This middle-grade biography of Harvey Milk has its heart in the right place, but stumbles in many ways, particularly around Milk’s Jewish identity. The core facts of Milk’s life as presented here seem accurate enough, and Milk is shown as a positive changemaker, but many of the phrasings go astray.
Here are some of the moments that I found most objectionable:
Most unfortunately, the book says of Milk’s mother Minnie, “Intense and possessive like a real Jewish mother, Minnie had a soft spot for Harvey, her baby.” As a Jewish mother myself, from a long line of Jewish mothers, I find that stereotype offensive. Am I not a “real” Jewish mother if I am not intense and possessive? Let’s be clear: This is a negative stereotype.
Additionally, we learn that after Milk’s college graduation in June 1951, his mother “cooked a delicious Jewish meal: schnitzels, blintzes, a potato flour cake….” Hold it right there. I’m of Lithuanian Jewish descent, like Milk, and I’ve never heard of a “potato flour cake” except as something that would be made during Passover (when most forms of wheat flour are prohibited)—but Passover is earlier in the year. Alternatively, “potato flour cake” might be a mistranslation of “potato latkes” or “potato pancakes,” which are a Hanukkah food and thus also unseasonal in June. Sure, one could have these foods at any time of year, but it feels unlikely (especially Passover foods made with wheat-flour substitutes, which are rarely made at other times). I can find no evidence of what Milk’s mother actually cooked for his graduation meal, but I have to wonder if author Safia Amor just compiled several foods that seemed Jewish. (Adding to my skepticism is that she didn’t specify the type of blintz. The more usual cheese-filled ones would never have been served with schnitzel, since Harvey’s mother kept a kosher home (per Harvey Milk: His Lives and Death, by Lillian Faderman), where mixing meat and milk in the same meal is forbidden. Potato and meat blintzes do exist, but the fact that author didn’t specify makes me again think she’s somewhat ineptly making this up.)
In another scene, Milk reflects on some of his childhood experiences. One day, he recalls, when splashing with friends in a fountain at the park, one girl “screamed as soon as he touched her, when he really didn’t mean any harm, he was just teasing her a little.” Milk’s mother Minnie slaps him for this, but then “Immediately [regretted] her temper … and they both ended up laughing at the melodrama of the situation.” That makes it seem that she was ultimately okay with his behavior—which feels like a bad message to send to children today, given the importance of teaching them about consent. Even if this situation did really happen to Milk (and regardless of his intent, which was likely harmless), it feels like a badly chosen example for young readers today.
Several other parts of the book seem to connect negative personality characteristics with people’s weight or appearance. In the schoolyard, Milk “particularly liked water bombing Bill, that chubby guy who was always making fun of Dick, the only Black boy that played in the park with them.” Yes, this is a nice example of Harvey being an ally to the Black boy, but was it relevant to note that the bully was chubby? Additionally, after Milk opens a camera shop in San Francisco with his partner, “Their first visitor was a pudgy man with fine lips and piggy eyes,” who makes homophobic comments. Even if the visitor was of more than average weight in real life (although I don’t really know one way or the other), was it necessary to say that he was “pudgy” and “piggy”? Let’s think about the messages that young readers (of all body types) may be absorbing here. And when another bully harassed him, “Harvey could hardly hold himself back from smashing his fist into Glenn’s nasty pimply face.” Again, there’s no relevance in the fact that the bully was pimply, except to associate a poor complexion with a bad nature.
Some passages are simply unclear. When Milk is in the Navy, for example, he tells a friend he intends to leave because he’s “had enough” of the Navy’s homophobia. We then read that he was “forced to resign,” leaving it unclear as to whether he left of his own volition.
Other sentences are incorrect in how they refer to the LGBTQ community and/or its history. A few examples: “The Stonewall Inn, where police had conducted a raid which degenerated into several days of violence against the gay community,” would have been more accurately described as “… against the gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender community.” To say that the repeal of “Don’t ask, don’t tell” forbade “US Army recruiters and personnel” from asking about sexual orientation is misleading, since DADT and its repeal applied to the entire U.S. military, not just the Army. And it’s incorrect to say that today, “From housing to healthcare to hate crimes, Black and brown transgender people bear the brunt of anti-gay violence”—in actuality, they bear the brunt of “anti-trans violence.” Additionally, archaic phrases like “homosexual” and “lover” are used without indicating to young readers that they are archaic.
The suggested books for further reading also feel poorly chosen. They include eight books for adults about Milk and/or LGBTQ history, which are all above the target 10- to 14-year-old age range of Harvey Milk: No to Homophobia. They also include Akwaeke Emezi’s young adult novels Bitter and Pet and Hal Schrieve’s Out of Salem, all great, queer-inclusive books, but as young adult novels targeting ages 12-17, still for readers mostly older than the target for Harvey Milk: No to Homophobia (though there’s overlap in the 12-14-year-old range). Age range aside, it’s unclear why those novels of speculative fiction were chosen over any other LGBTQ-inclusive books; additional middle-grade books on LGBTQ history and historical figures might have been a better choice.
Content warnings: References to suicide (using the not-recommended phrasing “committed suicide”) and child molestation (as the book debunks the myth that gay people are child molesters).
While the book paints a positive portrait of Milk’s life and impact, there are enough errors and questionable phrasings that I must ultimately say no to it.
Translated by Ruth Diver.
