Opinion: Appointed county school board grants itself 'sole authority' over library content; some residents push back

A sign on a road in Hanover County, where a battle is underway over a
push for an elected school board. (Photo by Greg Sargent, Washington Post)

America is no stranger to censorship, with the first U.S. book ban dating back to 1637. Some counties, such as Hanover County, Virginia, have a long history of the practice, writes Greg Sargent in his opinion for The Washington Post. In 1966, its school board removed To Kill a Mockingbird from shelves, and this year, it "removed at least 20 books after granting itself sole authority over library content. Last spring, it renamed a school christened after a Black historical figure," but some residents are resisting the bans in what is shaping up to be "A nasty fight in a rural Virginia school district."

In response, the "Hanover Citizens for an Elected School Board" is campaigning to "take away county officials' power to appoint school board members, who are otherwise insulated from public accountability. Unelected boards are rooted in the state's Jim Crow past, as they were sometimes used to keep Black residents out," Sargent writes. "The case for an elected board in Hanover County, which stretches from Richmond's suburbs into outlying rural areas and backed Donald Trump in 2020 by 26 points, is strong. . . . It is one of only a dozen school boards in the state that are still appointed — and it's the largest among those."

"More residents started joining the push for elected boards last spring. First, the board voted to give itself sole authority over book-banning decisions for school libraries — and then promptly started nixing books from circulation, including several with LGBTQ+ themes," Sargent adds. "Liberal-leaning Kelly Merrill, a University of Richmond professor with a transgender teenager, said she was angered when the school board voted against accommodations for trans students."

"This saga goes back a century. At the Virginia Constitutional Convention of 1901-1902, delegates shut down a proposal for elected school boards after opponents made clear they believed that would give too much 'negro' control over the schools. . . . In the 1950s, the General Assembly retaliated against Arlington County's board (the only one at the time that was permitted to elect members) by revoking that status in favor of appointments. This ratified the idea of appointed boards as a bulwark defending segregation," Sargent writes. 

Historian Peyton McCrary told Sargent, "Appointed boards were part and parcel of how the Jim Crow system operated in Virginia." Sargent adds, "In Hanover, liberals and even some conservatives are mindful of that dark past. This fall, if residents vote to give themselves the power to hold school board members accountable moving forward, it will be another step toward repudiating it."