Censorship, But Make It American™
Let’s start with a fun fact: in 1958, the U.S. Supreme Court had to literally decide whether it was legal for a gay magazine to exist.
The case was One, Inc. v. Olesen, and the magazine in question was the first openly gay publication in the United States. The Postal Service had seized it, claiming it was “obscene.” Their evidence? It had stories about love between men. Not sex. Just love. One story, charmingly titled “Sappho Remembered,” talked about lesbian desire. That was enough to get it banned.
The Supreme Court reversed the ban in a single sentence — a win! But let’s not forget: it took a Supreme Court case to say “maybe gay people are allowed to speak.”
Welcome to the long, weird, and often infuriating history of censorship in America. It’s been homophobic, racist, moralizing, market-driven, and — just plain dumb. And yet here we are. In 2025. Still banning books. Still passing “Don’t Say Gay” laws. Still pretending that talking about queer people is somehow more dangerous than, I don’t know, guns.
Let’s talk about how we got here. And why it still matters.
Fade to Black: Censorship Goes to the Movies
Hollywood censorship dates back to the early 20th century, when people feared that cinema would corrupt the masses. (To be fair, they weren’t entirely wrong — I still want to dye my hair like Cruella De Vil.) But instead of rating movies, they banned entire subjects.
Enter the Hays Code, enforced from the 1930s through the late 1960s. It outlawed nudity, “sexual perversion” (read: any mention of homosexuality), interracial relationships, and basically anything that made the Catholic Church clutch its pearls.
Thou Shalt Not, a 1940 photo by Whitey Schafer deliberately subverting some of the Code's strictures
Queer characters didn’t disappear — they just became villains. Or punchlines. Or they tragically died. If you’ve ever wondered why so many old films hint at queerness but never say it outright, it’s because they weren’t allowed to. Camp survived. Subtext thrived. But representation? Gutted.
Even when the Hays Code was replaced by the MPAA rating system in 1968, censorship didn’t vanish — it just changed outfits. Films with LGBTQ+ themes were often slapped with an R or NC-17 rating, not because of sex or violence, but because of gayness. Meanwhile, straight movies with literal murder sprees breezed into theaters with a PG-13.
So yes, censorship may evolve. But its roots? They’re still planted in control — or a twisted morality. Whatever their roots, they grow in fear.
“Don’t Say Gay” and Other Reboots No One Asked For
Fast forward to today. Surely we’ve evolved, right?
In recent years, we’ve seen a shocking resurgence of censorship cloaked in “parental rights” and “protecting children.” Florida’s now-infamous “Don’t Say Gay” law (which restricts classroom discussion of LGBTQ+ topics) has inspired copycat bills across the country. Teachers are being told to strip rainbow stickers from their doors. Students are being outed. Books with LGBTQ+ characters are being banned at record rates.
According to PEN America, more than 4,000 book bans were enacted in U.S. public schools during the 2022–2023 school year alone. Many of those books featured queer protagonists, authors of color, or — God forbid — a transgender storyline. In other words: stories about kids being kids. The horror.
And it’s not just schools. The White House’s LGBTQ+ page was deleted in 2017. Drag bans are sweeping through red states. Even social media — our supposed digital utopia of free expression — regularly silences queer voices through shadowbanning, algorithmic bias, and inconsistent content moderation.
Censorship is alive and well, my friends. And it’s coming for anyone who lives outside the lines.
But Wait — Isn’t Some Censorship Good?
Let’s pause for a second.
I’m not saying we should be allowed to post everything. There are things worth limiting — like hate speech, child exploitation, or animal cruelty.
In fact, most of us agree that some guardrails are necessary. The problem isn’t the idea of moderation. It’s the wildly inconsistent and often politically motivated way it’s applied.
We say we want to protect children — but then ban books that help queer teens feel less alone. We flag drag shows as “inappropriate” — but let violent video games and assault rifles stroll on by. We deplatform trans creators for existing — while letting white supremacists monetize podcasts.
So sure, some limits make sense. But when censorship is used to erase lived experience — especially for marginalized people — it stops being protective. And starts being oppressive.
The Real Threat: Truth Telling
Here’s the thing about censorship: it rarely stops people from being. It just makes it harder to see them.
When you ban queer books, you don’t make queer kids disappear. You make them invisible. When you censor drag performers, you don’t protect children. You deprive them of joy, laughter, and radical self-expression. When you delete a post about queer liberation, you don’t stop the movement. You just delay it.
Censorship isn’t about silence — it’s about control. It’s about who gets to decide what counts as “appropriate.” And let’s be honest: that power has rarely been in queer hands.
But the good news? We’ve never needed permission to tell the truth.
This Is Not New (And Neither Are We)
Censorship always claims to be about now. “This is too radical.” “This is too confusing.” “This is too much, too soon.”
But queer people? We’ve always been here. Telling stories. Making art. Creating community. Whether in underground bars, blacklisted zines, coded slang, or TikTok dances, we’ve found ways to speak even when we’re told to shut up.
The real danger isn’t what happens when we say too much. It’s what happens when we say nothing.
“Your silence will not protect you.”
So What Do We Do?
We fight censorship the same way we always have: by telling the truth, louder. By buying banned books. By supporting queer creators. By showing up at school board meetings. By calling BS when people claim that a trans kid’s existence is “too political.”
We also call out hypocrisy. Because if your biggest threat is a drag queen reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar in heels, I regret to inform you that the real danger is your own fear of joy.
Just check out the work that Mary Lou Pearl (aka, Head Counselor, Blake Mitchell) is doing at Brave Trails. What could be more joyful than this?
And maybe, most importantly, we remember that censorship isn’t just about laws and bans. It’s about culture. What we normalize. What we allow. What we laugh off. So let’s get loud. Let’s make art. Let’s flood the feed with things that make people uncomfortable — and then maybe a little more free.
Because freedom of speech? It belongs to all of us. Even — and especially — the ones you’re trying to silence.