For what might be the first time in your life, if you are a University of Alabama student, you automatically have a library card with access to 3.5 million books. They’re spread out over seven libraries, and the majority are organized according to which majors they are most applicable. With this many resources, including an online database and librarians available nearly every time of day and night, it’s easy to misconstrue function for purpose.
A library, by definition, is a collection of books and resources that people can borrow and utilise however and whenever they see fit. It has staff ready to help, and usually quiet spaces in order to read in peace. That’s all that Gorgas Library is now, especially with the renovations that have left the fifth, sixth and seventh floor out of commission until this fall.
What people forget is that that’s not the full extent of what a library is meant to do.
I was fortunate. My mother took my brother and me to the beautiful public library in Warwick, Rhode Island, twice a week. While my brother tried every time to check out “Go, Dog. Go!” — which we already had at home — I picked up the next installation of The Magic Tree House. My favorite was #30, the one about the haunted castle. These are some of my fondest memories, but she didn’t just take us for the books.
The greatest thing a public library fosters, beyond learning or curiosity or accruing fines, is a genuine sense of community. There are book clubs, interest groups and classes for people of all ages. At the library in Tennessee, where my family lived for ten years, there are dozens of activities every month, and it’s not just reading — the list includes drive-in movies, Ham radio classes, a renters’ rights seminar and even a “Magic Tree House” book club.
The University of Alabama’s libraries, however well-funded and massive they are, simply do not have the scope to recreate what an organic, community-driven library will do inherently.
While there are a few workshops offered in Gorgas, they are almost all Excel or coding-based, structured more to create a teacher-student relationship than to help people with similar interests connect and grow together.
The Tuscaloosa Public Library, however, with far fewer resources, is hosting library playdates, knit nights and repair cafés, the latter of which asks people to bring broken household appliances so that community volunteers can help fix them.
In a city where 23.8% of residents are living in poverty, programs like this are invaluable to those who cannot afford to send their children to daycare or buy a new coffee pot. Free book clubs and activities meant to engage kids for whom ballet lessons and T-ball teams may not be in the cards allows them to still form friendships in similar ways, and parents can sign them up for free tutoring rather than paying hundreds of dollars per week.
My mother did not grow up with the same privilege of frequenting a public library as me. The only library in her town was too far away for her to walk, and in her entire childhood her parents were only able to take her twice. It wasn’t until she came to the University of Alabama that she began reading regularly and voraciously. In the 36 years since then, she hasn’t stopped.
While I was lucky enough not to understand when my mother would tell me going to the library was a privilege, there are those in our community who understand it is certainly not a right.
Just like PBS, local libraries “rely on viewers like you.” The ordinary people who check out their books, sit in their chairs and attend their activities. Even if you’re not interested in learning to knit or fixing your handheld vacuum from TikTok Shop, if you never plan to step foot into the Tuscaloosa Public Library, the Warwick Public Library or even the one in your hometown, you should still get a library card.
While funding for public libraries mostly comes from local residents’ tax revenue, having a high amount of library card holders can be an indicator to government officials that a higher percentage of resources should be allocated there. This goes toward purchasing new books, replacing damaged ones, creating more public programming and in some cases, even waiving late fees. All of this is invaluable to the local community.
I would recommend getting a library card for the local engagement and free activities, not to mention the thousands of books that The University of Alabama’s more strictly academic catalog does not have. I would recommend getting a library card because there are often events — such as last month’s dead week study sessions for University of Alabama students prepping for their finals — geared toward college students. I would recommend getting a library card because I believe it builds lifelong habits and connections. But, if nothing else, I would recommend it because it actively helps the people around you.
Civic participation is one of the most fundamental parts of being an active citizen in your community, and making an impact here only takes five minutes. Help foster more learning and growth, pick up a book yourself and sign up for a card today at the library’s website.
