The Fault In Our Stars (“TFIOS,” to fans) is a critically acclaimed, largely popular YA novel about two terminally-ill teenagers who fall in love. Business Week reported in April that “more than 7 million hardcover copies […] have circulated widely—among middle school English classes, from teen to tween, from child to parent to grandparent, and beyond.”

In the city of Riverside, a middle school librarian received so many requests for TFIOS from students interested in reading the book that she personally purchased four copies and donated them to the school library. But certain Riverside Unified School District administrators weren’t such fans of the book. The district’s materials reconsideration committee banned TFIOS from middle school libraries after a parent complained that the book depicted the love between the novel’s teen protagonists, Augustus and Hazel, in a “demeaning way.” (The parent also complained that the novel encouraged youth to think that it is socially acceptable for parents to be “uninvolved” in their children’s lives, because Hazel’s mother allows her to go to the movies without asking her who she is going with.)

In light of the parent’s complaints, the district committee decided that TFIOS should be banned because it is not “age appropriate” for middle school students. But plenty of middle schoolers in Riverside and across the country have read and appreciated the book. As one review says, the book is written “for youth, rather than to them, and the difference is palpable.”

So what does “age appropriate” really mean here? Too often, school officials ban books as unsuitable for certain age groups – not because the books are too difficult or complex for students of that age group to understand, but because they contain certain values or ideas that parents or school administrators wish to suppress. This kind of viewpoint discrimination violates the First Amendment, as courts have repeatedly held in cases like Board of Education, Island Trees Union Free School District No. 26 v. Pico and others.

In the case of Riverside Unified’s removal of The Fault In Our Stars, it is clear that the committee’s decision was meant to shield middle schoolers from particular ideas about various topics: appropriate parenting styles, teenage sexuality, the inevitability of death. Two different committee members opined that the book was not age appropriate because it would cause middle school students to think about "heavy" topics like cancer and death.

Parents and students who wish to discuss and read about real life issues like death and teenage sex should not have their First Amendment rights restricted simply because other parents find an author’s views on those topics frightening or unorthodox. As TFIOS author John Green ironically suggested on his tumblr, it is quite likely that many middle school-age youth have already started to think about mortality. After all, TFIOS was inspired by a girl who was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 12.

TWEET: Spread the word and tell the Riverside Unified School District to #LiftTheBan on #TFIOS

 

The ACLU Foundation of Southern California and other organizations, such as the National Coalition Against Censorship, have written to Riverside Unified’s School Board to urge it to overturn the committee’s decision. And you can make your voice heard, too!

On Monday, December 8, the school board will be holding a public meeting to reconsider whether The Fault In Our Stars should be restored to the school library or remain banned from middle schools. We urge local residents and young fans of TFIOS to come out to the meeting to voice their thoughts and help us restore the book to library bookshelves.
 

RUSD School Board Public Session: 5:30 p.m. at Riverside Adult School, Board Room, 6735 Magnolia, Riverside, CA 92506
 

Adrienna Wong is staff attorney at the ACLU of Southern California. Follow ACLU_SoCal.

By Sarah Mehta

Nydia already had asylum in the United States when she was twice deported by border officers back to the danger she fled from. A transgender woman from Mexico, Nydia told officers she had status and had been raped and attacked in Mexico when she returned for her mother's funeral.

They deported her anyway, and she was kidnapped and raped again.

Each year, over 363, 279 – 83 percent – of deportations from the United States are ordered by immigration officers, not judges. Those deported in "summary removal" processes do not get a hearing or a chance to present evidence, or call a lawyer, or even say goodbye to their families before they are banished, sometimes for life. Our report released today, American Exile: Rapid Deportations That Bypass the Courtroom, shows the incredible costs to those we remove and to their families left behind when the rush to deport trumps due process.

Nydia, a transgender woman, was granted asylum in the United States after repeated physical and sexual attacks in Mexico. More

 

Two weeks ago, President Obama announced a plan that has the potential to protect more than four million non-citizens leading rooted lives in the United States without legal recognition. By announcing his executive action, President Obama helped millions of deserving undocumented residents, but failed to reform treatment of people caught at our border. Our border is not a line but, as understood by the Department of Homeland Security, a 100-mile ring into the United States.

And yet this space is treated completely differently, even for people with the exact same equities as those apprehended in the so-called "interior."

