The Cowardice of Anonymous Book Challenges
It takes real nerve to try and control what other people’s children can read. But you know what it doesn’t take?
Courage.
Because the people pushing book bans in our schools have made sure they never have to face accountability for their actions.
These challengers—many of whom don’t even have children in the schools they target—have demanded a legal shield to keep their names hidden. Why? Because they don’t want their communities to know who is making these decisions. They want to erase books that feature LGBTQ+ people and people of color, but they don’t want to be called out for their blatant bigotry.
This isn’t hypothetical—it already happened.
In Johnston, Iowa, a member of Moms for Liberty challenged books in the school district, despite not having a child in the school. But she didn’t expect to be called out—by a middle school student. A student wrote an editorial in the school yearbook highlighting the racism and homophobia driving these book bans. And she couldn’t handle it.
Rather than defending her actions or admitting what she was doing, she ran to her friends in the Iowa Legislature and demanded protection. Enter SF496, a law that ensures the names of book challengers remain confidential. It was written to shield people like her—people who want to control what students can read but refuse to stand behind their own actions.
But here’s the real kicker: while these book banners demand anonymity for themselves, they have no problem attacking anyone who stands up against them.
Members of Annie’s Foundation, an organization that fights for intellectual freedom and students’ right to read, have been relentlessly harassed by the very people who push book bans. These extremists frequently label us “groomers” and “pedophiles,” simply because we defend students’ access to diverse literature. They don’t stop at name-calling either. They’ve called our employers. They’ve suggested we should be arrested. They weaponize fear and misinformation to try to silence those who stand up to them.
Here’s the difference:
we don’t hide.
We stand behind our words. We fight in the open. We don’t demand anonymity to protect us from criticism, because we believe in the importance of what we’re doing. Meanwhile, the book banners cower in secrecy, manipulating the system to avoid accountability for their actions.
And here’s something every parent should think about:
If you were a parent of a child in a class where someone was challenging your student’s curriculum to remove important books that teach about racism, history, and identity, wouldn’t you want to know who was behind it?
Wouldn’t you want to know if that person:
- Was a member of an anti-government extremist group with ties to Project 2025—a far-right plan to dismantle public education, erase LGBTQ+ rights, and gut civil liberties?
- Had felony convictions for possession and manufacturing of meth, and was convicted of endangering her own children while driving drunk—yet somehow feels qualified to dictate what your child can read?
- Uses coded language that is a wink and a nod to being a white nationalist—while pretending their motives are “just about the kids”?
- Doesn’t even have children in the school they’re interfering with—but still feels entitled to make decisions that impact your child’s education?
- Serves on the board of an organization like Inspired Life—a group dedicated to inserting religion into public schools and pushing private school vouchers to undermine public education?
Because these are the kinds of people pushing for book bans in our schools. And they fought for a law that keeps their identities secret—because they know that if their communities knew who they really were, their arguments wouldn’t hold up.
Book banning has never been about protecting children. It’s about fear, control, and erasure. And now, thanks to laws like SF496, it’s about cowardice.
If these book challengers were truly acting in good faith, they wouldn’t need the cover of anonymity. They would stand behind their words. Instead, they’ve rigged the system to let them dictate what’s in school libraries and classrooms—without ever having to answer for it.
If they had any real confidence in what they were doing, they wouldn’t be afraid to put their names on it.
We do.