Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 63
Jason Edward Black & Charles E. Morris III: Jason.black@ua.edu
Last Updated: January 2012
Copyright © 2012 (Jason Edward Black & Charles E. Morris III).
Voices of Democracy
, ISSN #1932‐9539. Available at
http://www.voicesofdemocracy.umd.edu/
.
HARVEY MILK, "YOU'VE GOT TO HAVE HOPE" (24 JUNE 1977)
Jason Edward Black
The University of Alabama
Charles E. Morris III
Boston College
Abstract: This essay examines Harvey Milk's 1977 address "You've
Got to Have Hope" for the ways that it reflects the gay rights
politics of its time—simultaneously in San Francisco and across the
nation. Specifically, this essay explores how Milk emphasized a
populist rhetoric that united the gay community and its straight
allies,
while
also
emphasizing
the
imperative
of
keeping
gay
leadership empowered. Ultimately, Milk bridged his constituencies
through a theme of
hope
.
Key
Words:
Harvey
Milk;
LGBTQ
politics;
gay
rights
issues;
populism; hope; movement leadership; LGBTQ movements; gay
rights movements
The release of the 2008 Focus Features film
Milk
—written by Dustin Lance Black,
directed by Gus Van Sant, and starring Sean Penn—did much to illuminate the life and
times of Harvey Milk. A grassroots gay activist and San Francisco city supervisor during
the late 1970s, Milk was one of the first openly gay elected officials in the United States.
Following
suit,
the
lingering
afterglow
of
the
film
produced
a
wellspring
of
contemporary
Milk
memories,
most
recently
drawn
upon
in
the
debates
over
Proposition
8,
California's
anti‐gay
marriage
initiative.
1
However,
even
before
the
award‐winning film made its way onto the silver screen and into the hearts of the
Academy Awards selection committee, Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer
(LGBTQ)
activists
and
leaders
had
done
much
to
honor
Milk's
legacy.
2
Coming
immediately
after
Milk's
untimely
death
by
assassination
in
November
1978,
and
continuing
to
the
present,
there
have
been
many
efforts
to
commemorate
his
inspiration for and impact on gay and LGBTQ strength, pride, and alliances with other
marginalized and oppressed groups, as well as with those in the dominant public. Some
of these include: the construction of a Harvey Milk school for self‐identified LGBTQ
students; the naming of institutions such as the Harvey Milk Gay Democratic Club and
the Harvey Milk/Eureka Valley Library; productions of documentaries, operas, and
biographies (
The Times of Harvey Milk
,
Harvey Milk: An Opera in Three Acts
, and
The
Mayor of Castro Street
, respectively); commemorations including the Harvey Milk City
Hall Memorial Committee and its resulting bust of Milk unveiled in 2008; and most
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 64
recently in 2009, the institution of a statewide Harvey Milk Day in 2009, successful
legislation initiated by California Senator Mark Leno.
3
Despite the significance of Milk's storied place in LGBTQ politics and history, little
of his public discourse has been disseminated to the public and studied by scholars.
Some transcribed spoken discourse does exist, such as the four speeches and his
political will found in an appendix to journalist and AIDS activist Randy Shilts'
The Mayor
of Castro Street
.
4
Other speech anthologies and rhetorical readers also include perhaps
Milk's most famous speech—and the one attended to here—titled "You've Got to Have
Hope" (24 June 1977).
5
And, excerpts of his public discourse can be found in coffee
table‐styled books like that of Dustin Lance Black and Armistead Maupin's
Milk: A
Pictorial History of Harvey Milk
.
6
Given the dearth of Milk's words available to the
public, it might make sense, then, that few scholars have accessed his words and have
written about them historically and critically. Although the field of rhetorical studies is
indebted to Karen Foss's research on his speeches and legacies,
7
more attention to his
rhetoric is warranted given the historical and rhetorical significance of his speeches,
writings, campaign literature, and narratives.
8
The present essay addresses this major lacuna in Milk memory and history. That
is, this essay exhibits and interprets a significant text in the archive of his public
discourse, which complements other contemporary instantiations of his legacy. To that
end, we examine here Milk's 24 June 1977 address "You've Got to Have Hope" for the
ways that it reflects the gay rights politics of its time—simultaneously in San Francisco
and across the nation, both of whose civic bodies found themselves in an intense battle
over the roles that gay people would play as a part of the larger U.S. polity in the 1970s.
This particular speech was, in Milk's own time as well as ours, his most famous, as it
incorporated into both a campaign and rally speech throughout 1977 and 1978 a
number of issues for which he advocated resolutely and passionately. Specifically, we
examine how Milk emphasized a populist rhetoric that united the gay community and its
straight allies, while also emphasizing the imperative of keeping gay leadership centered
as self‐identified, empowered, and utile in the struggle for gay rights, respect, and
power. The liminal spaces that Milk tread between appeals to the larger citizenry and
his own gay community demonstrates the complications of sustaining a powerful gay‐
centered
politics
in
the
late
1970s.
The
ultimate
way
that
Milk
bridged
his
constituencies—and in the process made a mark for himself as a leader—was through a
transcendent and, yet, material theme of
hope
. Here, what we call "the hope trope"
sounded
a
rallying
call
for
social
change
to
gay
community
members
and
other
marginalized groups, as well as straight allies. Such political activism occurred in the face
of stark homophobic policies at both the federal and local levels and in the crucible of
the sometimes masked, though mostly overt, affects, arguments, and actions of a
heteronormative
U.S.
public.
This
essay
proceeds
by
providing
some
context
surrounding the speech before attending to an analysis of Milk's "You've Got to Have
Hope" address. Finally, we trace some of the legacies of both Milk and his speech while
suggesting a few ways that contemporary LBGTQ and social change communities rely on
his memory and the utility of the "hope trope."
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 65
Milk in His Times and the Hope Speech's Generative Context
For most of his adult life Milk lived a quietly domestic and cultured existence,
passionately devoted to his "marriages" and his homes in the boroughs of New York
City. It was not until he moved to San Francisco that Milk dramatically transformed into
a leader for social change. Two years after giving up his conservative job as a Wall Street
broker, Milk grew his hair, fell into a hippie crowd, and moved to a San Francisco
neighborhood called The Castro with his lover Scott Smith.
Always a haven for outsiders, San Francisco had since World War II become
home to a sizeable population of gay people—mostly gay men, though the city's social
landscape by no means occluded lesbians or other gender and sexual "outlaws." San
Francisco also has a long history as a site of brave activist struggle against homophobia.
Branches of the Mattachine Society and the Daughters of Bilitis were founded in the
1950s, making the city a stronghold of the homophile movement.
9
None of what gay San Francisco had been throughout the first half of the
twentieth century could compare, however, to the massive influx of LGBT immigrants
and the expansion of gay culture and politics in the early 1970s. The growth was
enabled
by
the
changing
economic
and
demographic
landscape
of
the
city.
The
transformation of San Francisco from a manufacturing center into a metropolis catering
to
corporate
headquarters,
tourism
and
conventions,
depleted
blue‐collar
straight
families in the many ethnic neighborhoods, bringing in young professionals who found
inexpensive housing in places like the Castro. As the
San Francisco Chronicle
reported on
its
front
page
in
early
1971,
"San
Francisco's
populous
homosexual
community,
historically nonpolitical and inward looking, is in the midst of assembling a potentially
powerful political machine."
