What started as a piece of practical sportswear has become one of queer culture’s most iconic, subversive, and enduring symbols. The jockstrap — equal parts function and fantasy — has evolved from locker rooms to nightlife, from battlegrounds to runways. It’s been held up, stripped down, fetishized, and reimagined — and through it all, it’s remained a potent emblem of masculinity on our own terms.

Invented in 1874 by C.F. Bennett for Boston’s “bike jockeys,” the jockstrap was originally a utilitarian solution to a bumpy problem: cobblestone streets and tender goods. Designed to protect the package during high-impact activities, it quickly became a staple of rugged, full-contact sports like rugby, football, and baseball. By the time World War I and II rolled around, the jockstrap had made its way into military kits, offering both support and protection to soldiers on the move. From the get-go, the jockstrap was stitched into the fabric of traditional masculinity.

But in the 1950s, something shifted. As gay culture began to reclaim and remix the icons of macho Americana — cowboys, athletes, construction workers — the jockstrap found a new home. Gone were the dainty stereotypes. In their place stood a generation of queer men embracing a harder, sexier edge. The jockstrap’s design — lifting in the front, revealing in the back — made it irresistible. Erotic illustrations like Physique Pictorial and Tom of Finland’s leather-clad fantasies helped immortalize it as a fetish object and a badge of unapologetic desire. The jockstrap wasn’t just about sports anymore — it was about sex, confidence, and defiant masculinity.

By the 1970s, while athletes began swapping them out for compression shorts, gay men doubled down. Jockstraps became nightlife uniform: bartenders, go-go boys, and partygoers all baring their assets. Despite the AIDS crisis and a dip in popularity in the '80s and '90s, the jockstrap refused to disappear. In the early 2000s, nightlife legend Daniel Nardicio brought them back to center stage with his now-iconic Jockstrap Nights — parties that turned slow club nights into sweaty queer bacchanals in cities from New York to Berlin. In some queer circles, a jockstrap isn’t just a garment — it’s a rite of passage.

The jockstrap has long captured the imagination of artists and designers. In 1983, Andy Warhol shot Jean-Michel Basquiat in one, evoking the heroic nudity of Michelangelo’s David. Tom Bianchi’s dreamy Fire Island Polaroids and Bruce Weber’s tender, muscle-bound portraits canonized it into queer visual culture. On the runway, John Galliano sent them down in his 2004 collection, and Thom Browne reinterpreted them in Spring/Summer 2023. The jockstrap’s cultural power endures — swinging between sport, sex, and art with ease.

With the HOLD NYC Jockstrap Bag, we salute the past while strutting into the future. It’s a tribute to the men who made space for queer masculinity to exist, evolve, and thrive. A nod to those who wore their identity with pride, and those who passed it on. Our jockstrap isn’t just a bag — it’s a symbol of resilience, rebellion, and the joy of being seen.