In Florida, Ron DeSantis’s 2024 law allows any resident—not just parents—to challenge school library books. The result? More than 700 titles removed in months. To Kill a Mockingbird. Beloved. Brave New World. Gone.
“This isn’t targeting obscenity. This is targeting perspective.” —Florida Freedom to Read Project
In Iowa, Senate File 496 took it further. It banned any book describing a “sex act.” The result: 1984, Ulysses, and The Kite Runner removed. A federal judge blocked the law in March 2025, noting it “resulted in forced removal of books… with undeniable literary value.”
The fight isn’t just over literature. It’s about cultural control—what students are allowed to feel, question, or imagine.
In January, the U.S. government banned TikTok nationwide for a day. A 2024 law required ByteDance to sell its U.S. operations or shut down. When the deadline passed, the app went dark—no hearing, no process. Just silence.
For twelve hours, the U.S. government turned off a major speech platform—because it could.
Hours later, Trump posted “SAVE TIKTOK!” and reversed the order. But the precedent was set.
On college campuses, the pressure is slower, but just as deliberate. Florida’s “Stop WOKE” Act bans DEI funding and requires state review of general education courses. Hundreds of classes have been cut or rewritten. Professors are guessing which words—race, gender, privilege—might draw heat.
In Texas, a student art exhibit sympathetic to Palestinians was pulled early. One piece, in Hebrew, read: “The murder of people = genocide.” It lasted two days.
“We feared for our futures if we didn’t take it down.” —Student artist, University of North Texas
The same pattern played out in D.C., where the Art Museum of the Americas canceled two shows—one on queer Caribbean identity, the other on the African diaspora—after Trump’s executive order targeting DEI in federally affiliated institutions.
“This isn’t budgeting. This is erasure.” —Cheryl D. Edwards, curator
It’s tempting to see these events as separate: a book pulled in Florida, an app banned in D.C., a class altered in Texas. But they’re not isolated. Together, they form a system: speech narrowed by policy, not debate.
The old American posture was: I hate what you say, but I’ll defend your right to say it. In 2025, that posture is breaking.
Trump’s promises to “open up” libel laws so he can sue the press may sound theatrical. But in a year when books disappear by algorithm and exhibits die in committee, it no longer feels far-fetched. It feels familiar.
This isn’t a purge. It’s erosion.
A course isn’t banned—it just isn’t offered.
A book isn’t torched—it’s left off the list.
An exhibit isn’t defunded—it’s simply… not approved.