When "the" library becomes "my" library

We have several cowboys who like to come visit the library, particularly to chew the fat and to have country western songs printed for them. Today one of the regulars came in and wanted several songs (chords included). While the children's associate was helping him find his music sheets, he started to tell us about his prolific Native American beadwork, which he does as a hobby. His hatband was a lovely example of the fine work this man does with beads. He was very happy to share his passion with us. It put a smile on our faces to see the delight in his eyes as he spoke fondly of his two passions, music and beadwork.
Simone, branch library manager

Today I got to do some fun readers' advisory on the desk! A shy, soft-spoken young African-American man wanted books on "African American history." After doing a bit of a reference interview, I discovered that what he really wanted was novels that featured aspects of African American history. He said he was currently reading Ernest Gaines. I was able to put Toni Morrison and Edward P. Jones in his hands. The appreciative look on his face as I excitedly told him about these authors balanced out a week's worth of negative experiences!
Sheena, library manager

I'm really so proud of the cultural programs we offer at the libraries, particularly those that we offer through the American Indian Resource Center (AIRC). This weekend is the Festival of Words, and tonight I spoke with a young man who came to the desk to ask me specifically about this event. I handed him a brochure, and he genuinely seemed so pleased by everything that was planned. He told me that the person leading the stomp dance was his cousin. When I told him he could keep the brochure, he was so grateful. I love these moments when "the" library becomes "my" library for patrons -- when they realize it belongs to them.
Hillary, librarian

How do you know when you've fallen in love? For me, it was when the man who would become my husband heard the distraction in my voice on the phone one evening after work and responded not with anger but understanding: "Hey, the latest Harry Potter came in for you from the library, didn't it? It's okay -- you want to read. Why don't you call me in the morning?"

He saw me, but more than that, he got me.

(A new, much-anticipated book will almost always make me severely anti-social -- when I finally got my hands on Jonathan Franzen's Freedom a few summers ago, I stopped making dinners and had to resist the urge to call in sick every morning that week.)

I think there is something of this reflection (being seen) and recognition (being got) going on in all of these stories.

Public libraries these days are sure to include in their collections books and other materials that reflect the variety of cultures and people in the community (and beyond). Putting books by the African-American writers Toni Morrison and Edward P. Jones in the hands of the young African-American man was thrilling to Sheena not only because she was able to finally figure out what he really wanted (and to switch from what she thought was a reference interview to a Readers' Advisory interview), but because she was saying to him, in effect, Look, here you are.

More than a reflection, however, is the essential recognition, the visceral "you get me" feeling that leads to true ownership -- when people switch from viewing it as "the" library and realize it is "my" library, as Hillary so eloquently writes.

That is the force behind my library's three cultural centers -- the African-American Resource Center, the American Indian Resource Center, and the Hispanic Resource Center. All three have special collections, and all three hold major programs and events every year to celebrate and explain (and reflect and recognize) the cultural achievements of their populations.

There is a long and storied tradition in public libraries for this kind of cultural heritage mission, which I've been reading about in a few different books recently -- Introduction to Public Librarianship, by Kathleen de la Pena McCook (the premiere historian for public libraries), and several chapters by the late Connie Van Fleet, particularly "The Public Library as a Social/Cultural Institution", in Adult Services: An Enduring Focus for Public Libraries.

Late 19th century and early 20th century public libraries were interested in preserving cultural objects, particularly books, and sharing them with unschooled populations (particularly immigrants) to ensure a proper socialization into educated American society. It was a rather paternalistic vision: public libraries as stern masters, pointing to fitting in with everyone else.

The 1960s and 1970s led to a different view of cultural heritage, introducing the idea of promoting cultural diversity -- of seeing what cultures other than the dominant white one had to offer. Libraries also began moving away from just preserving objects to encouraging the interaction with the knowledge found in the objects. As one writer expressed at the time: "We need to place less emphasis on cultural objects (books, sound recordings, or whatever) and more emphasis on the function of these objects in people's lives" (quoted in Adult Services, p. 485-6).

I've attended several events put on by all of our cultural centers, but the American Indian Resource Center's Festival of Words is probably my favorite, with stomp-dancing, panel discussions on various topics related to American Indians, children's crafts, and demonstrations of American Indian hand games. Thousands of people tromp through the library, learning and enjoying, and you can see the influence of the Public Library Mission Statement adopted in the 1970s that said the library is "an agency which recognizes cultural and ethnic differences and encourages self-pride and appreciation of different cultural heritages."

Cultural support in the public library comes in many different packages, whether it's one-on-one sharing of novels by African-American authors, splashy community festivals, or listening to an old man talk about his artistic passions.

And when "the" library becomes "my" library -- you realize you are in love.