Are You There, God? It’s Me Nancy.
While Alberta is the current battleground, this isn’t just a provincial issue. What’s happening here is part of a much larger movement. A deliberate push to drag us back to some imagined “better time” the kind of sanitized, patriarchal past that Donald Trump has built his entire political brand around. And now that same “make it great again” mindset is leaking north, into our schools, our politics, and even our school libraries.
There are a number of books I grew up with, and still hold close, that are now somehow in question. And honestly? I find that profound. Disturbing. Even dystopian.
Harry Potter is under attack. A Wrinkle in Time is “controversial.” To Kill a Mockingbird and Of Mice and Men, classics that exposed racism, poverty, and injustice, have been yanked off shelves in libraries across North America. And The Handmaid’s Tale? Honestly, that probably belongs in Social 30 as mandatory reading. It’s hardly even fiction anymore.
But the one that hits me hardest? Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. by Judy Blume. That book was my coming-of-age manual. It talked about things like puberty, periods, insecurity, bras, boys, and yes, even questioning religion. It was honest and awkward and wonderful. And it made me feel seen. I can’t imagine my pre-teen years without it. I also can’t imagine that the millions of people who read it somehow turned into deviants just because it dared to mention menstruation.
And yet, here we are. A time when books that deal with real experiences, LGBTQ+ identity, racial injustice, gender roles, trauma, faith, are being framed as threats. Not discussed. Not debated. Just… banned. There are books being targeted simply because they reference homosexuality. For some, that’s apparently enough to warrant removal from a library shelf. So I guess we should also be pulling the Bible out of schools too? I mean, if we’re banning things with sex, violence, and controversial ideas, it fits the bill. No?
I used to think this kind of censorship only happened in movies. In places far away. In ultra-conservative, evangelical Southern U.S. towns where dancing wasn’t allowed. You know, Footloose territory. But I live in Canada, well specifically Alberta. And lately, it’s starting to feel like I’m living in that very script, only this time, it’s real. Policies are being drafted. School boards are being pressured. Ministers of Education are drawing lines. Librarians are afraid.
And students? They’re being told that their realities are “too political” or “too inappropriate” to exist in print. I’ve used the phrase “evangelical right” more than once. Maybe that needs some nuance. Maybe not. Because when you strip away the branding, the strategy is clear: control the narrative, limit access to ideas, and silence anything that doesn’t fit the worldview.
The quiet but powerful Christian nationalist network in the US has influence stretching from Washington to local school boards. Throw in a little Dominionism, sprinkle in some Take Back Alberta, and voilà, you’re not in Footloose anymore. You’re in something far more organized right here in Alberta.
Let me tell you a story. I remember being about 12 or 13, and my parents, clearly uncomfortable having “the talk” handed me and my sister this four-volume set called the Life Cycle Library. Picture it: early 1970s, plain soft covers, cartoon illustrations of intercourse (not live action, don’t panic), and honest, clinical information about bodies, puberty, and yes, sex. It even gently touched on homosexuality.
This was over 50 years ago. In a conservative (Red Tory) household. And it was fine. It wasn’t shameful. It wasn’t corrupting. It was information. And it was given with trust that we could read it, think about it, and maybe even ask questions. That’s what books do. They inform. They stretch your understanding. They make awkward things a little less scary. And sometimes, they make you feel like you’re not alone.
When I was a kid, I devoured books. Not just Judy Blume or L.M. Montgomery, I read Dale Carnegie at 9 and was knee-deep in a medical conspiracy book called World Without Cancer by 12. Maybe that wasn’t typical. But the point is: I wasn’t censored, and I turned out okay. Mostly.
This isn’t a fringe debate anymore, it’s at our school board meetings, our provincial legislature, and our kitchen tables. It’s here. Now we have education ministers making sweeping declarations about which books don’t belong in schools. No clarity. No context. Just vague threats and moral panic. I don’t even know which of these “offending” books are actually in the schools and libraries. Is this a real purge or just political performance art? Either way, it’s dangerous. And it’s happening here.
If we don’t stand up for the right to read, the right to think, someone else will decide for us what our children aren’t allowed to know. If you’re scared of kids reading about periods or pronouns, maybe the problem isn’t the books. Maybe it’s the people banning them. Because this was never about protecting kids. It’s about controlling them. And once you start banning books, what you’re really banning is empathy, perspective, and truth.
That’s not moral leadership. That’s authoritarianism.
Nancy's Notes 