Banned Books Week

And The Bigger Conversation About Censorship We Should All Be Having

As Banned Books Week comes to a close, a discrepancy in my own social media analytics raises questions about censorship that I think we should all be asking. I regularly cross-post the same content across platforms, so when my Banned Books Week posts received noticeably fewer views on Instagram and Threads, while TikTok performed closer to my usual numbers, it caught my attention.

Those numbers alone don’t prove censorship. But during a week dedicated to protecting the freedom to read, they prompted another question: how much visibility do conversations about that freedom receive on the platforms we use to share them?

Banned Books Week asks us to pay attention to the stories people are trying to keep others from reading. That matters because removing a book does more than clear a space on a shelf. It limits the opportunity to encounter unfamiliar experiences, wrestle with difficult ideas, and decide for ourselves what we think.

This year, Banned Books Week runs October 4–10, with the theme “Let Books Be. Protect the Freedom to Read.” It is an invitation to celebrate reading and to question who gets to control access to it.

For writers and creators, that conversation extends beyond the library. Many of us use social media to defend the freedom to read. But what happens when those posts barely reach anyone?

Why shining a light on book censorship matters

A book can depict something disturbing without endorsing it. Stories about racism can expose injustice. Stories that include abuse can help readers recognize harm. Taking an uncomfortable passage out of its larger context risks losing the very lesson the author is trying to communicate.

Readers should be able to criticize books. Parents should be involved in their children’s reading. Neither requires giving one person’s objections automatic authority over everyone else’s access.

The harm of censorship is especially clear when a reader loses access to a story that makes them feel understood. For someone whose experiences rarely appear in the books around them, that loss can carry a painful message: your story is something to hide.

Banned Books Week gives us an opportunity to challenge that message. Sharing a challenged title or explaining why it matters can make an issue that feels abstract suddenly personal.

That is what I hoped to do with my own post.

One message, very different results

At the time of writing, the Instagram post on my account, a.c.p.smith, had fewer than 100 views. The same post on TikTok, where I use the same handle, a.c.p.smith, had more than 400 views—a result more consistent with my typical TikTok performance.

On Threads, where my handle is acpsmith, my Banned Books Week post also received significantly fewer views than my other posts.

Two Meta platforms delivered disappointing results, while TikTok performed closer to what I expected. That was enough to make me wonder whether the subject matter affected distribution.

These are my own analytics, however, and they show a difference in visibility rather than its cause. Instagram and TikTok have different audiences and distribution systems. Their view counts are not a controlled comparison. Posting time, format, early engagement, and the amount of time each post has been live could also affect the results.

I cannot honestly turn those numbers into proof that Meta is censoring Banned Books Week content. I can say they prompted a reasonable question about how conversations concerning censorship are reaching readers.

What Meta’s policies tell us—and what they don’t

There is a documented reason to ask about the treatment of social issues on Meta’s platforms.

In February 2024, Meta announced that Instagram and Threads would stop proactively recommending political content from accounts users did not follow. Its description included content potentially related to laws, elections, and social issues. That policy concerned recommendations; it did not mean all such posts were removed.

That timeline matters. In January 2025, Meta announced a change toward recommending more political content through a personalized approach. In the same announcement, the company acknowledged that its moderation systems had made mistakes and restricted harmless content.

The older policy therefore cannot explain my current results by itself. Neither announcement establishes that my posts were classified as political, restricted, or otherwise penalized.

What they do show is that platform decisions about distribution deserve scrutiny. A post can remain available while reaching relatively few people. From a creator’s perspective, understanding why that happened can be difficult.

Creators deserve clearer answers

A disappointing post does not automatically mean a shadow ban. But creators should be able to investigate unusual results without being dismissed.

The next step is better documentation: recording views at comparable intervals, comparing several similar posts within each platform, and checking for any account or recommendation notices. A repeated pattern would provide stronger grounds for investigation than one cross-platform comparison.

For now, my experience raises a question rather than settles it. Are posts about book censorship receiving less visibility because of ordinary audience behavior, or is some aspect of platform distribution contributing?

That distinction matters. Challenging censorship requires care with evidence, too.

Meanwhile, the purpose of Banned Books Week remains urgent. We can read challenged books, support our libraries, and talk about what these stories offer readers. We can also build ways to reach people beyond a single social feed.

My post may have reached fewer people than I hoped. But the freedom to read is still worth talking about.

About the Author

Ashley is a military wife and mother who can often be found listening to an audiobook while driving the mom taxi, desperate to cling to sanity through the joy of escapism. Her love of reading inspired her return to school, and she is currently finishing her bachelor’s degree in creative writing at Southern New Hampshire University. Being a mother does not mean you have to give up your dreams, and her story is still being written.