10
Political possibilities seemed to grow, communal identity
deepened, and the sexual embodiment of freedom by gay men, made change palpable.
Although there have been critiques of this freedom,
11
sociologist Elizabeth Armstrong
argues
persuasively
that
those
committed
to
gay
rights
fomented
a
synergistic
movement of "unity through diversity."
12
Milk's political career emerged from this context, reflecting it but also harnessing
its energies and promises into a unique vision that would help define the rest of the
decade as an epoch in gay history, locally and nationally. He began his career quite
unremarkably in the spring of 1973 in his newly opened Castro Camera at 575 Castro
Street. The real work of Castro Camera and its regulars focused not on rolls of film but
on
people
of
all
stripes,
their
freedoms
and
neighborhoods,
and
the
political
transformation of San Francisco and beyond.
Milk ran in 1973 for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors, the 11‐member
body representing the city's government. One of his stated motivations for seeking
office was the disparity between haves and have‐nots in a city quickly making its mark
with downtown development. Shortly after an altercation with a local business leader
who wanted to levy special taxes on small business owners, Milk stood on a crate
inscribed with the word "soap" and launched his candidacy.
13
His stance was one of
community‐building. Instead of downtown development and growth of the tourism
industry, Milk focused on San Francisco's future in terms of childcare centers and dental
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 66
care for the elderly, eliminating poverty and addressing the unemployment rate by
teaching skills and providing economic opportunities. The people of San Francisco and
their neighborhoods constituted Milk's platform; from the community art centers to the
beer drivers' local union to the district elections he championed, the platform imagined
the end of disenfranchisement and discrimination as well as a resurgence of democracy
and equality for all. Milk ended up losing that election in part because he was targeted
by the dominant gay political establishment whose key players and gatekeepers tended
to believe in a more gradualist achievement of equality gained by loyal support of
straight
liberal
allies.
14
We
should
note
that
while
not
all
in
the
gay
political
establishment sought accommodationist strategies, they comprised the majority of this
dominant group. Unexpectedly, Milk came in tenth out of thirty candidates.
Milk appeared to have been emboldened by the experience and results, as he
ran for the Board of Supervisors again in 1975. This time he also added increased gay‐
centered issues to his campaign. Milk struggled against homophobia and called for folks
to come out and band together. This, of course, was easier for him to do as a white gay
man, which offered him a comparatively but not absolutely privileged and safe position
from which to speak and through which to step over the closet's threshold. Though the
Milk of his second campaign was undeniably still populist and avowedly a gay activist, he
passionately espoused positions consonant with all people and the gay community. The
heart of Milk's appeal, as evidenced by the diversified and growing endorsements
during this second campaign, pulsed with his pluralism, populism, and progressivism.
For instance, he was unyielding in his longstanding support of the city's unions, as
demonstrated by his boycott efforts against Coors beer. He had resisted the mayor's
"caving"
during
the
strikes
that
year,
support
which
teamsters,
fire
fighters,
and
hardhats returned in kind. Yet he did not hesitate to continue his muscular critique of
police
neglect,
discrimination,
harassment,
and
brutality,
while
urging
the
gay
community to give a chance to the police community liaison "seminars" he championed.
Milk's model for communal advancement toward equality and acceptance was the
Castro Village Association, comprised of both gay and straight people working together
as neighbors (the annual street fair had drawn 25,000 in 1975 and 100,000 in 1976).
Though Milk was not victorious, he finished seventh out of twenty‐seven candidates,
despite renewed opposition from gay establishment politicos.
15
As his star rose, Milk was asked by Mayor George Moscone to sit on San
Francisco's Board of Permit Appeals, becoming the first openly gay commissioner in U.S.
politics. While briefly in that position, Milk had caught wind of a political deal that would
have splintered his Democratic Party. So, he quit the Board of Permit Appeals and ran
for California Assembly in 1976 to fight the division. He created a campaign called "Milk
vs. The Machine," punctuating his desire to help people fight "big politics." Even though
he lost once again, the campaign sparked Milk's signature theme of hope, which would
come to define his legacy.
The year 1977 proved to be one of the most important in gay history in San
Francisco to date. The year began with the realization of long‐sought district elections,
which would allow people to elect their representatives from communities, rather than
the city at large. This gave Milk a chance of being elected. That same year a gay rights
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 67
ordinance protecting against homophobic discrimination in employment, housing, and
public accommodations passed in Dade County, Florida, a noteworthy civil rights victory
in what would become a series of such advancements over the course of the year in
other cities across the United States.
16
Ironically, the year would also be consequential for the movement because an
evangelical pop singer named Anita Bryant sought to thwart the gay juggernaut in a
showdown.
Bryant's
wholesome
persona,
Donna
Reed
looks,
mellifluous
voice,
conservative
values,
and
devout
faith
made
her
a
powerful
spokesperson
for
a
homophobic campaign to repeal the Dade County gay rights ordinance. Called, "Save
Our Children," the repeal effort trafficked in the invidious and intoxicating fear appeals
regarding homosexual "recruitment." It took no time at all to gather the required
signatures to secure a special election in June of 1977 that would become known as
"Orange Tuesday." Gay rights operatives from both coasts took their stand on the
battleground
of
Miami.
But
their
rational
arguments
proved
to
be
no
match
for
commercials featuring provocative images from the San Francisco Gay Freedom Day
Parade and the refrain of children in peril. On 7 June 1977 the repeal passed with nearly
70 percent of the vote.
17
Milk was not enlisted for the fight in Florida, but he became the de facto leader
of the throngs of gay people in San Francisco who reacted to the repeal, catapulting him
to more national visibility as a gay rights champion and leader. As in cities around the
country, thousands of gay San Franciscans, men and women, took to the streets for the
better part of a week thereafter. That first night is best remembered because Milk
transformed the massive demonstration that threatened to turn violent ("Out of the
Bars and into the Streets!") into a five‐mile peaceable march throughout the city,
culminating in a midnight rally of 5,000 at the steps of City Hall. A photograph of Milk
with his familiar bullhorn captured well the spirit and achievement of the massive,
peaceful demonstration and its leadership. Dudley Clendinen and Adam Nagourney
observed, "[T]he midnight march was wholly a product of the city's new gay population,
one angry and aroused, with its own neighborhood, its own distinct cultural values, its
own community organizations and leaders, and its own way of reacting to events."
18
Based on his meteoric rise in the movement, Milk decided—once again—to run for the
Board of Supervisors in 1977.
But, the oppressive stench of Orange Tuesday still hung in the air that year. The
very same well of hate speech that Bryant inspired provided gubernatorial hopeful and
California state senator John Briggs with an expedient platform, announcing just days
after Orange Tuesday his campaign to remove gay teachers from the public schools of
California. Local politicians took the opportunity to seek repeal of district elections and
to recall gay‐friendly officials. Across the nation, concerted efforts began to roll back gay
rights, repeal campaigns that by 1978 would prove successful in many U.S. cities.
