I saw a post on my NextDoor app recently that really got me riled up. Someone was complaining about the money spent to build our new library when, in their opinion, the old library was perfectly fine.
At first, I scrolled by.
I spent years working in community relations for a large library system, where part of my job was making the case that the library was worth the community’s investment. Here we go again, I thought. Same argument against library funding.
Then I scrolled back up.
I saw dozens of comments in defense of the library. People gave example after example of why they love the library, from free books and streaming services, to free internet, storytime, classes and programs. Nearly every argument for the library focused on what they got from it. Which makes sense. It’s an argument I often used myself. Libraries offer tremendous value, and many of the resources and services they provide offer a very real lifeline. We should tell those stories, but we shouldn’t stop there.
Because right after the comments about why people love the library came this one, a version of which I’ve heard more than once:
“In this age, I think libraries are a waste of money. You can get everything you need off the internet. If you need books, buy them at a used bookstore.”
On both sides of the argument, everyone focused on the transactional nature of the library – what the library provides that someone might lack. I’ve made that case myself when showing the value of the library. But it’s only part of the equation. By promoting the long list of what someone can get for free at their library, we inadvertently create a division in our own communities – between the people who need the library and everyone else. If I can afford to buy books, and pay for classes, subscriptions, and streaming services, what is the library for me? By that rationale, the library’s value depends on whether you can afford substitutes for what the library offers.
And while I’m certainly not suggesting we stop sharing all the ways the library helps people with what they lack, it can’t be the entire story. Because the library is more than a building that contains books for people who can’t afford them.
Library Card Sign-Up Month gives us an opportunity to tell a bigger story.
What if in addition to promoting the transactional value of a library to a parent, a caregiver, a reader, or a community, we said to everyone, “This is your library. Even if you rarely check out a book. Even if you don’t have children to bring to storytime. Even if you can afford every subscription or resource we offer. You belong here.”
There’s a subtle yet important distinction between being open to all and making everyone feel that the library is meant for them. That they belong there. No need required. It’s a shift from knowing all the things I can get from the library to knowing all the ways the library helps me belong to my community, just by walking through the door. It’s a reminder that by sharing a public space, I’m experiencing what it means to be a community. And that all of that has immeasurable value to society.
During Library Card Sign-Up Month, let’s go beyond sharing stats of how much taxpayers save using their card. Let’s also ask ourselves, “What are we doing that makes people feel like this is their library and they belong here?” Then, our libraries will truly be open to all.
Kathy Lussier is Director, Product Content & Services, at NoveList. She’s listening to, The Love of My Life by Rosie Walsh.
“This is your library. Even if you rarely check out a book. Even if you don’t have children to bring to storytime. Even if you can afford every subscription or resource we offer. You belong here.”
“This is your library. Even if you rarely check out a book. Even if you don’t have children to bring to storytime. Even if you can afford every subscription or resource we offer. You belong here.”