When a Little Girl Noticed the Rainbow Pride Symbol on My Wheelchair
For the longest time, I wanted a LGBT symbol to decorate my wheelchair.
I thought about a pink triangle, in the tradition of paying homage to the LGBT concentration camp victims of World War II. For those of you who are not familiar with the pink triangle history, it was the Nazis’ way of “tagging” LGBT people. LGBT prisoners in concentration camps were identified by a pink triangle sewn onto their prison uniforms. It has been reclaimed by our community as a symbol of strength.
Another very well known symbol of gay pride is our rainbow flag. The rainbow flag was popularized as a symbol of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) pride and diversity by San Francisco artist Gilbert Baker in 1978. This version is also sometimes called “the freedom flag.”
I decided to use the rainbow to decorate my chair. My husband Denis bought me a rainbow seat belt, and I placed it on the back of my wheelchair with a lot of pride.
After months of going unnoticed, a very special person changed that.
It was a beautiful day, so we decided to jump on the bus and head downtown. After a couple of stops, a very frail elderly couple boarded the bus, accompanied by a beautiful little girl about 7 years old. It was obvious that the grandma and grandpa had taken this lovely little girl on some kind of special outing. Apparently, part of the outing included “face painting.” Her face was adorned with magical fairy motifs.
The little girl smiled at me, and I smiled back. Immediately after, the little girl told her grandmother, “Look Grandma, he has a rainbow on his chair.” The grandmother noticed the rainbow accessory on my power wheelchair, then looked directly at me and my husband and said, “People can love anybody they want.” The girl was completely satisfied with Grandma’s statement and continued to smile at us.
I was so very touched by Grandma’s wise counsel. I knew I couldn’t leave the bus without acknowledging her wisdom and kindness in addressing this precious child’s curiosity. I looked at the grandmother and thanked her for her words, fully knowing that not everyone from her generation would necessarily choose such kindness, compassion and insight. Not everybody of her generation would have decided to teach a lesson of equality and love at the mere mention of the word rainbow.
I looked at the little girl and told her, “You have a really cool grandma, you know?” With the brightest of smiles, the little fairy princess joyfully agreed.
Our bus arrived at our stop and I said goodbye to the elderly couple and the little girl. “You all have a wonderful day, and by the way, you are a very special lady,” I told the grandmother. She and her husband both thanked me, and I exited the bus with a beautiful rainbow of peace hugging my heart.What a beautiful experience that was! Her words resonated in my brain loud and clear like a freedom bell. Like a poem of echoes that will forever forge a young mind. I just witnessed a teacher in action, an inspired soul who has a very clear view of her mission in this lifetime. I was lucky enough to have witnessed an old soul spreading the limitless light of unconditional respect, empathy and eternal love.
My rainbow seat belt served its purpose. One more time, the harmony of the six colors — red (life), orange (healing), yellow (sunlight), green (nature), blue (harmony), and violet (spirit) has inspired joy.
These beautiful rainbow colors have crowned the little girl with the fairy face. Long live the fairies!
This article originally appeared on PositiveLite.com, Canada’s Online HIV Magazine.
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I was born in Ponce, Puerto Rico in the 60s. Living in Puerto Rico, and growing up there was a bumpy process. I was very aware of my homosexual identity at a very early age, so fighting the stigma was a very intense journey in my native island. After several years in Puerto Rico, in my twenties, I moved to N.Y.C. to pursue a Master’s Degree in Art Education and Art Criticism at New York University. I decided to stay in Manhattan. Here I found myself. I discovered my passions, causes to fight for, and the strong community that I always dreamed of. I became a passionate man with strong convictions. After graduation I became a N.Y.C. school teacher. I taught art in the South Bronx, Spanish Harlem and Upper Manhattan for 15 years. Sometime in my twenties, I was exposed to HIV. I tested HIV-positive and after a serious depression, came out strong and victorious. I became an AIDS activist. My passions in life became the gears that fed energy into my existence. Today, I still live in Manhattan. I’m legally married to my husband Denis Beale and I’m disabled. My life is not easy, I have several health related conditions that are a real challenge these days. I consider myself a loving, compassionate and spiritual person. I have no patience for bigotry, especially the kind of sanctimonious bigotry that wraps itself in prayer and fake compassion. This is a synopsis of who I am. It would be really helpful to start introducing myself with my favorite warning. Warning: I’m human, far from perfect, passionate about life, the pursue of difficult answers, and the conviction that we are all equal.
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