I was in Paris last weekend and went to Pride on Saturday. I joined the Parade which marched from Montparnasse to Bastille. 700,000 people attended it and there they all were in the street. And then suddenly.... gone again....
It took us a while to find the parade - we knew it ended in Bastille, so we went there first as we were late and thought we may have missed it already. There were no signs of it, except the odd gay couple sat in a bar looking like they wanted to blend in.
We had an idea where it started, so we jumped on the metro hoping that we wouldn't be too late. We expected to come across swaths of people heading in the same direction and could simply follow the crowds if all else failed, but there didn't seem to be a gay person in sight. Odd. But on the way out of the metro at Montparnasse, all we could hear was thud, thud, thud as the music pounded on the streets above us. We knew we'd found it. At the top of the stairs, the hot sun hit my face temporarily blinding me as I entered the crowd. A moment later, the LGBT community surrounded me. I was nervous at first - I'd never been before, but I was soon submerged in the atmosphere and feeling alive with excitement.
We marched the entire route, picking up various stickers, whistles and posters on the way. And the mandatory beer. I don't normally drink through the day, but on this particular day, I couldn't wait to land my first one.
There was the odd straight person en route, some enjoying the event, and some looking like they were there quite by mistake. There was one woman that looked quite disgusted by it all as she tried to hurry across the busy street, cutting straight in front of a float and right through the parade. I imagined that maybe this was her favourite spot for Saturday afternoon shopping and that it was normally quiet when she arrived. Today she'd come on the metro expecting the day to be like any other. As she exited the station, she was hit by a barrage of men in drag, and some in underpants, and dykes kissing on the streets, and wasn't really quite sure what was going on - quite surreal I expect. My thoughts amused me.
A couple of hours in, there was suddenly silence in the street and the parade stood still. Everyone on foot, sat down. I didn't know what was happening at first, but signs were held up on floats indicating that a 3 minute silence was going to take place - a time to reflect on those that had been, and still were, political prisoners, or imprisoned for being gay. I didn't know that still happened. I felt quite moved by it all and the importance of pride was becoming clearer by the minute.
We arrived in Bastille some 6 hours later, having witnessed a number of people collapsed on the street along the way, apparently having drunk to too much in the excitement of it all and being tended to by medics. Bastille was alive with people and pride and the atmosphere was amazing. I had so much fun.
We had our last drink, before heading down to the metro. At the top of the stairs, I took one last look and soaked in the atmosphere. A few seconds later, I could no longer hear the bustle of Pride. The metro was quiet and there wasn't a gay person in site. For the rest of the holiday, I saw maybe 10 couples... the rest I assume, were back in camouflage.