19
Within this broad political context, Milk nevertheless stayed true to the vision he
had forged through three previous campaigns. Of course Milk never wavered from his
position that gay men and women needed an avowed gay leader in office, and one who
was
not
beholden
to
those
straight
liberal
"allies"
who
retreated
from
their
gay
supporters whenever the political temperature on homosexuality rose precipitously.
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 68
During this campaign, Milk first called for a statewide gay caucus that would mobilize
and gather communities across political, social, and other lines to create a unified front
and an influential bloc designed to test the commitment of any aspirant politician on
gay issues. Milk spoke again about gay power and pride. He inspired kids from small
towns around the nation where the closet needed to be opened to hold onto "hope"—
this became Milk's sine qua non.
Milk's vision still bore the marks of the populist, neighborhood activist fighting
for all people in District 5 and across San Francisco, reaching out throughout the
campaign to African‐Americans, Latino/as, women, the elderly, and heterosexuals. This
was still Milk's mantra, one that made his call to his gay brothers and sisters broadly
resonant, even in these homophobic times. Once again opposed by moderate gay
leaders, mostly men, once again out spent, and with the help of talented young,
inexperienced volunteers, Milk finally won in November 1977, taking 30 percent of the
vote in a field of 16 and finishing first in 60 of 98 precincts. Milk's message was one of
populism, community, and—of course—hope. He said, "'This is not my victory, it's yours
and yours and yours. . . . If a gay can win, it means that there is hope that the system
can work for all minorities if we fight. We've given them hope.'"
20
Hope may have been
easier for him to come by as a man ensconced in white privilege, but it was still difficult
for gay folks to forge such transcendent motivation in the constantly‐roiling boil of
homophobia.
Electing to be sworn in on the steps of City Hall, where more might see his
ceremony as a true sign of progress, Milk's inaugural words foretold the spirit of his
leadership to come: "Anita Bryant said gay people brought drought to California. Looks
to me like it's finally started raining. . . . This is not my swearing‐in, this is your swearing‐
in. You can stand around and throw bricks at Silly Hall or you can take it over. Well, here
we are."
21
In his first official act, Supervisor Milk introduced an anti‐discrimination
ordinance assuring gay rights in all employment, housing, and public accommodations in
San
Francisco.
A
month
later,
Milk
emphasized
that
his
domestic
policy
chiefly
concerned an "emotional commitment" or "patriotism" regarding the city and its "new
demographics":
The city is no longer primarily white, established, middle class, or even primarily
married with children. It's yellow, brown, black, with a steady influx into the
middle economic class of people who were formerly lower economic class. It's
also increasingly young marrieds [sic] with no children, or young couples who
aren't married, or extended families, or gays, or singles, and most certainly
seniors.
22
Ever the progressive bridge builder, Milk would pave the way for a city he believed one
day in the near future would be the most diverse.
After
he
took
office,
Milk's
leadership
began
to
become
more
visible
and
influential on the state and national political scenes. Dominating Milk's attention during
most of what remained of that first year in office, and solidifying his reputation as a
local
activist
stalwart
with
a
burgeoning
national
reputation,
was
the
virulently
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 69
homophobic campaign of Briggs to rid the California schools of gay teachers. This
became known as the Briggs Initiative and became certified as Proposition 6 in May.
23
Within the broader post‐Dade County context, there was little reason to be optimistic
about stemming the national wave of homophobia that Briggs had managed to ride into
temporary political prominence. Briggs warned, "If you let one homosexual teacher stay,
soon there'll be two, then four, then 8, then 25—and before long, the entire school will
be taught by homosexuals."
24
Milk's response was to fight. By his battle plan, one must ceaselessly talk,
speaking
out
to
explode
the
homophobic
myths
that
opportunists
such
as
Briggs
exploited to their ideological and political advantage. And talk he did, refuting the lies
and
distortions
which
asserted
that
homosexuality
is
a
choice,
that
predatory
homosexuals are the primary perpetrators of child molestation and abuse, and that gays
recruit by becoming "role models" for the "lifestyle." Simultaneously, Milk promoted the
ideas that homosexuality is natural, given, omnipresent, good, and undeserving of
discrimination, harassment, and violence. In characterizing the viciousness of the Briggs
Initiative, and as a means of rousing resistance by shattering apathy, Milk favored the
Holocaust trope, likening Briggs to Hitler and gays to the Jews oppressed by the
genocidal Nazi regime. As the oldest son of Jewish immigrants, he certainly possessed
the ethos to make such a connection. "We are not going to allow our rights to be taken
away and then march with bowed heads to the gas chambers," Milk charged. "On this
anniversary of Stonewall, I ask my Gay sisters and brothers to make their commitment
to fight. For themselves, for their freedom, for their country."
25
What had become his
signature opening line, full of humor and bite, said it all: "I'm Harvey Milk and I'm here
to recruit you." At long last, after months of public debates with Briggs, Milk held sway.
On 7 November 1978, Proposition 6 was defeated by more than a million votes—3.9 to
2.8 million, and 58 to 42 percent.
26
In his victory speech, Milk cast his gaze on the
future. He said, "The next step . . . is for all those gays who did not come out, for
whatever reasons, to do so now. To come out to all your family . . . to come out to all
your friends—the coming out of a nation will smash the myths once and for all."
27
Much has been said about those final weeks between the euphoria of the
Proposition
6
defeat
and
the
assassinations
of
Milk
and
Mayor
Moscone
on
27
November 1978 by fellow supervisor Dan White. White had opposed Milk's citywide gay
rights
ordinance
out
of
personal
homophobia
and
some
entrenched
prejudicial
ideologies he claimed to be a part of his very conservative Catholic upbringing. In
addition, he had always been openly jealous of Milk's public popularity and the media
attention he attracted. For someone who came in with Milk as a fellow "freshman"
supervisor, White seemed always to play second fiddle—a part in the orchestra that he
found doubly demeaning as the city's preferred public official was a gay man. During
their first year in City Hall, White resigned from his post out of frustration, only then to
demand a reinstatement. Moscone had refused this and Milk had agreed. In a fury,
White shot both Moscone and Milk several times while they worked in City Hall.
28
Much
too has been said about Milk's eerie fatalism, as well as his longstanding prediction that
he'd die early and his preoccupation with the possibility of his assassination. His
existential trembling no doubt was exacerbated by proliferating death threats and the
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 70
deep exhaustion of the anti‐Briggs campaign. In the end, Milk is known as a profound
and
unapologetic
populist.
He
reached
his
peak
of
balancing
appeals
to
diverse
audiences with rallying the gay community in his "You've Got to Have Hope" address,
which was first drafted in the summer of 1977. This is the speech examined below.
Milk's Message of Hope
The
"Hope
Speech"
was
initially
conceived
as
a
campaign
stump
address,
wherein Milk attempted to embolden a strong gay community within The Castro, while
also appealing for an alliance with other marginalized groups and straight folks. Perhaps
his subjectivities as a white man had something to do with this smoothing‐over; in fact,
it is likely that his gender and race qualified him (more) as a political candidate in the
first place. Regardless, Milk took up the mantle of the inclusive gay community in San
Francisco in the summer of 1977. The speech was delivered at the San Francisco Gay
Community Center on 24 June where Milk announced his third bid for City Supervisor
from District 5. The topic of "hope" was a central theme—a transcendent "hope" that
"all will be alright" (73).
