Quoi Pour Tous?

I was going to write today about the lovely Christmas parade I went to in Spain, but I just stumbled upon 300,000 French homophobes hanging around outside my apartment building shouting "Un Papa! Une Maman!" and this needs to be addressed. 

Le sigh, where to begin? I feel like there's this idea in the states that all of Europe is this magical, liberated place, where sex is comprehensively discussed in schools, boobs aren't censored at magazine stands, and nobody is irrationally afraid of black people. Well folks, I have never in my life seen so many people assembled in solidarity to take a stand against human rights. 

So there I am, leaning against the pole on the Metro, with two more stops to go, when a voice over the speaker announces that the Ecole Militaire stop is closed. Not a big deal, Tour Maubourg isn't that much farther from my house. I get off and start walking. My, it's busy for a Sunday! I notice lots of families with small children, and the crowds appear to be getting thicker. A lot of them are carrying flags. "Manif Pour Tous." Something for all. Well, that sounds alright. Until I notice that the pictures on the flags are distinctly hetero families. A mom, a dad, and two little kids holding hands. As I approach my bakery, I seem to have reached the heart of the throng. "Un Papa! Une Maman!" A woman sports a sticker that reads "mariage/adoption homo NON!" Continuing home, I've suddenly fallen in with them. Now people on all sides of me are waving flags, singing, chanting, grinning, hearts uplifted by the magnitude of their numbers, the strength of their convictions, and overwhelming agreement from all sides. It reminded me of Spirit Week in high school. I was never much for school spirit, but even I was gleeful, buoyed along by a jubilant mob. 

And so there I was, suddenly part of a protest who's message I abhor and disdain, and no other route home. I was disheartened to see that the protest was not, in fact, just crotchety grannies with canes and white haired guys with pipes shouting incoherently about the end of civilization. No, there were young, trendy people there too. Families with their smiling kids, who'd painted pink and blue mamans and papas on their cheeks. My thought has always been that the world in general must outgrow this kind of discrimination. That the young and the fashionable will always correct the mistakes of previous generations and this too will go out of style. I assumed it was true that you can't stop progress. Maybe I was wrong.

God. I should have flashed them.