“Kids United” uniting kids and the world

This year I got into the Christmas spirit with the pre-adolescent set and their forty-something parents. I joined more than 20,000 of them in the biggest concert hall in Paris, AccorHotel Aréna. We were all there for “the Kids,” “Kids United,” the hottest group in France, at the top of the charts, having recently knocked Céline Dion out of first place.

Who are “the Kids”? In some ways, they are a fluke, a group of children and adolescents, between the ages of 10 and 17, who, at their beginnings a mere two years ago, were chosen to sing together to promote the cause of UNICEF. Contestants on shows such as "France Has Got Talent" and "Voice Kids," they were already used to performing when they were singled out to become representatives of French youth and ambassadors of UNICEF.

In May 2015 they gave their first concert at the Olympia, a Parisian theater where all the greats have sung: Edith Piaf, Jacques Brel, the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. At the close of the concert, “the Kids” presented their first check to UNICEF for over 400 thousand dollars.

And the rest is history, a success story that my friend Tiago, 9 years old, has been following every step of the way. Singing “feel-good” songs, most of them unknown in the English-speaking world, “The Kids” have captured the hearts of the French and got millions humming “On écrit sur les murs,” (“We write on the walls/the names of those we love”), a 1989 pop song that became their first big hit.

The day of the concert, one of two Paris appearances in the group’s nationwide 2017 tour, many of us arrived early. We were bubbling with excitement, ready to stand patiently in long lines and undergo a body search before we could enter the hall. Like most parents and chaperones, I’d thought about the dangers of such a gathering, but I was gladly, even gleefully, chaperoning Tiago to what was the biggest music event of my life.

Once inside, we waited, with no sign of “The Kids.” When the group finally burst onto the stage, emerging from mist and beams of colored light, the 20,000 fans went wild. As for Tiago and me, a discrete usher invited us to rise from our last-row seats and follow him. He directed us to the fourth row of the giant hall, a stroke of luck, a miracle of sorts. Suddenly “The Kids” were real.

Now I could see the sweat on Nilusi’s forehead. This graceful 17-year-old whose roots are in Sri Lanka is the oldest member of the group and is about to go solo.

As the singers change positions on the stage, she is soon replaced by Gabriel, 15. He is what the French call “un black,” a French boy with roots in Africa, who spent a part of his childhood in England and is completely bilingual.

Esteban, 17, is proud of his Spanish origins. Erza, 12, has parents who fled their native Kosovo. Even Gloria, the youngest at age 10, has an Italian last name.

They are so close I could almost touch these talented, energetic representatives of UNICEF and France today, were it not for the security guards standing between me and the stage. All around me, children and adults are singing along, and I feel like the only person among the 20,000 who doesn’t know the words to every song.

Good, clean entertainment, I guess you could call it, provided by the very best of multicultural France, every one of “The Kids,” an example of the wealth of origins, backgrounds and races that are vital ingredients in what it means to be French today.

Everybody in the audience loves them, the parents as enthralled as their children—to the point that a little boy falls off the back of a seat into my arms while his mother blithely records the show on her phone. Every child in the hall dreams of someday becoming a “Kid” and, to children and adults alike, “Kids United” conveys the message that “le monde est beau,” the world is beautiful.

Then it’s over and we’re back in the cold, dark night. Outside the hall, there’s a hot trade in posters, selling for 2 euros, as opposed to the official price of ten. Tiago rushes up to a salesmen and whips out a 5-euro bill. No change, he is told. I search in my wallet, find a 2-euro coin, extend my palm and Tiago gets his poster—in the nick of time.

Just as the exchange is taking place, the police break in, confiscating all the posters, but ours. “Cadeau,” the policeman says, as he drags the poster-seller away. A gift, you don’t have to pay.

As for the salesman, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. He lost his posters and he’s going to lose his profits, and if he happens to be an illegal immigrant, he may lose his foothold in France.

Concerning illegal immigration, President Macron has recently increased police powers, sanctioning random identity checks in hotels and shelters. The goal of his government is to keep new immigrants out and get rid of those who shouldn’t be here. With temperatures hovering around freezing, police have been destroying makeshift tent cities, slashing tents and throwing blankets, mattresses and personal belongings into trash bins.

While running for office, Emmanuel Macron praised the generosity of German Chancellor Angela Merkel, who, in 2015, offered asylum to over one million refugees. France committed to welcoming 30,000. In 2016, there were 85,244 requests for asylum status, of which 26,531 were accepted, according to figures provided by the Ministry of the Interior.

In 2018, President Macron hopes to reduce those numbers, in part by outsourcing the processing of asylum seekers to countries like Niger or Libya, where human trafficking and violence are rife.

A few days before Christmas, “Kids United” celebrated a different, more generous image of France. These vibrant singers proclaim that yes, we can all live together, at least for the duration of the show…

My wish for 2018, a year promising dangerous times, is that we all give it a try.