29
According to his speechwriter Frank Robinson, the "hope
trope" was used because Harvey saw his campaign and success as a synecdoche of
possibilities for all.
30
He scripted the promise of gay, subaltern, and allied communities
across his campaign. "Hope" by way of his election indicated that "a greenlight [would
be] lit . . . a green light that says to all who feel lost and disenfranchised that you can go
forward"
(74).
His
election
would
become
the
manifest
reality,
the
material
embodiment, of that promise by moving the ideal of progress into the literal offices of
City Hall, thereby illuminating the way for gay communities across the nation.
Milk's Populist Rhetoric—A Call for Alliances
Populist rhetoric at its base, Michael Lee argues, involves a people who "share
several characteristics" and are "rendered as ordinary, simple, honest, [and] hard‐
working."
31
Indeed, Milk seemed to work through this construct, and at first did so by
focusing
on
the
"people"
of
San
Francisco
as
the
core
of
the
city.
This
"city
of
neighborhoods" was not just a physical place, but a geopolitical space comprised of
those who held it up against the odds by virtue of their vapor, hands, and sweat.
32
In
announcing his candidacy, Milk noted that "A city isn't a collection of buildings—it isn't
downtown with the . . . TransAmerica Tower, it isn't the parking lots or the freeways or
the theatres or the massage parlors. A city is people" (4). In fact, the city at the time
boasted 675,000 people, 60,000 in Milk's area of District 5.
One of the interesting rhetorical moves that Milk made related to his populism
was the blending of personal and communal dimensions of the people. He reminded his
audience that "[e]ach of those people has his
or her
own hopes and aspirations, his
or
her
own viewpoints and problems.
33
Each of them contributes something unique to the
life of the city. What they contribute, we call the 'quality of life'" (5). Thus, each person
brought to bear their singular roles in the co‐construction of the city. After all, the city
and its buildings were nothing more than what Milk called "concrete hives for the
warehousing of workers, monuments to
people's
greeds [sic] and needs" (6). Milk
maintained that it was not until "people return in the morning to flick the lights back on
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 71
and fill the corridors with bustle and activity" that the city came to life (6). Ultimately,
Milk emphasized the importance of peoples' unity‐in‐presence within San Francisco.
Emphasizing the role of the people constituted a hallmark of Milk's populist
rhetoric. Populism, too, includes the gathering of a people in opposition to a larger
power. Or, as Lee explains it, a people's imagined community contains a narrative of
"unseating an enemy that has an unyielding commitment to hoarding power . . .
whatever manner the 'people' . . . are defined, the enemy stands in opposition."
34
In
Milk's case, he concomitantly positioned the enemy (big business and monied interests)
negatively while also constituting his people's identity steeped in coalition building.
Indeed, Karen Foss writes of Milk that "he was a representative for all underrepresented
groups
in
the
city."
35
Ostensibly,
Milk
argued
that
a
united
front
based
not
on
subjectivities, but rather on commitments to act and loyalties to one another was
needed to concretize a peopled city. As he insisted, "the opposite of love is not hate …
It's indifference" (17, 18).
Thus, Milk argued that tepid support or, worse, complicity with the
status quo
,
should be disdained as much as hate. To act, he contended that his audience needed to
recognize that "it's no longer the Seniors, the unemployed, the Asian community, the
Gays, the Blacks, the Latins, and so forth. They're all US. It's US against THEM. If you add
up all the US'es, you'll find we outnumber the THEMS. And yet the THEMS control" (19).
There
was
an
appeal
here
to
power
in
numbers—and
a
moral
certainty
to
pool
resources to fight the system. These THEMS, he continued, "are the real outside
agitators in our communities, and they've been there for years" (20). (Notice how he
transposed the label of "agitator" to demonstrate the certitude of activists.) One of
Milk's imparted lessons was for his constituencies to move together, actively and in
solidarity, thereby recognizing that they were themselves, the masses. At the same
time, he insisted that the system was both fallible and permeable. But, he averred, a
system's ruptures could not be exposed and breached by half‐hearted efforts. As he
said, "actions speak louder than campaign literature" (39).
To extrapolate from cultural theorist Stuart Hall, Milk seemed to be a real‐life
example of the charge for "interventionists." Against the reality of grave injustices, Hall
asked, are we only doing empty, ideal work or actual work on the ground?
36
Milk may
have answered that activists needed to theorize
ideally
, but most importantly, they
needed to walk shoulder to shoulder as angry brothers and sisters to enact a unified
front to demystify power structures—the THEMs—who
thought
they were the sole
purveyors of voice.
Following suit, Milk invited his audience to participate in a communal enterprise
to take up the mantle of change for the people of San Francisco's District 5. He exhorted
them to remain close and to avoid being tempted by the system's tendency to separate.
He argued,
It's the THEMS who benefit when the Gays and the Blacks and the Latins
fight amongst themselves. It's the THEMS who want to tear down the
homes and community centers of the USes for their special pet projects.
It's the THEMS who divide—and conquer…[i]t's your money [tax
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 72
dollars]. Oh, there's a crumb here and there that's tossed to the different
communities. They fund a program, anoint a few "leaders" to run it who
then go into the community and shout: "Look what
they've
done for
us
!" (20, 23).
In a way, Milk called into question those tokenized leaders of individual subaltern
groups for falling prey to monied interests. Such a granting of "special pet projects"
really obscured deeper concerns of oppression. This rhetoric of control obfuscated
problems
and
silenced
by
appearing
to
be
progressive.
Milk
continued
that
"the
anointed leaders get a few crumbs—and therefore sing the praises of their masters. And
the community gets a few invisible specks" (24). Those gay leaders who attempted to
shut
Milk
up
and,
therefore,
shut
down
his
populist
campaign
for
change
were
positioned by Milk as "Uncle Toms—and yes, the Gay community has its fair share" (24).
Of course, Milk was essentializing his dominant opposition in the larger gay community.
Surely, some in the gay establishment concurred with Milk's politics and methods of
social change. However, it may have been politically expedient for Milk to call them all
into question during this, his first address of the 1977 campaign. As he moved forward,
he reasoned that only a coalition of the people could stymie the aims of the system. Yet
concurrently, as the next section will show, when it came to issues related to the gay
community
specifically,
Milk
championed—insisted
on,
really—the
need
for
gay‐
centered leadership, which marked a departure from his coalition‐building that served
as a key component of his leadership vision.
The Importance of LGBTQ‐Centered Leadership
Although Milk was demonstrably and passionately dedicated to coalitions when
it came time to challenge the larger system, the representation of the gay community
within that larger populist gathering truly presented a problem for Milk. The third space
through which Milk gingerly tiptoed between populism and strong gay leadership
revealed the complications of his position. Recall that there were those in the larger gay
community who were complicit in their quieted roles within the city. Theirs was a
politics ensconced in valuing sameness, while sublimating difference. Thus, Milk had to
connect with other subaltern groups, but also prove to his hardcore cadre of activists
that he was committed to fomenting change
within
the larger community as well.
