The Legacy of the Library
In the summer of 2020, Sarah Kamya found herself on a number of long walks. The COVID-19 pandemic was a few months underway, and naturally, there wasn’t much else to be doing. On these walks, she would pass a number of constructed boxes on sidewalks and street corners that held books. “Take a book, share a book,” say these little free libraries. These six words took root in Kamya’s mind, and before long, she would find herself making strides in a worldwide effort to revitalize our communities.
The pandemic hit hard. Communities that normally fostered support in the form of local programs, neighborly relationships, and religious gatherings were left without an infrastructure to support people.
The Little Free Library project, a non-profit organization that contributes to the maintenance of these libraries, has been operating since long before the pandemic struck. Custodians of these libraries, called stewards, install boxes on their properties that contain books to be taken and exchanged at will by passerby. Even without the ability to connect face-to-face, the project attempts to supplement an element of community connection: literacy. Sarah Kamya, a New York City school counselor, is here to take it to the next level.
“One of the big things that people are missing and want more of is education and understanding,” said Kamya, whose curiosity shone through even on a zoom screen. “And so, I thought, why don’t I fill these libraries with books that represent Black and Brown authors, characters, and purchase them from black-owned bookstores.”
Her mission is built on the protests against police brutality that took place during the summer of 2020. Following George Floyd’s murder at the hands of police, an atmosphere of social unrest directed many people to seek new perspectives on race and social inequality. On social media, the need for widened perspectives became a call to action, with a clear, resounding message: educate yourself. This is exactly what Kamya sought to capitalize on.
And that’s exactly what she did. It began with gathering donations from family, buying books from the right bookstores, and stocking the libraries on her daily walks. With more books from underrepresented authors in the circulation of these libraries, the hope was to create enrichment and understanding. Soon after, she posted the details of the operation on Instagram, encouraging her followers to consider donating in the name of diversifying the perspectives contained in these little free libraries. Within an hour, she had raised $1000. Within a month, $10,000.
Kamya created an Amazon wish list, which allowed people to send her books anonymously. This took her effort to the next level. “I was getting over a hundred books a day at one point,” said Kamya, wearing a proud expression. “I had so many books I thought, I should send these to other people. My friend from Utah said, what if you start to get ambassadors for different states?”
Kamya’s Instagram page, @LittleFreeDiverseLibraries, now has ambassadors in all 50 states. People across the country have devoted part of their time to diversifying the voices of the authors contained in their local little free libraries. Kamya has donated a number of libraries to communities in Boston and New York that are dedicated exclusively to authors of color, of different religions, and different sexualities. Certain efforts, like Little Free Diverse Libraries in Dallas, have committed to stocking libraries with diverse books, while still others are setting up library boxes in underserved communities.
“Right now, my next step is getting little free library boxes to low-income communities and especially schools. Kids haven’t had access to school libraries and their learning and literacy level is not great right now.”
Kamya is not directly affiliated with the Little Free Library non-profit organization despite her grand undertaking. The organization itself has initiated a number of programs to try and address the same disparities that Kamya observed in the distribution of these library boxes. The Impact Library program sends library boxes to so-called “book desserts”, where access to books is limited. “Read in Color” is a program that is attempting to stock library boxes with diverse books in the same spirit as Kamya’s work. Stewards that participate in the program receive books purchased from BIPOC-owned bookstores at no cost to stock in their installations.
Sarah Kamya’s walks in the summer of 2020 took her past communities in need of something more than just literacy. Her empathy for the nationwide struggle against discrimination transformed into a community-oriented push towards understanding and connection. Her effort was evolving the mission of Little Free Library. Kamya’s legacy is built on the legacy of one Todd Bol, the founder of Little Free Library.
Bol, a teacher and entrepreneur from Hudson, Wisconsin, shared a love for reading with his mother. After her death, an idea sprouted. A way to honor her love of reading and to amplify the spirit imparted to Bol by her legacy. A way to nurture and expand their shared love for knowledge, for friends, and for community.
