The Human Library was created to provide an opportunity to challenge stereotypes and prejudices in the community through an open forum where difficult questions are accepted, expected, and appreciated. It is meant to start conversations and foster understanding between individuals who may not normally interact with one another.
Human Books challenge prejudices by sharing their stories with readers. Book titles relate to their unique experience of prejudice, discrimination, or marginalization – past titles have been related to race, sex, age, disability, sexual orientation, gender identity, class, religion/belief, and lifestyle choices.
The Human Library provides a safe environment for Human Books and readers alike. Join us to learn why you can't judge a book by its cover.
The event will take place Thursday, April 6th from 1-6pm in the Willis Library Forum.
If you have any other questions about the event, please contact firstname.lastname@example.org.
To learn more about some of our books, read their stories below:
“Ask 12 pagans a question, and you will get 13 different answers” is a pretty common saying in the pagan community. There are more pagan faiths than there are Christian denominations. Each one is just as valid and sacred as next. And each practitioner is able to personalize their path to create their own unique spiritual path, as well. Mine is a cross between Celtic traditions and philosophical study. I have no single text to go to as a devotional and I often turn to nature to find my answers. My spiritual practice is based on research on Celtic mythology, including interpretations and translations of those texts; blended modern and ancient practices; and spontaneous inspiration from the divine, including my patron goddess, her pantheon, and nature. Her symbol is a crow or raven so that image is important in my spiritual experience, as well as colors and symbols. She is not a singular deity. She has nine aspects of other goddesses that complicate and specificity her importance to the Irish Celts. My practice involves tapping into the spiritual properties of stones, wood, flame, water, and air to cultivate a connection with my goddess and my ancestors. I represent my faith by the altar that I keep, the jewelry that I wear, and the tattoos marked on my skin. In all ways, I seek to enrich my being. If you would like to learn more about my experiences with paganism and how I create a pagan ontology, you can find me at the Human Library. I look forward our discussion. I am an open book. Blessed Be. - Pagan Ontology
I was born in Seoul to a Korean mother and a white American father. I acquired English and Korean simultaneously and was a native speaker of both, until we came to the US when I was four years old. The move from a city with a population of almost 11 million to a village in Louisiana with less than 600 people was quite an adjustment. As I took on the slowed-down and slurred syllables of the deep South, my native Korean faded - slowly at first and then with a speed that shocked my mother. Children adapt so quickly, you know.
There was no Korean population to speak of in my new home, and with a new school and new friends to keep me occupied, my Korean dwindled to only the household phrases my mother used most often. This was pre-YouTube, pre-Google, and we lived far enough in the country and with little enough means that the cultural artifacts my mother had brought with her were all that I had to tether me to her half of my birthright. So I practiced my Korean alphabet and pored over the picture books, held each factoid and story and now-foreign word close not with propriety but with covetousness because they didn’t belong to me anymore, not really. And when the children demanded that I go back to China or told me my mother’s fragmented speech meant she was stupid or when teachers would prompt me to pronounce Confucius or Genghis Khan or Hiroshima, I was too ashamed and afraid to be found out as an imposter in my own otherness to voice too much objection to their bigotry and ignorance. It is a strange thing to be 12 or 8 or 5 years old and to know the shame and frustration of forgetting what you sense should have been unforgettable. - Multiracial