Milk considered deeply the implication of gay leaders directing social change for
the gay community. He, of course, called on all identity groups to ally with the gay
community, but he insisted that gay folks retain
prime
agency in the quest for progress.
He said,
[T]here's a tremendous and vital difference between a 'friend of the gay
communtiy' [sic] and an avowed Gay person in public office . . . the Black
community is not judged by its "friends" but by its black legislators and
leaders … A gay person in office can set a tone, can command respect not
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 73
only from the larger community but from the young people in our own
community who need both examples and
hope
(44, 49).
The U.S. nation's subaltern communities were impacted overall by injustices;
that is, wrongs levied on some were wrongs levied on all. But, Milk located the larger
gay community at the forefront of its own reform. Aside from the obvious centering of
voice, his words were vital to conveying to young people the powerful visibility of gay
men and lesbians.
This visibility translated into
hope
for those who felt disenfranchised. To this he
said, "For invisible we remain in limbo. A shadowy myth, a person who has no parents,
no
brothers,
no
sisters,
no
friends
who
are
straight,
no
important
positions
of
employment. A tenth of the nation . . . composed solely of
stereotypes
…" (48). This gay
presence (and the overall visibility of social justice efforts) was needed for younger folks
to see and consider in 1977, especially in the wake of Orange Tuesday and in the midst
of the Briggs Initiative, which threatened a social death for many gay men and lesbians.
Such oppression perhaps was rivaled only by the bathhouse and workplace witch hunts
that haunted the community during the twentieth century.
37
Milk's emphasis on the seriousness of reform campaigns served as motivation to
get his gay constituencies involved in their own communities. In Milk's time, Orange
Tuesday and the Briggs Initiative (Proposition 6) were matters of survival. This involved
economic survival, of course, but also social and political survival in terms of the
potential of civic engagement and democracy. In effect, these were considerations of
survival related of living and being together to work towards the "good life" free from
material effects of "phobias." Such issues were not to be taken lightly or to be seen as
only San Francisco‐based concerns. Instead, he said, they were to be seen as extensions
of the powerful national gay liberation politics of the late 1960s and especially after
Stonewall. Speaking of the Briggs issue specifically, he argued: "We had our street
marches, and they were nationwide. Six thousand here, six thousand in Chicago, 9
thousand in Houston …and who knows how many in New York and elsewhere. A nation
of Gay people … knew that this was our Watts, our Selma, Alabama" (52). Milk's analogy
is robust given the issues of survival surrounding Watts and Selma (and Birmingham)
during
the
1960s
mainstream
Civil
Rights
Movement's
many
direct‐confrontation
campaigns. Though one might critique his use of this African American analogy (as
someone with white privilege), it must be noted that he is linking oppressed groups for
the
purposes
of
community‐building.
Notice
here
that
Milk
moved
between
gay‐
centered activism and a coaligned reliance on the memories of black liberation to prove
his point.
Again,
Milk's
rhetoric
was
compromised,
as
he
was
a
candidate
for
City
Supervisor in a singular district that boasted a plurality of voices. In the end, though, he
concluded that the "first Gay person we elect must be strong, a fighter, one who is not
content to sit in the back of the bus. He must be above wheeling and dealing" (50).
Instead of being "interpreted" by outsiders—dominant publics and allies alike—he
intimated, "[n]either should the Gay community be judged by its minutely few Gay
criminals and myths. Like every group, we should be judged by our leaders. By those
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 74
who are themselves Gay. By those who are visible" (48). These efforts for presence and
utile politics of change could be accomplished for both gay communities
and
those
other
groups
comprising
the
"city
of
neighborhoods"
through
a
resounding,
transcendent theme of "hope," or what we deem the "hope trope."
The "Hope Trope" as Central to Milk's Discourse
As Milk moved into the conclusion of his address, he was able to attend to the
dilemma of emphasizing coalition‐building while also centering his own identity as a gay
leader. In a way, then, he put the gay community at the forefront of change, as a
veritable vanguard for uniting all people in the effort to increase acceptability of
differences and to demystify the dominant power's deleterious policies and sentiments
related to subaltern groups.
As a leader—and a gay leader, specifically—Milk spotlighted his own example of
hope and those men and women in his gay community before moving into themes of
"hope" for all. He claimed that "I'll never forget what it was like coming out . . . I use the
word 'I' because I'm proud of myself" (62, 64). Still, though, Milk realized that he did not
always represent the norm when it came to holding tight to hope, especially in the gay
community. Of his candidacy, he said:
And I'm running for public office because I think it's time we've had a
legislator who was gay and proud of that fact and one who
will not walk away from the responsibilities that face such a legislator. I
walked among the angry
and frustrated
. . . after Dade country [sic]
. . . .
I walked among the angry
and sad
gay sisters and brothers last night
at City Hall and late last night as they lit candles and stood in silence on
Castro Street reaching out for some symbolic thing that would give them
hope
(67).
Clearly a populist candidate, Milk mingled with those who felt disenfranchised. He had
seen
discontent;
he
had
experienced
his
own
closeting.
But,
ultimately,
out
of
despondency could come optimism. The fact that people joined together indicated
hope. The anger expressed and sadness used as motivation to move ahead pointed to
hope. And, when it really came down to it for Milk, "to them the only thing that they
have to look forward to is
hope
" (68).
The "hope trope" was not a disconnected and ethereal rhetorical tactic for Milk.
Rather, hope was possible because people—those in the "city of neighborhoods"—
could actually embody the concept. Milk had seen his own gay community face down
opposition and
still
live to fight another day. "These were strong people . . . people
whose faces I knew from the shops, the streets
,
meetings,
and
people whom I never
saw before,
but who I knew
," he said. "They were strong and even they needed
hope
"
(68). Again, he focused his initial call for hope in the gay community.
As Milk maneuvered through the liminal space of a general social change leader
and
a
simultaneous
gay
leader,
he
faced
down
the
complications
of
his
blended
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 75
populism and gay‐centered politics. And, he did this by connecting his example of gay
strength to multivocal communities. He appealed to his allies:
Without
hope
not only the gays but the blacks, the seniors, the poor, the
handicape [sic]
the USes
give up . . . . if you help me get elected that
election—
no it is not my election it is yours—it
will mean
that
a green
light is lit . . . . a green light that says to all who feel lost and
disenfranchised that you
now
can go forward—it means
hope
and we—
no
, you and you and
you
and yes
you
got to
give them hope (74).
What stands out in this passage is the way that Milk both positions himself and his
candidacy as central to hope, but also provides his audiences with the agency to
internalize hope
and
spread the word of hope for all.
