Public libraries across the Carolinas are increasingly becoming flash points in a growing effort to restrict access to LGBTQ+ books, particularly those involving transgender people and young readers. Recent actions in both North Carolina and South Carolina show how disputes over individual titles are escalating into broader moves to reshape library leadership, policy and access in ways critics describe as censorship.

In Randolph County, North Carolina, the entire county library board was dissolved in December after trustees voted in October to keep “Call Me Max,” a children’s picture book about a transgender boy, in the children’s section. The decision followed a formal review that found the book met the library’s collection policies. Despite that process, the Randolph County Board of Commissioners voted 3–2 to dismiss all members of the library’s board of trustees, a step allowed under state law but rarely used in response to a single book decision.

The vote came after a public hearing attended by roughly 200 residents, with speakers split between those demanding the book’s removal and those urging commissioners to respect the library’s review procedures. County officials have not announced when or how the board will be reconstituted, leaving the library without independent oversight.

Advocates for free speech and expression described the move as a serious escalation. Keisha Williams, director of communications for the ACLU of North Carolina, said dissolving a library board over a single book amounts to retaliation for protecting access to information. “Public libraries exist to serve entire communities, not to enforce ideological conformity or erase the lived experiences of LGBTQ+ people,” Williams said, warning that such actions threaten the freedom to read.

“Call Me Max,” written by author Kyle Lukoff, tells the story of a young transgender boy asking his teacher to use his chosen name. The book has been banned or restricted in several school districts and was referenced by Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis in 2022 while promoting legislation limiting classroom discussions of gender identity. The U.S. Department of Defense has also removed the book from military-run schools, placing it at the center of national debates over LGBTQ+ visibility.

Lukoff, who is transgender, has said the Randolph County episode shows how policy safeguards can be overridden when political power is involved. Libraries followed their own rules, he noted, and were still punished, underscoring how decisions about access are increasingly shaped by officials rather than professionals.

Just south of the state line, York County, South Carolina, took a different but related approach. The York County Library Board of Trustees also voted this month 6–1 to adopt a new collection development policy allowing children’s and teen materials that address “gender identity” or other “mature themes” to be relocated to adult sections. The policy defines gender identity as an individual’s self-declared identity that may not align with biological sex.

Under the revised policy, books with LGBTQ+ themes may still be available but could be harder for young readers to find without adult assistance. Board Chair Timothy Steele said the changes were meant to give librarians clearer guidance and framed them as “common sense.” Critics argue the policy sidelines LGBTQ+ stories by making them less visible, especially to young people seeking information independently.

Residents speaking at board meetings raised concerns about LGBTQ+ youth losing access to affirming materials. Several parents and grandparents emphasized that diverse stories help young people understand themselves and others, while some warned the policy could open the county to legal challenges. Similar litigation is already underway in Greenville County, where statewide education rules have led to book removals.

That case, brought by the ACLU of South Carolina, challenges a state regulation requiring schools to remove any material that “describes or depicts sexual conduct.” Critics argue the language is overly broad. Since the rule took effect, more than 20 books have been restricted or removed from South Carolina schools, including All Boys Aren’t Blue and The Perks of Being a Wallflower, even when used for educational purposes.

Taken together, the actions in Randolph and York counties show how battles over individual books are giving way to wider efforts to control library systems. Officials are reshaping policies, boards, and review processes that determine what stories are available and where. Advocates warn these strategies still have lasting consequences, narrowing access, chilling professional judgment and redefining what audience libraries are allowed to serve.

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