Renaming of USNS Harvey Milk is cruel and misguided
The Navy launches the USNS Harvey Milk, a fleet replenishment oiler ship named after one of the first openly gay elected officials, in San Diego, in November 2021. Credit: AP/Alex Gallardo
Nearly four years ago, in a ceremony full of the customary patriotic pomp, complete with the breaking of a champagne bottle wrapped in red, white and blue on the hull, a Navy ship was christened in San Diego.
The USNS Harvey Milk was launched.
"Ship names are important because they express what we value as a Navy and as a nation," then-Secretary of the Navy Carlos Del Torro said at the time about the first ship knowingly and specifically honoring someone who was openly gay. "They communicate those values around the globe. In every port of call and wherever USNS Harvey Milk sails, her crew will carry his legacy."
Until now.
In a purposefully cruel move, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth has ordered the Navy to rename the USNS Harvey Milk, a vessel that provides fuel and cargo to others in the fleet. The timing — coinciding with June's annual celebration of Pride — was apparently intentional, according to Military.com, which originally reported the decision.
Milk, a Navy veteran originally from Woodmere, was a courageous visionary and dynamic leader, and as a member of the San Francisco board of supervisors, one of the first openly gay public officials in the U.S. In 1978, he was assassinated in his City Hall office.
Milk was a pioneer in the gay rights movement who led the battle against California's Proposition 6, a failed effort to ban gay and lesbian individuals from working in public schools. Since his death, Milk has been a role model and symbol for generations. A young teacher of mine who showed us a documentary about Milk more than a decade after his death prefaced it by standing before the class and saying Milk made it possible for him to tell us he was gay. For generations of young LGBTQ+ students, activists, teachers, politicians and, yes, service members, Milk represents what's possible in the ongoing quest for gay rights.
In the Navy, he reached the rank of lieutenant junior grade before he was forced to resign with an "other than honorable" discharge after his supervisors discovered he was gay. That was a familiar story, just one example of deeply rooted discrimination so many gay service members routinely experienced. Nonetheless, they continued to serve, often in silence and darkness, fighting and dying for a country that refused to embrace who they were. It was only with the repeal of "don't ask, don't tell" less than 15 years ago that LGBTQ+ service members could openly serve.
That progress is now under threat. Hegseth and President Donald Trump have sought to ban transgender troops from serving. It's no coincidence that their deadline for transgender individuals to identify themselves and separate from the military is Friday — also during Pride Month.
Now, Hegseth has taken his mean-spirited efforts further. By going after Milk, Hegseth, who in February said the phrase "Diversity is our strength" was the "single dumbest phrase in military history," is demonizing and diminishing those who don't fit his narrow mold of a hero. It sets a dangerous precedent, a legacy of hate that damages generations to come and hurts our standing around the world.
The memorandum demanding the ship renaming talked about "reestablishing the warrior culture." Milk was certainly a warrior — just not Hegseth's myopic definition of a warrior. But Hegseth's insidious actions show why the battles Milk fought are still worth fighting, why heroes like Milk are the ones that should be lauded, and why their names should grace our ships as they pull into the next port.
Columnist Randi F. Marshall's opinions are her own.
Randi Marshall is a member of the Newsday editorial board.