In sum, Milk's message of "hope" was an inspiration to his constituency groups—
the true embodiments and purveyors of hope. The most famous line from his speech
was: "YOU have to give them hope. Hope for a better world. Hope for a better
tomorrow . . . and we—NO—you and you and you . . . yes, you gotta give 'em hope"
(74). Such agency to act in important, noticeable, and meaningful ways directed his
audiences to consider themselves as powerful agents of change. The power here, in a
temporal way, seemed not just limited to their present milieu in 1977, but it was also
transcendent—speaking to future political efforts involving (later) LGBTQ issues and
persons. And while Milk's message helped get him elected, and later helped pass
citywide
legislation
to
improve
workplace
conditions
for
gay
folks
and
other
disenfranchised groups, perhaps the definitive impact of Milk's "hope trope" in the
speech is how we figure into our public memory his message some three decades later.
The Legacy of the Speech—An Invitation to Consider Milk
Though we cannot attribute causality or intent, it appears that Milk's "You've Got
to Have Hope" speech delivered on 24 June 1977 contributed to his overall campaign for
the San Francisco Board of Supervisors some five months later. Moreover, as Milk
massaged his speech into an address to oppose the Briggs Initiative throughout 1978, it
is likely that the message of "hope" he related to his audiences helped shore‐up a strong
gay and allied movement to defeat Proposition 6. As mentioned above, Milk played a
key role in Proposition 6's downfall; without deterministically correlating his words to
the ultimate fate of the Briggs Initiative, we still might be able to ascertain with high
probability that his words
mattered
in the campaign.
Regardless of the empirical or immediate legacy of the speech, we choose
instead to focus on the use of Milk's speech, and most vitally his theme of "hope" and
his memory in the service of larger ripples of effect. The importance of spotlighting
Milk's legacy is vital to the well being of (current) LGBTQ youth, and the (contemporary)
LGBTQ community as whole. The ongoing eradication of gay history, politics, and culture
is precisely what he died fighting. Again, it is noteworthy that among Milk's greatest
political achievements was the successful defeat of Proposition 6; contemporarily, it
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 76
may be fitting that Milk's memory continues to influence campaigns for larger issues of
social change regarding LGBTQ politics and those of other subaltern communities.
This essay began by mentioning the important timing of current work on Milk in
the wake of the 2008 feature film
Milk
. The acclaimed biopic rediscovered and, for both
gay and straight audiences, introduced the name and political life of Harvey Milk to new
generations. "Milk" retrieved, if within the limits of Hollywood history, the Castro's first
decade as gay Mecca or Oz, the time before AIDS when sex and struggle created a
visibility never before experienced to such an extent by gay peoples in the United
States.
Such
a
glimpse
of
gay
and
LGBTQ
pasts
is
rare.
Heteronormativity
and
homophobia have made the erasure of gay and LGBTQ history and memory, and
ongoing forms of forgetting even within our own communities, the lamentable norm.
Moreover, the stakes of the film deepened because of the timing of its release in
late fall of 2008, again, amid the battle over Proposition 8, the ballot initiative and
constitutional amendment that would prohibit same‐sex marriage in California. As we
noted earlier, numerous articles have marked parallels between the Proposition 8 fight
and Milk's successful campaign, during his first and only year in office against the Briggs
Initiative. Even though Proposition 6 in Milk's time failed, Proposition 8 passed. Despite
the wrenching disappointment, many believed that Milk's memory spurred by the film
had re‐politicized LGBTQ peoples in the 2000s, reigniting the movement. "We need
Harvey Milk now," someone told
USA Today
. "This movie reminds us what it's like to
fight for our rights, something I think many of us have forgotten how to do."
38
Echoing
the
Advocate
, which dramatically announced "the Resurrection of Harvey Milk," people
wondered aloud "What would Harvey do?" and "What if Milk had lived?"
39
Such
questions and the discourses that inspired them revealed a robust public memory of
Milk. In the few years since the film, Milk's legacy has remained amplified. The "hope"
for increased attention to Milk's historical "Hope Speech" is that Milk will resonate for
generations of LGBTQ people fighting for their rights and protections, folks engaged in
queer world making, and allies committed to the same. And there is "hope" that,
perhaps, his memory will inspire the social change efforts of numerous communities as
well.
At the same time as we believe work on Milk's discourse reflects and enhances
this resurgence of his memory, it might be wise to consider this moment fleeting, to fret
over
the
prospects
of
losing
Milk's
memory once
more
to
shifting
interests.
One
example of concern is highlighted by Milk protégé and AIDS Quilt founder Cleve Jones
who published an editorial in the
Bay Area Reporter
in November 2005 in support of a
Harvey Milk Memorial Committee. Jones recounted that he and a friend, while having a
drink at Edge in the Castro, struck up a conversation with a young gay man who
responded to their reminiscing about Harvey with the question, "Who was Harvey
Milk?" This was hard for Jones to digest. More alarming, once having been told Milk's
story, a story that perhaps had helped make possible three gay men actually having such
a conversation in a gay neighborhood in the United States, this twenty‐something could
not grasp the legacy, comparing without irony, Milk's impact to that of pop singing star
Avril Lavigne.
40
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 77
Jones' point, an important one, is that gay and LGBTQ history and memory are
fragile, rarely taught and subject to trivialization. The remedy to such presentism and
erasure is to engage in an ongoing effort to circulate LGBTQ pasts and conjure their
presence.
What
historian
George
Chauncey
observed
in
the
context
of
gay
male
subculture in the early twentieth century remains true for diverse LGBTQ communities
today, it seems. He contended, that "[W]e need to invent—and constantly reinvent—a
tradition on the basis of innumerable individual and idiosyncratic readings of [queer]
texts.
.
.
.
embed
its
transmission
in
the
day‐to‐day
social
organization
of
[our]
world..."
41
The stories that people tell about gay and LGBTQ pasts provide resources and
inspiration in present struggles—from historic battles over gay marriage and "Don't Ask,
Don't Tell" to preventing suicides by bullied queer youth—and shape the queer futures
we imagine. When Harvey talked, he was hard to forget. This is what Horacio Ramírez
calls "talking history" or the "talking archive"—"the process of narrating the lives of
those who passed on and the meanings the archives communicate back to those
committed to listening."
42
The morning of 27 November 1978—when Harvey's eerie prophecy came to
fruition ("a bullet shall pass through my brain," he said)—issued a profound silence.
43
A
silence at first empowered and marked by communities in the thousands vowing to
never remain so again, followed by a silence that took a downturn in the tempest of
AIDS and the early prison release of Milk's assassin Dan White. Perhaps the greatest
legacy of Milk's "You've Got to Have Hope" is tripartite: a theme of "hope" steeped in
populism and the trumpeting of all oppressed peoples' rights; a theme of "hope"
centered in gay‐led politics; and a "hope" that remains transcendent and participatory
for all people—even in our own time.
___________________________
Jason Edward Black
is associate professor in the Department of Communication Studies
and an affiliate professor in Gender and Race Studies at The University of Alabama in
Tuscaloosa.
Charles
E.
Morris
III
is
associate
professor
in
the
Department
of
Communication at Boston College. The authors would like to thank the following
individuals for their help with both this essay and a larger project on Harvey Milk's
discourse: Frank Robinson, Danny Nicoletta, Tim Wilson, Susan Goldstein, David Lamble,
Walter Caplan, Rebekah Kim, Daniel Bao, Cynthia Laird, Thomas Horn, Tom Spitz, and
Alex Cherian. They would also like to thank Shawn Parry‐Giles and the anonymous
reviewers
for
their
helpful
feedback.
