobbi Newman has given valuable advice on how to take care of ourselves in the one that currently exists. And Fobozi Ettarah’s writing on Vocational Awe has given me much needed perspective on who I am versus what I do.

But I’m frustrated by the lack of change I’ve seen in the profession. If anything, things have only gotten worse, and will continue to do so. And I lay much of the blame at the feet of library leaders–many of whom haven’t been doing a lot of leading, in my opinion. If they were, we wouldn’t need the work of the aforementioned librarians as much as we have. Why is Kelly Jensen doing more to talk about how to actually fight back against book banning and censorship than our national, state, and local library organizations? Where are the library directors putting out statements to share what is actually going on with censorship in their own communities? Why aren’t directors and boards speaking frankly about misinformation and the targeted destruction of public libraries?

In future posts I want to explore further how libraries failed their communities this past election cycle. Because we did. And I believe that there is one underlying cause: fear on the part of leaders. Library directors, managers, and boards have been too afraid to do the hard work and have the difficult conversations, and so they’ve failed their organizations and their workers.

The lack of ethical courage at the leadership level is astounding for a profession that loves to wrap itself up in a nice warm blanket of vocational awe and nice white (majority lady) ineffectiveness. Oh, no, don’t put that Pride display up– someone might leave me an angry voicemail! Oh, no, we can’t talk about anything related to the election–it’s too divisive!

I don’t have any power. I’m not a manager or a director. I’m not a mover and shaker. I might end up not being able to work in libraries ever again because no one is willing to hire a disabled change-maker who can’t shut up. But I do have a voice and a conscience and I can’t stand to sit idly by while damage is being done on a massive scale. If what I am saying is making you feel uncomfortable, good. Sit with it. You’re the ones who needs to hear this.

And when you’ve finally listened, it’s going to be your turn to speak up.