In a controversial move that has drawn sharp criticism from advocates and former colleagues, U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS) recently altered the official portrait of Rachel L. Levine — the first openly transgender person confirmed by the U.S. Senate in a high‑level role.
What changed — and where
Levine’s photograph remains on the wall of the seventh floor of the Humphrey Building in Washington, D.C., among the portraits of individuals who have led the federal Public Health Service Commissioned Corps. But under the glass of her frame — where her nameplate once showed her legal name — the name has now been replaced with a prior name (commonly called a “deadname”).
The change was made during the recent federal government shutdown, when HHS underwent a staff transition. The updated nameplate now reflects her previous name, effectively erasing her transgender identity from the display.
Reactions — from Levine and others
Levine herself has responded with measured dignity, stating that serving the American people was a great honor and declining to comment directly on what she called “this type of petty action.”
In contrast, former colleagues and LGBTQ+ advocates have condemned the alteration as “unprecedented,” “petty,” and “an act of bigotry.” One former deputy assistant secretary for health, Adrian Shanker, called the removal of her current legal name “a troubling misuse of institutional authority,” arguing it sends a message of erasure to transgender individuals.
Official justification — and broader implications
In a statement to media, HHS spokesperson Andrew Nixon said the department’s “priority is ensuring that the information presented internally and externally by HHS reflects gold standard science.” According to the statement, the renaming reflects the administration’s commitment to “biological reality” and a shift away from policies enacted under Levine’s leadership.
Critics argue this is far more than a symbolic change — it reflects a broader institutional rollback of transgender recognition within the federal government. For many, the replacement of Levine’s name with a deadname is part of a pattern: the current administration has already taken steps to rescind protections and policies for transgender and intersex individuals across multiple agencies.
Why this matters
- Symbolism matters — Portraits lining the walls of major government buildings represent institutional memory, milestones, and the people who shaped public health policy. Changing Levine’s name erases not just a name but an identity and history.
- Visibility for transgender individuals — For many in the LGBTQ+ community, Levine’s confirmation and presence in such a high-ranking role was historic. The removal of her recognized name sends a chilling message about belonging and legitimacy under current leadership.
- Power and politics influencing public health institutions — The official explanation about “biological reality” echoes political rhetoric aimed at reshaping how gender identity is recognized within federal agencies. But critics say such moves undermine trust in public health leadership among marginalized groups, potentially harming outreach, inclusion, and equity.
What happened — in context
Levine served as the 17th Assistant Secretary for Health from March 2021 to January 2025, and as a four-star admiral in the Public Health Service Commissioned Corps — the first openly transgender person to hold such a rank.
During her tenure, she worked on major public health crises, including COVID‑19 response, the opioid epidemic, and initiatives addressing HIV/AIDS and LGBTQ+ health disparities.
Her portrait, displayed after Senate confirmation, symbolized a milestone for representation. The revision of her name plate — especially during a government shutdown and administrative transition — stands out as a deeply political act, rather than a bureaucratic formality.
What’s next — public response & longer‑term significance
The alteration has sparked alarm within LGBTQ+ communities, public health advocates, and government personnel who see this as a form of erasure of transgender contributions. Some HHS staff — speaking anonymously — reportedly describe the act as “disrespectful” and worrying for institutional culture.
At a moment when transgender rights across multiple US agencies are under renewed scrutiny, the name change is likely to stir more debate about how history, identity, and recognition are preserved — or removed — by political shifts.
As one observer quoted by a media outlet put it: this isn’t just about a nameplate. It’s a message about who gets seen, who gets remembered — and who doesn’t.
