Lance Armstrong’s Live Strong wristbands—those yellow bracelets of fellowship that so many Duke students are wearing—have caught hold as one of America’s latest and greatest fads.

John Kerry’s got one. You could see it dangling from his wrist at the Democratic National Convention. George Bush has one, too. And so do 7 million other Americans who have purchased the rubber symbols of “hope, courage and perseverance” since their release by the Lance Armstrong Foundation in May.

Cancer is horrifying, certainly. But people the world over have found solace in Armstrong’s life story—he had cancer from his head to his toe back in 1996 before defeating it, a victory that is perhaps more improbable and worthy of acclaim than the record-breaking six Tour de France wins he went on to claim. In the bracelet, people have found a way to remind themselves of the potential of the human spirit. Or, to be fair, the hope that can be drawn from Armstrong himself.

But athletically-inspired trends are nothing new. They’ve varied from John McEnroe’s headband to Michael Jordan’s shoes. So why choose the wrist for Armstrong’s fund-raising bonanza? Because the wrist has served as a popular spot for accessories in recent years.

First there was the rubber band, popularized by the NBA’s Kevin Garnett, who began wearing the office product as a high schooler in South Carolina. Its fame reached prep basketball stars and few others.

Then came the W.W.J.D? (What Would Jesus Do?) bracelet, which originated at a Michigan church in the mid-90s, and hit the pop culture circuit in 1999 mostly among teenagers that wanted to wear their religion just below their sleeves. Young athletes toted those as well, but manufacturers found more success when they started doling out bracelets with motivational quips rather than religious hypotheticals, allowing the bracelet phenomenon to spread ad nauseum.

So when ads began appearing in May commanding people to “Live Strong” by wearing (and sharing) the yellow bracelets, success was almost certain. It was sort of like a real-life Pay-It-Forward project.

Wristbands were frequently purchased in bundles of 10, 100 or more, at the cost of one dollar a piece. They beg to be bought—every penny raised goes toward Armstrong’s foundation to fight cancer—they beg to be worn, and most importantly, they beg to be shared.

“I bought it just because it was for a good cause and I knew from Sports Illustrated ads that 100 percent of the proceeds went to his charity,” said Curtis Asbury, a senior from Maryland. He bought one for a friend that had been clamoring for a bracelet but was unable to find one still available in stores because they’d been selling so quickly. “He wears it all the time, so I feel it was a worthwhile gift.”

But as Asbury explained, the likeability of the Live Strong bracelet ties well into its purpose—to fend off all of cancer’s ills, physical, mental, spiritual and otherwise—all while showing support for the individual who serves as the beacon of hope for every person diagnosed, afflicted or affected by cancer.

In that light, the bracelet is reminiscent of the AIDS ribbon campaign of the early 1990’s, except those didn’t raise money by themselves, and they weren’t worn by everyone from little kids to presidential hopefuls, and, to be fair, they weren’t marketed as a must-have, either. They weren’t marketed at all.

These bracelets have achieved great popularity without being limited by age, race, fiscal or social parameters, with the same abandon that cancer picks out its victims. It is this all-for-one, one-for-all understanding that has buoyed the Live Strong movement.

Spinoffs of the Live Strong bracelet will undoubtedly trickle out soon—if they haven’t done so already—just as the AIDS ribbon has been emulated by a plethora of causes.

Regardless, this is a fad that doesn’t deserve to go out of style, with a lesson that is transcendent and philosophical, however simply it is worded. Armstrong learned his lesson long ago, and we’ve been fortunate enough to reap the benefits of his racing to beat the odds. And we’re all the better for having gone along for the ride.