A true flag is not something you can really design. A true flag

“A true flag is not something you can really design. A true flag is torn from the soul of the people. A flag is something that everyone owns, and that’s why they work. The Rainbow Flag is like other flags in that sense: it belongs to the people.” — Gilbert Baker

Hear these words, O children of many colors and seekers of truth, from Gilbert Baker, the artist and visionary who gave the world the Rainbow Flag — a symbol not merely of pride, but of unity, resilience, and love. In this profound saying, Baker speaks not as a designer of cloth, but as a midwife of meaning, one who understood that the greatest symbols are not crafted by a single hand but born from the collective soul. He tells us that a true flag is not a decoration, not an emblem made for governments or armies — it is the heart of a people made visible, a fabric woven with their pain, their joy, and their unyielding hope.

The origin of these words lies in the birth of the Rainbow Flag in 1978, in San Francisco — a time when the world was awakening to the struggle and beauty of the LGBTQ+ community. Baker, at the request of his friend and activist Harvey Milk, sought to create a symbol that could unite a people long hidden in shadow. He did not invent the rainbow; he revealed it. Drawing from the heavens themselves, he chose colors not as mere design, but as emblems of life’s wholeness — red for life, orange for healing, yellow for sunlight, green for nature, blue for serenity, and violet for spirit. When the flag first rose above the San Francisco sky, it was not his creation alone — it was the cry of a people, the visible breath of a movement.

When Baker says that a true flag is torn from the soul of the people, he speaks to a universal truth that transcends all nations and all causes. Every flag that endures — from the stars and stripes of America to the banners of ancient kingdoms — was born from struggle and longing. The truest symbols are never the result of commission or convenience; they arise from the fire of collective experience. The flag of freedom is woven from rebellion and sacrifice; the flag of peace from the ashes of war. So too, the Rainbow Flag was torn not from silk but from suffering — from generations who endured silence, violence, and exile, yet still chose to love boldly and live brightly.

Think of the revolutionaries of the French Republic, who raised the Tricolor as a sign of liberty, equality, and fraternity. Its colors were not invented in comfort; they were forged in blood and conviction. Or think of the Star-Spangled Banner, sewn by ordinary hands while war raged around them — a symbol that later came to represent endurance through chaos. These banners, like Baker’s flag, were born of necessity and belonging. They were not owned by rulers or states, but by the people who gave them meaning. As Baker himself said, “That’s why they work.” The power of a flag does not lie in its design, but in its capacity to carry the soul of those who look upon it.

Yet, there is something especially divine in Baker’s Rainbow Flag, for it stands not for one nation or one faith, but for human diversity itself. In its stripes, we see the spectrum of existence — a reminder that difference is not division, but design; that the sky itself is never of one color, yet always one sky. This is why Baker’s words strike so deep: he teaches that symbols only live when they are shared. The flag belongs to everyone — to the old and the young, to the brave and the afraid, to those who have spoken and those who still cannot. A flag that excludes cannot endure; a flag that embraces, like the rainbow, will outlast empires.

The lesson, then, is clear and eternal: create not for ownership, but for belonging. Whatever you build — be it a work of art, a movement, or a vision — let it arise not from ego, but from empathy. A symbol, a song, a dream — these live only when they are torn from the shared fabric of humanity. Let your works be like Baker’s flag: born from truth, colored by compassion, and offered to all. For when you give your creation to the people, you give it to the future.

So remember, O maker and citizen of the world: a true flag cannot be designed; it must be felt. It must come from the ache of injustice and the light of hope. Let your life, too, become a flag — one woven from courage and kindness, flying for those who have yet to find their colors. For the greatest honor is not to own a symbol, but to become part of what it stands for. As Gilbert Baker taught, the flag belongs to the people, and when the people rise together beneath it, they do not just wave a banner — they become the rainbow itself, spanning the sky with the glory of unity and love.