It is fair to question whether any new version of the Francis Scott Key Bridge, which collapsed March 26 following a collision with a cargo ship, should continue to bear the name of the man who wrote the lyrics of the national anthem but who also enslaved as many as a half dozen people during a time when the shameful practice was flourishing in America.

Key was a lawyer and amateur poet in 1814 when he witnessed the bombardment of Fort McHenry during the Battle of Baltimore from a spot on the Patapsco River, near where the bridge would eventually stand. The resulting poem, “Defence of Fort M’Henry,” describing how the flag flying above the fort continued to wave, was eventually set to the tune of a popular British song to become “The Star-Spangled Banner,” which Congress adopted as the national anthem in 1931.

For generations, many Marylanders have been proud of that connection, accepting it at face value without digging deeper into Key’s history. That’s why the name of Francis Scott Key also adorns various public and private schools across the state, a hall at the University of Maryland, an auditorium at St. John’s College in Annapolis, a U.S. Navy submarine, a minor league baseball team in Frederick and much else. Baltimore’s most gushing Key tribute is not even the bridge; it’s the 1911 monument on Eutaw Place designed by French sculptor Antonin Mercié and replete with gold leaf and marble.

But in the half-century since the bridge was named after Key, civil rights efforts and understanding have continued to grow in America, along with the knowledge of how many revered, white, historical figures kept Black people in bondage — including Key, who is said to have considered them an “inferior race of people.”

With this as context, the Caucus of African American Leaders, an Anne Arundel County-based civil rights group, recently called for any repaired or replaced Key Bridge to be renamed after the late U.S. Rep. Parren J. Mitchell, the first Black congressman elected from Maryland. Others are likely to join the call to replace Key’s name, if not with Mitchell’s, then with the name of someone or something else. By 21st-century standards, it is simply incomprehensible to many Marylanders that we would choose to honor someone who supported slavery and personally benefited from that terrible institution, which continues to haunt each of us today in different ways. Replacing Key’s name is a matter that should be thoughtfully examined and publicly discussed.

Some will likely raise the question of what we are to make of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin and so many other founders if we’re judging such white historical figures by the prevailing moral attitudes of today, when their embrace of slavery was a commonly held view among their classes in their eras. By that standard, must we also dispose of Maryland’s state flag (it contains the symbols of the slaveholding Calvert family and colors popular with secessionists) and rename Carroll County (Charles Carroll reportedly enslaved 300 people) and so on? And would such actions constitute making amends or denying history?

Those are valid concerns to explore. But no one is yet asking Maryland to take on the totality of the state’s monuments to slaveholders without regard to an individual’s other achievements. We’re talking about one bridge that is no longer. The Key Bridge is gone, and something new will rise in its place. It is reasonable to consider what we will choose to call it (and we hope some thought will be given to a name that would honor the lives of the six Latin American immigrants lost in the bridge’s collapse).

Gov. Wes Moore, the first Black governor in Maryland’s history, has suggested it’s too early to make a naming choice. He’s focused on recovering the bodies of the victims, restoring the channel, taking care of port workers and the eventual rebuilding of the bridge. And we agree that’s where the immediate attention should be. But the day will come when a restored bridge will need to be christened. A thoughtful discussion should take place well before then, with the goal of choosing a name we can all be proud of.