Finally,
the
authors
acknowledge
Benjamin
Kimmerle and Gyromas Newman for their incredible efforts in helping process Milk's
papers.
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 78
NOTES
1 See Marco R. della Cava, "The Timing Finally is Right for 'Milk,'"
USA Today
,
November 24, 2008, 2D. See also: Jesse McKinley, "Back to the Ramparts in California,"
New York Times
, November 2, 2008, 5; Michael Cieply, "Activists Seek to Tie 'Milk' to a
Campaign for Gay Rights,"
New York Times
, November 22, 2008, C1; Matt Budd, "'Milk':
We
Need
Him
Now
More
Than
Ever,"
The
Huffington
Post
,
November
26,
2008:
http://www.alternet.org/story/108847/
;
and
Michael
Martin,
"The
Resurrection
of
Harvey Milk,"
The Advocate
, November 18, 2008, 33‐44.
2
We
use
the
identifier
Lesbian,
Gay,
Bisexual,
Transgendered,
and
Queer
(LGBTQ) to indicate contemporary subject positions of larger, inclusive communities
often referred to as "gay" in the past. There have always been many dimensions and
contours of these subject positions; however, contemporary politics and discourse now
allow for more specificity in the consideration of these communities. When we discuss
the context of Milk's time period and his politics we indicate these communities by the
term "gay," which was inclusive of myriad genders and sexualities (i.e., gay men,
lesbians, bisexuals and often transgendered folks). More often than not, however, the
term "gay" was embodied and dominated by men's voices in the 1970s. Still, this term is
accurate in its use for this time period. Ultimately, we want readers to be made aware
that there are differences between the term "LGBTQ" and "gay." Certainly, much of this
has to do with time period, but recognized nuances of human sexualities in today's age
also remain part of this change in rhetorical nomination. As an additional note, readers
might take into consideration that the previously prejudicial term "queer" that harmed
many in what were once called "gay communities" has been appropriated by LGBTQ
communities as a socio‐political position of empowerment based on and in one's
sexuality/ies.
3 For more, see: Harvey Milk Civil Rights Academy School, Website, retrieved
from
http://harveymilk.com/
on February 4, 2010; Rob Epstein (director; writer),
The
Times of Harvey Milk
(San Francisco, CA: Black Sand Productions, 2005); Donald
Runnicles (producer),
Harvey Milk: An Opera in Three Acts
(San Francisco, CA: San
Francisco Opera, 1998); Harvey Milk City Hall Memorial Committee, website, retrieved
from
http://www.milkmemorial.org/
on February 4, 2010; Randy Shilts,
The Mayor of
Castro Street: The Life and Times of Harvey Milk
(New York: St. Martin's Press, 1982);
and Equality California, "AB2567 Fact Sheet," retrieved from
http://www.eqca.org/atf
on February 4
, 2010.
4 Shilts,
Mayor of Castro Street
, 349‐375.
5 For instance, see: Josh Gottheimer (ed.),
Ripples of Hope: Great American Civil
Rights Speeches
(New York: Civitas Books, 2003), 366‐370.
6 Dustin Lance Black and Armistead Maupin,
Milk: A Pictorial History of Harvey
Milk
(New York: Newmarket Press, 2009).
7 See Karen A. Foss, "Harvey Milk: 'You Have to Give Them Hope,'"
Journal of the
West
27 (April 1988): 75‐81; Karen A. Foss, "The Logic of Folly in the Political Campaigns
of Harvey Milk," in
Queer Words, Queer Images: Communication and the Construction of
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 79
Homosexuality
, ed. R. Jeffrey Ringer (New York: New York University Press, 1994), 7‐29;
Karen A. Foss, "Harvey Milk," in
Reader's Guide to Lesbian and Gay Studies
, ed. Timothy
F. Murphy (Chicago, IL: Fitzroy Dearborn, 2000), 397‐399; Karen A. Foss, "Harvey Milk,"
in
Encyclopedia
of
American
Lesbian,
Gay,
Bisexual,
and
Transgender
History
and
Culture
, vol 2., ed. Marc Stein (New York: Scribner's, 2004), 265‐266; Karen A. Foss,
"Harvey Bernard Milk," in
Contemporary American Orators: A Bio‐Critical Sourcebook
,
ed. Bernie Duffy and Richard Leeman (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2005), 324‐329;
and Karen A. Foss, "Harvey Milk and the Queer Rhetorical Situation: A Rhetoric of
Possibility," in
Queering Public Address: Sexualities in American Public Discourse
, ed.
Charles E. Morris III (Columbia: University of South Carolinas Press, 2007), 74‐92.
8 Several biographical accounts or works on San Francisco and the Castro—a
veritable Gay Mecca during the 1970s to the present—have been published. But none
have studied deeply Milk
in his own words
. For detailed explanations of the complex
changes in San Francisco that made possible the significant growth of LGBT culture and
politics, and the birth of the Castro as we have come to know it, see: Timothy Stewart‐
Winter, "The Castro: Origins to the Age of Milk,"
The Gay and Lesbian Review Worldwide
16 (January‐February 2009), 12‐15; Josh Sides,
Erotic City: Sexual Revolutions and the
Making of Modern San Francisco
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2009); Winston
Leyland, ed.,
Out in the Castro: Desire, Promise, Activism
(San Francisco, CA: Leyland
Publications, 2002); Dudley Clendinen and Adam Nagourney,
Out for Good: The Struggle
to Build a Gay Rights Movement in America
(New York: Simon and Schuster, 1999), 148‐
163; Benjamin Heim Shepard,
White Nights and Ascending Shadows: An Oral History of
the San Francisco AIDS Epidemic
(London: Cassell, 1997); Richard Edward DeLeon,
Left
Coast City: Progressive Politics in San Francisco, 1975‐1991
(Lawrence: University Press
of Kansas, 1992), 40‐56; John D'Emilio, "Gay Politics, Gay Community: San Francisco's
Experience," in
Making Trouble: Essays on Gay History, Politics, and the University
, ed.
John D'Emilio (New York: Routledge, 1992): 74‐95; Frances Fitzgerald,
Cities on a Hill: A
Journey through Contemporary American Cultures
(New York: Simon and Schuster,
1986); and Shilts,
The Mayor of Castro Street
.
9 For pre‐Castro LGBT history in San Francisco, see Allan Bérubé,
Coming Out
Under Fire: The History of Gay Men and Women in World War Two
(New York: Free
Press, 1990); Susan Stryker and Jim Van Buskirk,
Gay by the Bay: A History of Queer
Culture in the San Francisco Bay Area
(San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books, 1996); Nan
Alamilla Boyd,
Wide Open Town: A History of Queer San Francisco to 1965
(Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2003); Ramírez, "A Living Archive of Desire"; Marcia M.
Gallo,
Different Daughters: A History of the Daughters of Bilitis and the Rise of the
Lesbian
Rights
Movement
(San
Francisco,
CA:
Seal
Press,
2007);
Susan
Stryker,
Transgender History
(San Francisco, CA: Seal Press, 2008); and J. Todd Ormsbee,
The
Meaning of Gay: Interaction, Publicity, and Community among Homosexual Men in
1960s San Francisco
(Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2010).
