Op-Ed on the Effects of Censorship : The Butere Girls Ban
April 15, 2025 |
| Behind the Scenes Op-Ed drafting, yes I print and do two rounds of edits (black and red) while walking around the penthouse (my apartment) - Lancaster, April 2025 |
Good afternoon beautiful people,
Yesterday, I pitched an op-ed reflecting on the recent ban of Echoes of War, the play Butere Girls High School was scheduled to perform at this year’s Kenya National Drama Festival. The piece highlights historical censorship moments in Kenya and across Africa, and ties them to the current wave of book bans in the U.S.
Find the full op-ed I originally pitched below.
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| My Op-Ed on Kenya's Daily Nation - April 2025 |
If you prefer to read the version published by Daily Nation, you can find it here: Censorship Has Widespread Effects
Censorship Has Far Reaching Consequences—Especially for Students
The banning of Echoes of War at this year’s Kenya National Drama Festival has reignited public debate about censorship—and what it costs us as a society. The play, written by politician and playwright Cleophas Malala, was pulled before it could be performed, with education officials citing political content.
This is not the first time Malala’s work has been banned. In 2013, his play Shackles of Doom was blocked by the same festival for being “divisive.” Malala challenged the decision in court—and won. A decade later, his words are being silenced again.
Censorship in Kenya is not new, and it’s far from subtle.
During British colonial rule, plays, pamphlets, and letters that questioned the empire were classified as seditious and removed from circulation. That impulse carried into the post-independence period. In the 1980s, members of the Mwakenya movement were detained and tortured for circulating underground literature critical of the Moi regime.
Around that time, Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o’s I Will Marry When I Want—co-written with Ngũgĩ wa Mirii—was banned for criticizing land injustice. Ngũgĩ was detained without trial. The play was silenced in Kenya, but its message traveled globally.
This pattern holds across the continent.
These African examples resonate with book banning in the U.S., where over 10,000 titles were removed from public school shelves between 2023 and 2024. The majority of these bans were driven by political or religious groups—underscoring that control, not care, often motivates censorship.
To be sure, the students of Butere Girls did not write Echoes of War—they were performing a script written by someone else. And while this raises valid questions about the use of students to deliver politically charged messages—just as we assign books written by others for classroom reading—we must remember: students do not live in a vacuum. Whether as creators, consumers, or performers, they often bear the brunt of censorship.
Censorship—especially where students are involved—has far-reaching consequences. It shapes how they learn, what they imagine, and what they believe they’re allowed to say. Research from UNESCO and the OECD shows that in highly censored learning environments, students are less likely to pursue careers in public service, journalism, or social leadership. They disengage not just from literature—but from society.
When we suppress creative expression for whatever reason, we don’t protect students—we train them to expect repression.
What we ban today shapes not just what they say tomorrow, but the kind of citizen, voter, worker—or silence—we produce.
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