“We had this old garage door, and my dad saw these boxes of books we had around,” said Austin Bol, Todd’s son. “So he got this idea to take the garage door and build it into a box for books. We had this garage sale and people were more interested in this weird book box that was in front of the house than the garage sale. He started seeing people take interest and thought, oh! Maybe we’re on to something?”
The first little free library was built outside Bol’s Hudson, Wisconsin home in 2009. The idea gained traction, and soon, Little Free Libraries began to spread. After making connections with others interested in the idea, Little Free Library became its own non-profit organization. Library boxes were constructed all around Wisconsin and soon, outside the state as well.
“We got involved in these build days, which were some of my favorite things ever,” said Austin Bol, describing an initial push to build library boxes in communities around the country. “We went around the country and did some build days in Minneapolis, Chicago, and Orlando.”
The organization, which lives on after Bol’s death in 2018, seeks to inspire a love of reading, build community, and spark creativity through neighborhood book exchange.
“I really believe in a Little Free Library on every block and a book in every hand,” said Bol in the days before his death. “I believe people can fix their neighborhoods, fix their communities, develop systems of sharing, learn from each other, and see that they have a better place on this planet to live.”
The spirit of the idea has much in common with public libraries, the original champions of literacy and education. The library, like many of our most prized American institutions, began as a luxury for wealthy, white males. Benjamin Franklin created The Library Company, a subscription-model library that imported books from London for those few in his insider’s club. In 1790, the town of Franklin, Massachusetts received a donation of books from the founding father and created the nation’s first lending library. Within a century, these lending libraries had adopted a tax-funded model that meant that books were now free to be checked out by anyone. While book access was becoming more inclusive, it was men from New England’s wealthiest families who had the most influence on the development and administration of these libraries, and it wasn’t until the 1900s that women began to dominate the leadership of libraries.
Today, libraries exist as a resource free of charge and available to anyone, regardless of race, gender, or socioeconomic status. Little Free Libraries are free as well – but only for passerby. Licensing a structure costs between $40 and $80, assuming you’ve built the box yourself, which are also sold on Little Free Library’s website. This gives stewards access to exclusive benefits and the larger network of stewards.
The idea that Little Free Libraries can be cost prohibitive has gathered some controversy. A notable voice in the discussion is Jordan Hale, a researcher and digital repositories librarian at the University of Waterloo.
“Why should it cost money to use the name Little Free Library and pay to license the name?” questioned Hale, whose research has examined libraries as a means of social support and community connection. “It is essentially a business.”
Hale’s research has questioned the placement of Little Free Libraries, especially those in affluent areas, as potentially performative and lacking the ability to truly promote literacy as effectively as possible. The central difference between libraries and little free libraries are the parallel but differing roles of stewards and librarians.
At the inception of libraries was the growing responsibility of the librarian. Effective librarians built their libraries into cultural centers, integrating the tenets of literacy into the routine and livelihood of their surrounding communities. Women librarians rode on horseback to deliver books and create traveling libraries. It became common practice for libraries to offer programming like classes, discussion groups, and community events in tandem with local schools where students and parents were encouraged to participate. Whereas the first exchange of books in Benjamin Franklin’s club allowed for an unprecedented flow of knowledge and information for a select few, these librarians were performing the same service for entire counties of people. Knowledge grew in leaps and bounds and reached different corners of the country.
These librarians performed a function that is lost on the stewards of today’s little free libraries. Little Free Library stewards are expected to stock their libraries and contribute to community programs to build literacy. Although they do make book access convenient and contact-free, these collections are not made with the same attention towards community needs, and little accountability exists for stewards to play a big a role as traditional librarians.
“Libraries require work,” said Hale. “This isn’t something you can just build and put up and expect that it sustains itself automatically because the community will make it so.”
In some places, however, Little Free Libraries have made notable steps toward bringing communities together. Todd Bol would encourage stewards to extend their responsibilities beyond the maintenance of the little free library by storing pamphlets and business cards for community services like tutoring or dog walking. Some communities have used the structures to share seeds for plants, CDs, and even original writing.
