They arrived at 7:30am on Wednesday, with trucks and security guards, to clear out Kensal Rise library – as they had five other libraries in the London borough of Brent in the last six months. By the time the alarm went up, there were about a dozen people inside, packing up all of the books and two giant trucks double parked on the narrow street outside. It should all have proceeded smoothly: just a day of heavy lifting.

But something happened: as neighbours hurried off to work, they sent back heartbroken texts and emails reporting what was happening. Within minutes, local residents had started massing on the doorstep. By 9am, there were about 30 of us and it became clear that the people inside were going to have a devil of a time getting those boxes out without a fight. The police were called, there was talk of arrests, but the neighbourhood stood its ground. Calls were made, the press arrived, plans were hatched and compromises brokered.

At 3pm, we got the call from the new leader of Brent council, Muhammed Butt: the books would not be taken out that day. A simple act of political courage on both sides meant that for the first time in a very long time, there now is a chance that the Friends of Kensal Rise Library and Brent council may be able to come together to save this neighbourhood's greatest treasure.

Ever since Brent announced plans to close half of its local libraries in November 2010, this community has tried to engage in discussions to take it over. There is a detailed proposal on the table to see the Friends of Kensal Rise library run the library at no cost to the council. Until Wednesday, Brent had stonewalled us and pressed on with its plans, most recently announcing that ownership of the building has reverted to All Souls College, Oxford. All Souls College, for its part, said that it does not want the building back if an agreement can be reached between Brent and the friends to run a library from the premises.

Brent has consistently underestimated how territorial this community is when it comes to Kensal Rise library. When it closed the library's doors on 13 October 2011 and tried to send builders to board up the windows, we surrounded the building and slept on the doorstep for a week until an agreement was reached to prevent any further moves against the building. A pop-up library was established on the site, which now houses well over 3,000 books. So it came as no surprise to us to see dozens of our neighbours gathered at the library on Wednesday, young and old, braving confrontation and arrest in order to protect what we feel is our property.

This is where we take our babies to look for their first books, where our children can study in safety, where we use the computers to draft our CVs and look for jobs, where our grandparents go to get their large-print books and bump into their neighbours. We are willing to invest thousands of volunteer hours per year, fund-raise tirelessly, plan, dream and scheme to keep it going. All we need is a fair chance. Surely, after a year and a half, we have proven ourselves to be sufficiently committed and good-hearted people to deserve a chance to make a go of it? Surely the alternative is a waste too horrifying to contemplate?

Kensal Rise library became a symbol of our neighbourhood's history and identity, and the fight to save it became a powerful statement: it's about wanting a vibrant, safe, free, multicultural space in which to meet and learn. It's about the need for local authorities to listen to and engage with local people, and about sensible people rising up against the senseless waste of a building gifted to us over a century ago, a building that has survived two world wars and any number of economic downturns. It's about books and all that they offer in terms of imagination and aspiration. And it's about the meaning of community: that by working together, looking out for each other, and believing in ourselves, we can achieve extraordinary things.