Like many attendees, I arrived in Philadelphia for this year’s American Library Association’s annual meeting with a heavy heart. Just hours before the show began on June 26, we learned that the Supreme Court had ruled in favor of Maryland parents seeking the right to withdraw their children from classroom discussions involving books with LGBTQ+ themes. Books by and about marginalized people have disproportionately been targeted by censors in recent years, and librarians—already facing an uphill battle defending intellectual freedom—have their work cut out for them.

To say it’s been a hard year for librarians is putting it lightly. President Donald Trump has essentially declared war on libraries. He’s attempted to dismantle the Institute of Museum and Library Services, a federal agency that funds libraries across the U.S., and in May, he fired Librarian of Congress Carla Hayden, the first woman and first African American to hold the position. 

Librarians are feeling overburdened as censorship ramps up across the country. Over the course of the four-day meeting, I spoke to several who didn’t put out Pride displays in June, because to do so would be to invite attempted bans. But, on the whole, librarians are facing these challenges the way they confront any issue—with courage, fierce optimism, and grit. As Paula Willey, senior manager of collection and project development at the nonprofit organization First Book, told me, “Compliance in advance is surrender.”

The conference was just what librarians—and those who support them—needed to keep our spirits lifted. The City of Brotherly Love is widely considered to be the site of the United States’ first library , the Library Company of Philadelphia; it’s also where, in 1876, the ALA was founded, and library pride was evident everywhere I turned.

Addressing attendees during the conference’s opening session, Michigan governor Gretchen Whitmer—author of the book True Gretch (and, recently, its young adult edition)—fired up the crowd by discussing the obstacles she’s faced, from a sexual assault in college to rude and dismissive remarks from fellow politicians, including President Trump. “I have found that humor is a good way to disarm a bully. You take their weapon, and you make it your shield, whether they say you are batshit crazy or they call you ‘that woman from Michigan.’”

Librarians spoke about creative ways they are promoting intellectual freedom. At the panel “Free Children Read Freely: Banned Books in Story Times for Young Readers,” Rachel G. Payne and Jessica Ralli spoke about Freedom To Read, a program they run at the Brooklyn Public Library. Their storytimes involve reading aloud picture books that have been challenged, starting age-appropriate discussions about bans, creating interactive bookmarks or posters, and sharing resources to combat censorship.

One of the most stirring events of the conference was a conversation between Hayden and Newbery Medalist Kwame Alexander (The Crossover). Hayden’s termination was a devastating loss for the library and literary community, and Alexander read aloud a list of emotional responses from librarians and authors: “Unsettling, anger, sadness, disrespect…It’s just empty sadness.…It was crap.” That last one prompted Hayden to quip, “Was that my mom?”

Hayden was both wryly humorous and candid as she unpacked her own response to that fateful day. “[I’d] never been fired before. I was like, Oh, OK. Usually there’s a process. I’ve been involved in management for a little while.”

She says she was especially discouraged by White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt’s statement that “there were quite concerning things that [Hayden] had done at the Library of Congress in the pursuit of DEI and putting inappropriate books in the library for children.” Hayden said, “What was disheartening was the apparent lack of recognition of the fact that the Library of Congress is a national library” that doesn’t circulate books to the public.

The discussion concluded with Hayden opening up about everything from her fashion sense to her favorite and least favorite foods. Dismayed to learn of Hayden’s hatred of brussels sprouts, Alexander waxed rhapsodic about the late poet Nikki Giovanni’s recipe for the vegetable. To enthusiastic applause, Hayden responded, “That doesn’t mean that you can’t eat them. Diversity is just having choices”—a pointed rejoinder to those who would oppose intellectual freedom.

Although the mood was often serious, attendees found time to cut loose. Decked out in a cowboy hat and boots and a fringed blue shirt, C.G. Esperanza accepted the Coretta Scott King Illustrator Award for My Daddy Is a Cowboy, written by Stephanie Seales. Afterward, the artist hosted a quick trivia contest. Audience members who knew, for instance, which ethnic group rode Barb horses while conquering Spain during the eighth century (the Berbers) or the name of the Black cowboy who created the rodeo event known as bulldogging (Bill Pickett) received original art from the book.

As a book review editor, I’m never more excited than when I can talk to the creators whose work I love. I chatted with author/illustrator Nikkolas Smith, whose recent picture book The History of We traces humanity’s origins back to Africa. Smith, who’s frequently written and illustrated works about Black history, is no stranger to book bans. But he refuses to back down. As censors ramp up their efforts, he vows to keep creating literature that’s honest with readers. “Because we clearly need it more than ever,” he says, “and so I think it’s something that I just have to be pushing for.”

Throughout the conference, I was reminded that librarianship is, above all, about community. Hayden’s words of encouragement particularly resonated with me: “Look at us. We’re here, and we’re comforting each other.”

I felt that sense of togetherness most strongly at the Newbery-Caldecott-Legacy Awards Banquet. Accepting the Newbery Medal for The First State of Being, Erin Entrada Kelly spoke about her diagnosis of breast cancer. Though the experience was terrifying and painful, she took strength in the messages she received from her fans.

“I’m talking about people I have never even met,” she said. “People who know me only through my books. And the reason it is possible for readers to know me in that way…is because of the people in this room. Librarians, educators, activists. You who put books into the hands of readers and fight for their right to access the stories they need, when they need them, and champion anti-censorship and the freedom to read. There are many writers and illustrators in this room, and I believe I speak for all of them when I say: Without you, they never would have known us. More importantly, we never would have known them.”

Mahnaz Dar is a young readers’ editor.