Why I Wear Rainbow Suspenders

Those of you who follow me regularly have likely noted my proclivity for suspenders, particularly rainbow suspenders. To a certain extent I wear rainbox suspenders for the obvious intent of holding my pants up, as I tend to be just heavy enough that belts can be problematic. I still occasionally wear belts as well, as a kind of engineered redundancy, but that doesn't really explain the rainbows.

I have found, over the years, that there have been a few people that have affected me intensely. Jim Henson, he of Muppets and Sesame Street fame, was one of these days. Two of Kermit the Frog's signature songs - Being Green and Rainbow Connection - became anthems of a sort for me, kind of like Bach's Little Fugue in G Minor, Beethoven's Ode to Joy, Aaron Copland's Fanfare for a Common Man, and yes, Somewhere Over the Rainbow. (You may be noticing a theme). Henson was special, and joined what I considered an elite group: Fred Rogers, Robin Williams, and Terry Pratchett.

Fred Rogers was the ur Gentle Man. I grew up with Mr. Rogers Neighborhood (even if I was a bit old for it), Fred Roger's soft voice, even manner, comfortable sweater vests, and soft slippers defined him to a generation. His rainbow was of course Trolley, the multicolored train that would lead into the Kingdom of Make Believe, where we met Daniel the Cat, Lady Elaine, King Friday, and even Anna the Duck-billed playpus. It was also Fred Rogers who managed to convince a skeptical Senator to fully fund PBS.

Robin Williams originated the rainbow suspenders, a frequent part of his outfit as the alien Mork from Ork. A brilliant comic, one of his funnier sketches was as Mr. Rogers, irreverent, but also a deep tribute. As he became older, Robin Williams also increasingly revealed his deep introspection, with the hints of the emotional struggles he faced throughout his career that ultimately claimed his life.

Terry Pratchett's most obvious rainbow was the Colours of Magic, in which he introduced Octarine (also known as Eau-de-nil)a, the eighth color of the rainbow that only magicians could see. Pratchett went from somewhat heavy-handed satyrist to becoming a deep social commentator, turning many of our basic assumptions on their heads and then seeing what emerged.

These were all Gentle Men. I'm not talking tophats and tuxes, but rather an ideal. Each of these people was a master storyteller, capable of entertaining you while at the same time magically making you see the world in a different light. They were capable of talking with children, which is a rare skill - all too many people talk to children, but far fewer understand children so well that they can make children feel like human beings. The Gentle men could get angry, but very seldom did, even when they were truly sick at heart. They taught by example. They were truly intelligent people, though you usually didn't realize it until after you had interacted with them.

They all died way too young.

Last night an incident took place. I was picking up dinner at a nearby restaurant for my family, a special meal to celebrate my daughter landing a job she'd been after for a while at a bookstore. While I was waiting for the food, an older woman, Middle Eastern I believe, started berating me because I was, heavens forbid, wearing a symbol that promoted those horrid gay people, and lesbians, and perverts, and that I should take off my suspenders right now and pray to good because otherwise, Satan was going to drag me off to hell and make me pay for the abhorrent practices that I was representing and be saved by Jesus.

She breathed in for just a second, and I said, very quietly. "Thank you very much for your opinion, ma'am. I will take it under advisement."

She turned and stomped away in a huff.

A bit of background: Somewhere Over the Rainbow was, of course, sung by Judy Garland in The Wizard of Oz, and in many respects became one of the defining songs for the gay community in the 1930s and beyond. It is a big part of the reason why rainbows have become such an integral part of the Sexual Spectrum movement.

I am not gay. As I get older, to be honest, sexual orientation means less and less to me: everyone deserves the opportunity to love the person who loves them back, end of story. Certain members of my family are, and those suspenders are for them, at least in part. One more way to say that I believe in them, not some arbitrary standard promulgated by a vicious and close-minded group of people such as the woman who railed at me last night.

I also think that had I been around when Jesus was walking the Earth, I'd have likely found him to be one of those same Gentle Men: love your neighbors, help the sick and the poor, tell great inspiring stories, respect your fellow human being, don't get so focused on becoming wealthy that you lose sight of your humanity. I suspect he'd likely have had no problem sewing a rainbow flag on his sleeve. Homosexuality isn't mentioned much in the New Testament, and what was there was in Paul's testament (Romans), which for the most part, was added much later by Augustinian clergy in the 5th Century, so I suspect that this woman's fire and brimstone interpretation was likely embellished rather spectacularly in the last two millennia, usually during those sordid periods were we forget to love our brothers.

So, this morning, I looked at my rainbow suspenders. They've become a little thread-bare, have faded a bit here and there, and one of the clasps was somewhat jury-rigged after falling apart and having been replaced a couple of times. After a bit of thought, I went online and ordered a new pair or rainbow suspenders, with bright rainbow colors and shiny polished brass, and then may very well retire these.

I might even frame them.

Kurt Cagle wears rainbow suspenders and the occasional bowler or top hat. He lives in Bellevue, WA, with his family and his cats. He writes The Cagle Report.