On the 45th Anniversary of Harvey Milk’s Death

By Honey Lee Cottrell

Story by Honey Lee Cottrell, on the anniversary of Harvey Milk’s death.

I associate Harvey Milk with "coming out."

The term made me think about how I revealed myself to others.

I did not consider myself closeted when I came to San Francisco from Michigan in 1969, but discretion was a way of life. Unless someone asked me point blank, I did not volunteer any information.

(C) HL Cottrell - prints of self portrait, right, and Amber Hollibaugh, left

My rule was “if they asked me, then I would tell ‘em.” Hardly anyone asked, though, and my parents did not get near the subject.

Harvey wanted us to tell everyone— with our parents at the top of our list. My mother did cry when I told her, and my father was honest in his judgment. He said he had lots of male friends whom he did not need to sleep with and I could do the same.

I met Harvey Milk in the early 70s on a quiet residential San Francisco street in the Sunset district— miles away from the Castro district, when he was running for Supervisor. …