Every February, Americans observe Black History Month – a time to highlight the history, achievements, and voices of Black Americans whose stories are often overlooked in traditional textbooks. It is a chance for communities to learn, reflect, and discover authors and perspectives that deepen our understanding of the country we share.
That is why it was so disappointing to read the announcements of the PPLD board of directors to intentionally censor our region’s Black history celebration this February and see no visible displays recognizing Black History Month. For many readers, those displays are more than decorations. They are invitations. They point us toward new books, new authors, and new ideas. They encourage curiosity and discovery in ways that are simple but incredibly powerful.
Libraries are one of the few public spaces where everyone – students, parents, retirees, lifelong learners – can walk in and be exposed to stories they may not have known existed. A table of recommended books can spark a young reader’s interest in history, help an adult discover an author they’ve never read, or encourage someone to learn about experiences very different from their own.
When those displays are missing, an opportunity for learning quietly disappears.
Before the work I do today, one of my careers was as a high school World History teacher. Teaching that subject often meant working around the limitations of the textbooks placed in front of my students. If I’m being blunt, most of those books could be summarized in a single sentence: there was a war, a lot of people died, and an old rich man ended up controlling more land, wealth, or power.
Kings, generals, and empires filled the pages. The rest of humanity was often treated like background scenery.
Women, workers, artists, thinkers, inventors, and communities who shaped culture and society were rarely given the same attention. When they did appear, it was often in a small sidebar or labeled as an “additional perspective.”
One of my teaching evaluations once praised me for “bringing in supplemental information about women.”
“Supplemental.”
Half the population of the planet described as “supplemental information?”
That comment stuck with me because it perfectly captured the frustration many of us feel when we look at how history has traditionally been told. Women are not supplemental. Black Americans are not supplemental. The majority of humanity should not have to fight to be included in the story of humanity.
And that is exactly why public libraries matter so much.
Libraries have the ability to fill the gaps left behind by outdated textbooks. They can highlight voices that were intentionally ignored, celebrate authors who changed literature and culture, and encourage readers to explore perspectives that make our understanding of history more complete.
Even something as simple as a reading list or a display table can accomplish that.
If readers notice something missing, they should speak up and insist on something as basic as a few thoughtfully curated reading lists at their library. That is not a radical request. It is exactly what libraries exist to do – connect people with knowledge.
And here in Colorado, the absence of those conversations feels even more ironic.
Our state has a proud history connected to civil rights. Colorado was the first state where women were granted the right to vote by popular vote in 1893 – decades before the passage of the Nineteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution. Colorado women helped lead a movement that would eventually transform the entire nation. William Jackson Palmer, the founder of Colorado Springs, fought for the Union Army and to end slavery, and would not allow segregation in his city. Fannie Mae Duncan and her Cotton Club brought in all the greatest jazz musicians and stopped segregation again.
Additionally, right here in our own backyard, the Equal Rights Amendment was publicly read by Alice Paul, in the majestic setting of Garden of the Gods more than a century ago. Activists stood among those red rock formations and declared something that should have been obvious: women deserve equal protection under the law.
More than 100 years later, that amendment still has not been fully recognized as part of the U.S. Constitution.
Even more astonishing, the Constitution itself never once mentions the word “woman.”
Think about that. The founding document of our country does not explicitly name half of the population it governs.
That is exactly why representation in education and public spaces matters. When voices are left out, when stories are ignored, when contributions are treated as optional, it shapes how people understand the world around them.
Libraries can help correct that.
They are one of the few institutions whose entire purpose is expanding knowledge and curiosity. They help readers find books they didn’t know they needed, explore perspectives they hadn’t considered, and learn the deeper, more complicated truth about the past.
A display for Black History Month. A reading list highlighting women’s voices. A shelf celebrating local civil rights history. None of these things are difficult to create. But each one sends a powerful message: the story of humanity belongs to all of us.
Our libraries should reflect that truth. And our community should expect nothing less.
Liz Rosenbaum is a herstorian, community organizer and health care advocate.