The Fuckparade could easily be mistaken for a celebration of all things Sexcetra, but this demo was an orgy of entwined minds for the power of subculture and unity. Never have I seen the U-bahn so fiercely peppered with people, friskily ready to deliver a message that echoes through the heart of the city. I arrive at destination Leinestraße as my pupils stretch to double their size, the street is immersed with a mixture of diversity and authority. Polizei upon Polizei upon Polizei filled up most of the streets with a readiness to pounce.

In the sauna-like atmosphere, the seismic combination of thumbing feet and Gabba had me in a transfixed state. During the day it felt we were a big group of Musketeers raving for the good of the people, to fight the desires against smoking out the subcultures in the city.

As day morphs into night, I take the time to rest my chanting feet as I converse with two homeless men still draped in optimism after surviving the tirate of a governments notion. Although the language barrier staggered the conversation at points, I understood their remembrance of a time that was untouched by modern day democracy.
So, 23 years and still the voices of the frustrated will not be silenced, they will not be shoved aside, they’re undoubtedly driven importantly than ever before. Just imagine being known as the hate parade, feelings of alienation would surface in your mind, right?

I witnessed nothing but love and unity amongst everyone, for people were friendly and eager to have their picture taken and their faces to be advertised which I found so open and free. The Fuckparade has the will power to go on for another two decades as a new generation blossom into the raving scene.

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