As we found in a year-long investigation and close to 200 interviews and case studies, many people arrested and deported in the border zone are not strangers at the gate: They include longtime residents and parents of U.S. citizens. Others are lawful residents or workers, deported during their daily commute when federal immigration law enforcement officers summarily extinguish their rights. And then there are children and families fleeing unfathomable violence and seeking protection in the United States. Deporting these individuals without a fair hearing and sometimes with catastrophic – if predictable – consequences violates our human rights obligations and defies who we want to be as a country.

Announcing his executive action program, President Obama said, "We didn't raise the Statue of Liberty with her back to the world; we did it with her light shining as a beacon to the world." But when asylum seekers reach our borders following that beacon, they and many others are deported quickly to danger, without a hearing, often after signing deportation forms they don't understand and in a language they don't speak.

In all of these situations, people are deported because immigration enforcement officers have incredible power and discretion that is used too often as a smokescreen to deny a person his or her rights. Immigration enforcement officers are not trained as lawyers; nor do they act as independent mediators. They are trained to arrest, detain, and deport – not to judge and authorize relief or to be fluent in some of the most complicated law in the United States.

But these deportation orders, which you'd think need more review and oversight, receive almost none – far less than a deportation order issued by a judge after evidence, testimony, and legal review. Getting illegal deportation orders reviewed and expunged is virtually impossible. And review can be too little, too late, when people are deported back into harm's way.

Individuals like Nydia who already have rights in the United States must rely on border officers to believe them, to listen and to care about their rights and claims. Some CBP officials do their jobs well, but a significant proportion is acting – intentionally or not – contrary to U.S. laws that protect American families and refugees. Giving people a real chance to defend their rights and to present claims in court would restore some integrity to our broken immigration system, putting justice—not expedience—first.

Sarah Mehta is a researcher at the ACLU's Human Rights Program. Follow ACLU_SoCal.

Why we need body cameras now more than ever

Today’s decision by a Staten Island grand jury not to indict NYPD Officer Daniel Pantaleo for having killed Eric Garner using a chokehold during an arrest for selling untaxed cigarettes has sparked enormous outcry and frustration. Garner’s killing was captured on video and has been viewed by millions. Does that mean that video doesn’t matter? That getting police to wear body cameras won’t help hold officers accountable?

Not a bit. The fact that video evidence didn’t lead to an indictment doesn’t suggest a problem with video, but a problem with grand juries. In the wake of last week’s decision of a grand jury not to indict police officer Darren Wilson for killing 18-year-old Michael Brown in Ferguson, as well as today’s decision in the Garner killing, there’s been a lot written about how seldom grand juries hold police officer accountable for killing civilians, and I won’t repeat that here. But despite the grand jury decision, having video footage in incidents like this one matters a lot.

Video evidence gives the grand jury important evidence about what happened when an officer kills a civilian. The Ferguson grand jury decided not to indict Wilson in part because of conflicting accounts of what happened — who grabbed who first, who acted as the aggressor. The grand jury appeared to discount the testimony of some eyewitnesses, including Brown’s friend who was with him at the time of the shooting, in favor of the account by the officer who pulled the trigger. Video evidence helps resolve those conflicts, so that juries or investigators don’t just defer to officers’ testimony.

Video might not resolve every dispute, it might not guarantee indictments or discipline in every case where they’re deserved — but the chances of justice without it seem much less.

Video evidence also provides the public with crucial information about how police operate. It’s in large part because of the video footage that the nation is so outraged at Garner’s killing. We know what happened — we may not have all the evidence the grand jury had, but we know a lot more than if no video existed. We know what Garner said, what he did and we can judge for ourselves how threatening he seemed, or didn’t. We can judge for ourselves whether we want officers who act in our name should to act as Officer Pantaleo did, or not.

L.A.'s got a new sheriff, and we've gifted him a new agenda to restore the LASD. Learn more.

 

More importantly, when we can judge for ourselves when officers act wrongly, we can also judge when the systems to hold officers accountable are failing. If a grand jury fails to return an indictment in a controversial incident, or if a department says a killing was within policy, video makes it harder to say that the public doesn’t really know the full story. When you say the system’s broken, it’s harder to say you’ve got your facts wrong if there’s video evidence.

Video footage might not have meant an indictment for the killing of Eric Garner, but it means that many more people are demanding that the system must give him justice or the system must change. That’s a step toward accountability, and one we think body cameras will help provide.

Peter Bibring is director of police practices for the ACLU of California. Follow ACLU_SoCal.