The recent federal cuts to the Institute of Museum and Library Services (IMLS) are not routine budget trimming or efficiency measures—they’re about dismantling the infrastructure of care and connection that sustains vulnerable communities.
We’ve all used libraries for free Wi-Fi, research, printing a résumé, streaming videos, checking out an eBook, navigating grant resources, participating in summer reading programs, or simply finding a moment’s respite without scrutiny or cost. IMLS funding makes all of that possible. It underwrites the essential, often invisible labor of access and support.
In rural Wisconsin, where I live and work, library systems stretch across vast distances, and an 8% cut is deeply tangible. Programs disappear, digital tools become inaccessible, and staff face uncertain futures. The recent closure of the Bad River Tribal Library is a stark example of what happens when these cuts hit hardest.
This isn’t about mismanagement. It’s about erasing those already marginalized—caregivers, single mothers, elders on the wrong side of the digital divide, and people precariously navigating economic instability. It’s about shrinking shared resources until collective expectations erode.
Libraries are among our most radical democratic spaces—places that meet people where they are, embracing their full complexity and humanity. That ethos is why I’m proud to be part of this profession, and why it angers me that defunding it is not neutral but a deliberate strategy to fragment communities and restrict who belongs.
A recent federal court ruling blocked the executive order to eliminate IMLS—an important but provisional victory. The loss of grants, jobs, and trust won’t be undone overnight.
Microactivism:
Track what’s being cut. If your local library drops programs, staffing, or services, ask why—and who’s affected.
Push for transparency. Use public forums to demand explanations for closures or funding losses. Put it on record.