To go or not to go? That was the question.

Last summer, I was contacted by a Missouri private school’s director of counseling services—I’ll call her “TJ”—who wanted every student at her school to meet a “real live author.” After visiting my website, TJ concluded that I had a lot to offer her students and extended a lovely invitation.

We agreed on a date for spring 2025. I would give five presentations: one to pre–K classes, one to grades K–4, one to grades 5–8, and one to grades 9–12, plus a community-wide presentation in the evening. We negotiated my fee and everything sounded fine.

And then Election Day came and went, and suddenly everything was up in the air. I had to think long and hard about being a visiting author in a conservative state that has enacted anti-LGBTQ+ legislation and been on the forefront of book banning and censorship attempts. According to PEN America, Missouri ranks in the top five states for book bans. I did some research and found that the state enacted a law in 2022 that “bans any depiction or description of sexually explicit material, which includes sexual intercourse, genitalia, or ‘sadomasochistic abuse.’” Upon further reading, I discovered that it also makes it a “misdemeanor for school officials (educators, librarians, student teachers, coaches) or any visitor to a school, to distribute material to students deemed ‘harmful to minors.’”

When I read this, my gut clenched. I am the author of picture books that celebrate the LGBTQ+ community: Heather Has Two Mommies; Mommy, Mama, and Me; and Daddy, Papa, and Me, among others. I am also the author of a young adult novel in verse, October Mourning: A Song for Matthew Shepard, which explores the brutal murder of an out gay college student and its impact on the world. While none of these books contains “any depiction or description of sexually explicit material, which includes sexual intercourse, genitalia, or ‘sadomasochistic abuse’” I wondered if any of my books could be considered “harmful to minors,” a term widely open to interpretation.

I called TJ to talk this over. I was astonished to learn that she was not aware of Missouri’s law. She admitted that the school had previously received complaints from parents. “We’ve never had a protest at the school,” she said, “but we have received angry emails.” My gut tightened further. Angry emails are one thing. But given the current climate, it is easy to imagine that someone who would have written an angry email in the past might now feel emboldened to take further action.

To go or not to go?

I found myself thinking out loud of ways to get around these restrictions. I could present my “harmless” books about animals (1-2-3 Catsor Where Is Bear? ) to the pre-K and grades 1–4 groups. For grades 5–8, I could present my middle grade historical novel, Hachiko Waits, which tells the true story of a noble dog who lived in Japan.

In other words, I could play it safe.

But playing it safe has never really worked for me. I tried once during a school visit in Virginia, where I’d been invited to discuss Hachiko Waits. Upon arrival, I was accosted by the principal, who forbade me to mention any of my other books or my “lifestyle.” I told him that my presentation was solely about Hachiko, but if a student asked me about my other books, I would not lie. To let me speak or not to let me speak—that was the principal’s question. He finally decided the show must go on, and it did without a hitch. Until the end of my presentation, when a fourth grader raised her hand and shouted with glee, “You wrote Heather Has Two Mommies! I have two mommies! It’s my favorite book!” And then she ran across the room to give me a hug.

So much for playing it safe—which I couldn’t do this time anyway with grades 9–12, since TJ was interested in my presentation “It Takes a Village to Raise an Author and Activist.” In this talk, I discuss key events that have influenced my writing: the challenges to Heather Has Two Mommies, which was the ninth-most banned book of the 1990s; the AIDS crisis, which motivated me to write the children’s book Too Far Away to Touch; the assassination of Harvey Milk, which inspired my short story collection A Letter to Harvey Milk; the marriage equality movement, which sparked the children’s book Donovan’s Big Day; and Matthew Shepard’s murder, the event that caused me to write October Mourning.

And even if I did come up with a different talk that featured only my “harmless” books, would my very presence at the school be protested? This happened to me when I was invited by a New York City Jewish day school to discuss my book Gittel’s Journey: An Ellis Island Story. The morning before my appearance, I was told that suddenly a school-wide field trip was scheduled for the following day. This did not ring true. When I pressed the school librarian for details, she admitted that there was no field trip. A parent had looked me up on the internet and did not want me—an out lesbian—at her child’s school, no matter what I did or did not talk about.

But back to Missouri. I suggested to TJ that we have an opt-out option for my presentation (she told me the school had done this before). To protect myself and the school—it never occurred to TJ that the school could be targeted—I also suggested providing parents with a list of the books I would be discussing.

TJ said she would speak to her team, so I spoke to mine. I consulted an ACLU attorney who said any charge brought against me would most likely not hold up in court. Even so, would I want to chance putting myself through that? Next I called some other authors of LGBTQ+ children’s literature. Some said they would go without question; others said it wasn’t worth the risk. All of them said, “Trust your gut.”

Some say I am a warrior for writing the books that I write. That may be, but I am also a worrier. My gut churned with anxiety. When TJ sent an email saying the school was “postponing your visit until better times,” my disappointment was mixed with relief.

What upsets me most about these situations is that those who really miss out are the students. I am sure some students at the Missouri school have LGBTQ+ family members. I am sure some students there identify as queer (the school does have a Gender and Sexuality Alliance). I hope these students and their friends will find their way to the books they need: books that offer a vision of a world in which everybody, no matter who they are and who they love, have a place in this world. And I hope someday authors of those books will be welcomed at their school with wide-open arms.

Lesléa Newman is the author of more than 50 books for children and teens, including Joyful Song: A Naming Story and Heather Has Two Mommies.