As a tourist, I can observe, but I cannot participate in political action. This is the reason I initially felt uncomfortable parading down the street as a part of what appeared to be a Gay Pride Parade. However, I have been a part of the processions for numerous weddings that, similar to this one, have started at Santo Domingo and pushed their way to the Zocalo. And, as with other wedding calendas, there was a bride and a groom, a band, a constellation of loved ones, and so on.
Okay, so one of the people leading the wedding celebration was also chanting through a bullhorn about the importance of human rights and recognizing gay marriage. And, yes, maybe they were waving a few flags, but I also joined the procession of a really crazy wedding on Saturday where everyone was wearing a cowboy hat, and the bridesmaids had leather micro-skirts on. So, this was not really so unusual as weddings (at least this weekend’s) in Oaxaca go.
So I was marching along with the rest of the family members and part of me wanted to cry for the pure joy of this celebration, for the changed law, for human rights. And the other part of me wanted to just crumble up and weep for how many miles we have to go before we sleep.