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On Saturday, October 31, the day of Halloween, protest signs mingle with costumes, as some students have chosen to combine political demands with festive attire. Despite the tensions with police that have marked previous days of mobilization, large numbers of protestors have once again turned out to make their voices heard: 70,000 according to the Paris police prefecture, and 200,000 according to trade unions and student organizations.
Adèle, 22, a master’s student in occupational psychology, has been protesting since October 17. Her involvement is part of a broader context of economic precarity, which extends to her own professional field. Resources are scarce, she explains, particularly in disability services and access to healthcare: “The high school students’ movement has my full solidarity. These days, everyone struggles to put food in the fridge by the end of the month.”
Beside her is Inès, soon to turn 25, who recently graduated in occupational psychology and is currently looking for work. This is her first time attending a demonstration. Although she has previously participated in student mobilizations, taking to the streets marks a new stage in her political engagement.
“It’s becoming increasingly difficult to find work. But beyond that, there’s a general sense of frustration. Taking to the streets to make our voices heard has become a necessity. Remaining silent today is a political choice, and I don’t want to be part of that choice.”
The two young women share the same outrage at police repression and the way the protests are portrayed in the media. In their view, clashes and property damage receive disproportionate coverage, overshadowing the protestors’ demands. “We feel like we have no value,” they say, arguing that this portrayal only fuels tensions.
Inès stresses the need to acknowledge and compensate victims of police violence: 215 students had been injured as of October 5, according to the French Ministry of National Education. “We’re calling for a genuinely transparent investigation into the young people who have been maimed by grenades and projectiles fired from less-lethal launchers (LBDs).”
Yet fear does not seem to have persuaded them to stay off the streets. Protestors now attend demonstrations in groups to ensure that no one is left isolated in the event of police intervention. “If something happens to one of us, the others will be there to do whatever is necessary,” Adèle explains. “Protesting is a right, and we will continue to exercise it despite the repression and the climate of fear that is taking hold.”
A right to protest under increasing restrictions
As we make our way back toward the starting point of the march at Porte de Bagnolet, we meet Tess, 22, an engineering student. This is the first time she has participated in a movement of this scale, and she says she feels a certain pride in being there. “It’s important to show up, given all the restrictions being imposed on us to obstruct our right to freedom of expression. I’m here above all to support the younger generation. We need to make our rights heard.”
Her concerns center on the changing nature of protest policing and the growing priority given to protecting property over people. “I encourage everyone reading this publication to look into the movements and protests that took place before the 2000s. It will help them understand the direction our country is taking. In the past, the priority was protecting protestors rather than street furniture and property. That says a lot about the consequences of capitalism.”
On October 8, the independent news outlet Mediapart documented the confiscation of protest signs during a high school student demonstration in Paris. Several police officers had inspected and screened slogans, particularly those deemed “anti-police” or “anti-state.” Some protestors were consequently prevented from marching with certain messages.
On October 31, even the route of the Paris demonstration became the subject of an administrative and legal battle. While the organizing groups had wanted to march between Bastille and Nation, the police prefecture imposed an alternative route, from Porte de Bagnolet to Porte de Charenton. Following an initial appeal before the administrative court, the Council of State ultimately reinstated the route imposed by the authorities.
For Lucie, 33, a young working woman we meet in the middle of the march, these developments are part of an even more worrying political climate. “It’s terrifying! We’re taking a pretty extreme authoritarian and racist turn. In the wake of the racist crime in Trappes [editor’s note: October 23], it’s all the more important for us to be here at this demonstration. We’re afraid to protest, but that’s exactly why we have to show up.”
This fear runs through all the conversations we are having. But it does not necessarily mean giving up. On the contrary, it sometimes becomes one more reason to take to the streets.
“We’re afraid to protest, but that’s exactly why we have to show up.”
“Our ancestors stood up for our future”
When we arrive at Porte de Charenton, at the end of the march route, police officers are standing in columns near the exits. One passage remains open toward Liberté metro station.
We meet a 28-year-old student who has come to defend students’ learning conditions and support the mobilized high school students. For her, student precarity has become an increasingly unavoidable reality: finding housing, buying food, and financing an education are turning into a growing obstacle course. Part-time jobs, often essential for survival, are difficult to balance with university workloads. Financial assistance remains inadequate, and families are not always in a position to provide support.