10 Quoted in Stewart‐Winter, "The Castro," 14.
11 See Sides,
Erotic City
, 83‐122.
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 80
12 Elizabeth Armstrong,
Forging Gay Identities: Organizing Sexuality in San
Francisco, 1950‐1994
(Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2002), esp. 97‐133.
13 Shilts,
The Mayor of Castro Street
, 10, 71‐72.
14 Deeper understanding of the gay political establishment in San Francisco can
be found in the pages of the
Bay Area Reporter
, which began publication in 1971. See
also Clendinen and Nagourney,
Out for Good
, 161‐163.
15 Clendinen and Nagourney,
Out for Good
, 343‐344; and Shilts,
The Mayor of
Castro Street
, 95‐110.
16 Shilts,
The Mayor of Castro Street
, 155. See also: Gold, "A Walk on San
Francisco's Gay Side."
17 For details of the Dade County repeal fight, see Tom Mathews, "Battle over
Gay Rights,"
Newsweek
(June 6, 1977), 16‐26; Clendinen and Nagourney,
Out for Good
,
291‐311; Cleve Jones,
Stitching a Revolution: The Making of an Activist
(San Francisco,
CA: HarperSanFrancisco, 2000), chapter 5; Eisenbach,
Gay Power
, chapter 10; and Fred
Fejes,
Gay Rights and Moral Panic: The Origins of America's Debate on Homosexuality
(New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), chapters 3‐5.
18 Clendinen and Nagourney,
Out for Good
, 336‐337.
19 For more, see Armstrong,
Forging Gay Identities
, especially chapters six and
seven.
20 Quoted in Shilts,
The Mayor of Castro Street
, 183. For discussion of the
campaign, see: Shilts,
The Mayor of Castro Street
, chapter 11; Milk, "The Life and Death
of Harvey Milk," 36‐39; Wong, "Harvey," 19‐25; and Anne Kronenberg, "Everybody
Needed Milk," in
Out in the Castro: Desire, Promise, Activism
, ed. Winston Leyland (San
Francisco, CA: Leyland Publications, 2002): 37‐43.
21 Quoted in Shilts,
The Mayor of Castro Street
, 190. For discussion of Milk's
inauguration and opening acts and speeches as supervisor, see Shilts,
The Mayor of
Castro Street
, chapter 12; Randy Alfred, "Milk Sworn In: SF Gay Goes to City Hall,"
GAYVOTE
(San Francisco Gay Democratic Club newsletter) 1 (January 1978): 1, 4, found
in James C. Hormel Gay & Lesbian Center of the San Francisco Public Library, GLC35,
Milk‐Smith Collection, Box 4, Series 2a. G.
22 Quoted in Shilts,
The Mayor of Castro Street
, 358.
23 Briggs' campaign against gay teachers was particularly appalling because
ideology, such as Bryant's evangelicalism, did not motivate him. Reporter Robert Shrum
wrote, "Briggs recalled that, 'Reagan was going down the tubes in 1976 until he came up
with Panama as an issue.' So Briggs came up with his own issue, 'the homosexual issue,'
rating it 'the hottest social issue since Reconstruction.'" Although Briggs claimed "it was
when he flew to Miami to volunteer for Bryant's crusade that the Lord inspired him with
the Briggs Initiative," his inspiration, as Shilts argues, likely came rather from his will for
power: "it seemed highly doubtful from the start that John Briggs ever really had
anything personal against gays. He was just running for governor. 'It's just politics . . .
just
politics.'"
After
the
gubernatorial
prospects
faded,
Briggs
pressed
on
with
Proposition 6 because it likely represented his last best hope for the political limelight.
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 81
See: Robert Shrum, "Gay‐Baiting in California: Sexual Politics in the Classroom,"
New
Times
, September 4, 1978, 23‐24; and Shilts,
The Mayor of Castro Street
, 157‐58, 241.
24 Shilts,
The Mayor of Castro Street
, 239.
25 For a discussion of Holocaust rhetoric in the history of the struggle for gay
rights, see Arlene Stein, "Whose Memories? Whose Victimhood? Contests for the
Holocaust Frame in Recent Social Movement Discourse,"
Sociological Perspectives
41
(1998): 519‐540.
26 Clendinen and Nagourney,
Out for Good
, 381‐390; and Shrum, "Gay‐Baiting in
the Classroom," 24‐27.
27 In Shilts,
The Mayor of Castro Street
, 250.
28 For more on the assassinations, see John Geluardi, "Dan White's Motive More
about
Betrayal
than
Homophobia,"
San
Francisco
Weekly
(January
30,
2008):
http://www.sfweekly.com/2008‐01‐30/news/white‐in‐milk/4/#
on February 4, 2010.
See also: Mike Weiss,
Double Play: The Hidden Passions Behind the Double Assassination
of George Moscone and Harvey Milk
(San Francisco, CA: Vince Emery Productions,
2010/1984).
29 Harvey Bernard Milk, "You've Got to Have Hope." In San Francisco Public
Library, James C. Hormel Gay and Lesbian Center "Harvey Milk Archives—Scott Smith
Collection,"
collection
number
GLC
35,
Box
9.
All
references
to
this
speech
will
correspond to a paragraph number in the speech text found in the supplement to this
Voices of Democracy
unit.
30 Interview with the authors on 8 August 2007.
31
Michael
Lee,
"The
Populist
Chameleon:
The
People's
Party,
Huey
Long,
George Wallace, and the Populist Argumentative Frame,"
Quarterly Journal of Speech
92
(2006): 358.
32 Shilts,
Mayor of Castro Street
, 353.
33
The
material
in
bold
represents
the
handwritten
comments
that
were
inserted into Harvey Milk's speaking manuscript.
34 Lee, "The Populist Chameleon," 359.
35 Foss, "Harvey Bernard Milk," 324.
36 Stuart Hall, "Cultural Studies and its Theoretical Legacies," in ed. Simon
During,
The Cultural Studies Reader
, 3d (London: Routledge, 2007), 42.
37 For more on such campaigns to find and prosecute gay men and lesbians for
their sexualities, see Ormsbee,
The Meaning of Gay
.
38 della Cava, "The Timing Finally is Right for 'Milk,'" 2D.
39 Martin, "The Resurrection of Harvey Milk," 33‐44.
40 Cleve Jones, "Support Milk Memorial Project,"
Bay Area Reporter
, November
24, 2005.
41 George Chauncey,
Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Making of
the Gay Male World, 1890‐1940
(New York: Basic Books, 1994), 283
42 Horacio N. Rocque Ramírez, "A Living Archive of Desire: Teresita la Campesina
and the Embodiment of Queer Latino Community Histories,"
Archive Stories: Facts,
Voices of Democracy
6 (2011): 63‐82 Black & Morris 82
Fictions, and the Writing of History
, ed. Antoinette Burton (Durham, NC: Duke University
Press, 2005), 130.
43 Quoted in Rob Epstein (director; writer),
The Times of Harvey Milk
(San
Francisco, CA: Black Sand Productions, 2005).