Tony Bol, Todd’s brother, launched a new initiative in 2019 to advance the “front-yard sharing movement” started by Todd. The organization, called Share With Others, sells front-yard exchange boxes that can be used for book libraries, food pantries, and other means of exchange. Profits go towards promoting the front yard sharing movement.
“The idea grew and I think he realized that it was good to just empower people,” recounts Austin Bol. “You’re not just buying something from a company, you’re taking on this role of being a leader in your community.” From books to seeds to community services, sharing became infectious in communities that hosted little free libraries. If you search Instagram for “little free library” you’ll encounter thousands of posts from people across the world sharing their appreciation for their local installation. Today, there are 100,000 registered Little Free Libraries in all 50 states and in 108 countries.
The efforts of Todd Bol, Sarah Kamya, and Jordan Hale share the same heart and goal –to revitalize community spaces for enrichment and social exchange. The dissonance that results from these different approaches is centered around the nature of literacy.
“What does literacy mean?” asked Hale. “Can a one-size-fits-all understanding of literacy be applied to communities?”
Librarians have been addressing the issue for centuries. The purpose of library collections is to curate the selection of books available to be relevant to its local community. If that sounds familiar, it’s exactly what Sarah Kamya has sought out to accomplish by sourcing and stocking books from BIPOC authors. Growing inclusivity in libraries, both in their staffing and in the books on the shelves, could take the mission of literacy towards enrichment.
One of the benefits of an inclusive library is to provide people with culturally relevant books and information. A 2010 estimate by Google put the number of published books in the world at 130 million. While literacy remains a virtue to strive towards, it’s possible that not every book of 130 million books will be enriching to different readers.
“Just putting books out into the world is not automatically a good thing,” said Hale. “Libraries are there to provide materials, context, and assistance with use.”
Todd Bol’s moment of love was built on the spirit of his mother. Sarah Kamya seized this moment and drew it out, becoming a new kind of librarian for a pandemic-stricken world. The challenges posed by COVID -19 require libraries to be not just resilient, but adaptable.
In the early 1900s, libraries began innovating on their role as community support and enrichment by creating new strategies for reaching audiences that otherwise would not have visited a brick-and-mortar location. One of these strategies was the bookmobile, a horse-drawn carriage (and later, a motor vehicle) that delivered books directly to rural communities, segregated communities, and Native American reservation schools. Book circulation increased steadily throughout the 20th century, and especially after economic recovery following the Great Depression.
The library proved to be an incredibly resilient institution, offering wartime programs to get books in the hands of soldiers. In times of crisis, organizations like the American Library Association and the Works Progress Administration have worked tirelessly to increase literacy and book circulation. Despite technological advances like the e-reader that seemingly make libraries obsolete, they have remained a stalwart servant of community.
Millions of library workers worked tirelessly across generations to improve access to books. Activists and organizers have championed the perspectives of authors left out of the western canon. Sarah Kamya and Todd Bol are two links in a chain that stretches back across centuries.
What are we left with?
COVID-19 is the current time of crisis. Our libraries need to be resilient once again. The popularity of Kamya’s efforts proves that we still care about literacy, and we still care about gaining perspective. The legacies of Bol and Kamya are not stories of individual power and tenacity. Those stories are special because of how new perspective, in the form of books and voices, become shared by us all. Their legacies are not special by exclusion, they are special by inclusion.
“One idea can take many shapes and forms and lead into so many different areas,” Kamya said with conviction, reflecting on the progress of her project. “I don’t think I will be the last person to do this, and I hope that someone comes after me and takes it to another level.”
As the pandemic removes our infrastructure for community support, ideas like the Little Free Library provide an innovative, contact-free solution to spread books. Sarah Kamya’s initiative to curate these collections highlights the need for Little Free Libraries to integrate with public libraries in a greater capacity. Working together, the two can amplify their individual strengths and offer more comprehensive community services.
Offering diverse perspectives, growing the role of the steward, and offering creative programming could begin to heal the element of connection damaged by COVID-19.
For now, we wait for the next link in the chain.