At 28, she is still pursuing her master’s degree after being forced to interrupt her studies during the COVID-19 lockdown. Without internet access, she had been unable to continue her coursework as usual. When she tried to resume her studies, the Parcoursup admissions platform did not allow her to return to her original program. “It’s unfair. I just want to be able to finish my studies under decent conditions. That’s why I’m here,” she explains. When asked whether financial difficulties were the reason she had no internet access, she silently nods.
She is also there to show solidarity with high school students injured by the police. In her view, the violence could have been avoided if the protestors’ demands had been heard from the very beginning.
She admits having hesitated to attend the demonstration for fear of clashes with the police. “I thought about 1789, 1936, 1964, and all the women’s and feminist protests, particularly those for the right to vote. None of them happened without a struggle. Rights had to be fought for. If our ancestors stood up for our future, then it’s also our duty to do the same for the generations that come after us.”
5 PM: Tear gas engulfs the march
Until now, the demonstration has remained entirely peaceful. At around 5 PM, white smoke rises a few meters away. The crowd begins to surge. Tear gas has just been fired.
The cloud reaches us. Our eyes burn, and so do our throats. Protestors try to escape toward areas where the air is still breathable. Some take out saline solution to rinse their eyes, sharing it with those who have none.
A group of young people, angered by the tear gas, boo the police and throw projectiles. Police officers charge. Within minutes, the atmosphere changes dramatically. Smoke fills the area, and the sound of exploding firework mortars and crowd-control grenades rings out. Police call for evacuation over loudspeakers. A narrow passage is left open to reach Liberté metro station.
Protestors are also instructed to leave their signs at the foot of a tree. The explanation given at the scene is that this is intended to prevent spontaneous gatherings from forming elsewhere.
A few meters from the metro entrance, we meet a group of four high school students who have just witnessed these events.
In their view, demonstrations now end according to a predictable script: groups are surrounded, protestors are arrested, and crowds are dispersed with tear gas. “We’ve understood perfectly well that the goal is to frighten people and discourage them from coming to future demonstrations,” explain Giulia, Sonia, Selena, Maya, and Milan.
Maya and Giulia, however, are careful to point out that their experience does not reflect that of all high school students. “We’re white, and we attend high schools within Paris itself. We’re privileged compared with students in the suburbs, where conditions are catastrophic.”
Their observation draws attention to the inequalities underlying the mobilization. School facilities, family resources, and exposure to violence are not the same for all young people.
The toll on the body
For these high school students, repression does not end when they leave the march. Giulia, 16, describes the anxiety attacks that now accompany her participation in demonstrations. “All it takes is for a police officer to approach me, even outside a demonstration, for my heart to start racing and for me to begin trembling. I even have nightmares about it. Unfortunately, repression through fear is starting to work.”
She, too, admits having hesitated to attend the October 31 demonstration. She recalls having already been exposed to tear gas during high school blockades, sometimes without understanding what justified its use. But this anxiety has also strengthened her determination. “It’s not normal to be afraid to come out and speak up for your rights.”
Maya comes from a politically active family. She first encountered demonstrations at the age of ten, when she accompanied her parents to a protest by healthcare workers. Yet even within her family, which is accustomed to social movements, there is a sense that the violence is intensifying.
This violence also has a less visible dimension: its effects on the body and reproductive health. For several years, women have reported menstrual disturbances after exposure to tear gas. Early periods, unusual bleeding, and severe cramps have been reported in several countries, but these symptoms remain insufficiently documented by scientific research.
In France, the issue resurfaced during the October 2026 mobilizations. The collective Lacrymos de sang (Bloody Tear Gas), founded on October 8, collected more than 8,000 testimonies from people reporting menstrual disturbances following exposure to tear gas.
At Porte de Charenton, the demonstration ends amid tear gas, police charges, and orders to evacuate. Protest signs have been abandoned, groups dispersed, and access points controlled by the police. Yet the testimonies gathered throughout the day tell a story that goes beyond a succession of confrontations. From the age of 16 to 33, protesting remains, for all these young women, a way of claiming their place in public space and making their political voices heard. It is a freedom that, with each passing week, they feel is becoming increasingly difficult to exercise.
This article was produced with the support of OROF (Our Rights Our Future).
