They Say

"So, Dal. Who's your friend?" Two-Bit's harsher tone inquired. Shirley pulls away from Dallas, biting her lips and avoiding eye contact.

"This is my girlfriend, Shirley. Shirley, these are my friends, Two-Bit and Steve." Dallas replies, his eyes returning the harshness. She awkwardly waves her hand, and the two do nothing in response.

"Ain't you gonna say hi to her, guys?"

"I ain't saying hi to that," Two-Bit spat.

"Look here, Two-Bit…"

"Dallas, let it go. I've heard it all before." Shirley interjected, her shoulders sagging and her face giving a look of defeat.

"Typical Dallas, always looking to rock the boat," Steve comments, "only this time you rocked it so much you flipped the damn boat over."

"What're you trying to say, Steve?"

"I'm saying you dating this…this…colored girl, because you want to start some shit in this town. Couldn't just follow the rules, could you?"

"Fuck you, Steve. I'm with her because I like her and she likes me back. I ain't with her to scratch an itch. Not like you."

"That's the only thing they're good for. You can stick your dick in them, but only a fool would go as far as date them."

"Better watch your mouth, Steve. Those are fighting words you're spewing."

"Gonna go to war for this nigger? Never took-"

Steve's jaw connected with Dallas's fist.

Steve collapsed, clutching his jaw.

"Dallas!" Shirley cries.

"It's like that, Dally? You're going to defend this colored girl?" Two-Bit asked.

"This colored girl is my girl, and she deserves some goddamn respect. C'mon, babe." Dallas grabs her hand.

They leave the two behind and walk down the street. Shirley has her head hanging down and Dallas is getting more and more irritated.

"Everyone's going to know. Everyone's looking at us. I'm in trouble. Big, big, trouble." Shirley moans.

"We'll get through this, baby. Anybody that has anything else to say about you will be answering to my fists. You dig?"

"You don't understand, Dallas. This is going to be hell. No one will accept us. The people that threw bricks at my window will come looking for you. My uncle will blow a gasket! You don't understand what you've just done. You rocked the boat, alright. You rocked the boat and now both of us are starting to drown."

"Stop talking like that, Shirley! People always got shit to say about things they know nothin' about. We'll get through this. We will."

"It's not going to happen."

"I'll make it happen. I promise you, Shirley,"

He wraps his arms around her waist. He didn't care that people were staring; he wanted them to look.

He swoops in and gives her a chaste peck on the lips.

"We're in this together. They can say what they want, but I'll be damned if I let someone get in the way of us being happy."

Shirley looks up to him, her eyes watery with tears.

"You really believe that?"

"I know that."


One Week Later

"Is it true?"

"Is he really?"

"You know what they say about those New Yorkers…"

"I heard he has a half-breed child in the works!"

Incessant whispers make Dallas grind his teeth as he threads a button into a doll's blouse. The workplace had been a tense spot for the past week; it's filled with rumors and hushed gossip about his and Shirley's relationship.

Gossip is one of the quickest ways to get Dallas to cease all contact with someone, especially if said gossip is about him. Every time he walks into the room, all conversation halts and is replaced with hushed whispers and hand gestures.

Shirley was right about one thing: word spreads fast and people are pretty adamant about having their opinions heard about his relationship.

"It's an abomination. Whites should stick with Whites. Negroes stick with Negroes."

"What's wrong with dating a nice, pretty, white girl? They're not good enough for you anymore?"

"You're ruining the white race! Why produce half-breed babies and jump-start the annihilation of white purity?"

"Is what they said about those Colored girls true? Are they really good in bed? I've been dying to try…"

He punches Tony in the face before he could finish his sentence. After that, Tony stopped trying to talk to him anymore.

It doesn't stop there; he'd been getting nasty looks from his coworkers, some refused to even speak to him. They'd mutter 'traitor' 'nigger lover' and 'sell-out' under their breath whenever he walked past. It got so constant that Dallas was near his boiling point.

This is going to be much harder than he thought.


"Yo, hombre. Never thought I'd see you again. You're pretty famous 'round here, eh?"

Dallas looks up to see Miguel leaning over the railing, offering him a cigarette.

"You have no idea." Dallas takes the smoke.


"Ah, so that's what's been going on. These white boys, man. Always talking shit. No offense."

"None taken."

"They never talk to me like that, though. Sure, they assume that I don't speak English and talk shit about me. But they know to respect me. I work my ass off and you best believe I got eight jobs lined up for me that I can go to at any time. You don't need this job, man. You don't need those whiny little bitches that aren't man enough to tell you how they really feel. Fuck 'em."

Miguel exhales.

"The way I see it, if they ain't paying your bills, putting food in your mouth, clothes on your back, or a house to live in…if they ain't fucking you, their opinion doesn't matter. Who gives a shit what they think?"

"It's easy for me, not for her, man." Dallas inhales his smoke sharply.

"She gets the worst of it: people harassing her everywhere she goes, she lost her job, her uncle practically kicked her out for being seen with me and she's been living with me since. And the worst part…there's some men in white sheets coming to our doorstep and lighting a cross on fire for the past few days."

"Fucking cowards. That's the Ku Klux Klan. You better come packing. Those fuckers like to take you at your most vulnerable. Next thing you know you wind up missing and they find your body hanging from a tree somewhere out in the country."

"Jesus!"

"That's how it is down here. I lost eight people because of them. I never go anywhere without letting my family know and having a heater on me at all times. You can't be too careful these days. You might want to keep an eye on your girl. They like the dark ones, if you know what I mean."

"Jesus Christ! For the love of...who in their right mind would…?"

"It's a mystery. The scariest part, you don't know who is behind that sheet. It could be your friend, a lawyer, police officer, maybe even your teacher. I'm going to tell you this as a friend…trust no one." He looks around and pulls him close. Dallas sees him write something down and cram it into his hands.

"You and Shirley need to meet up with me at 8:00 PM tonight on the Southside. There's this group…they originated from California…some of them moved here and are taking action for the safety of black youth. Maybe they can help you out. They certainly helped me and my wife out."

"You have a wife?"

"Yeah. Her name is Amara." He looks to the sky, a warm smile on his face.

"God I love that woman."


Dallas clutches Shirley's hand as they make their way to Miguel's house. He knocks three times and the slot slides over.

"Down with whitey." Dallas deadpans, ignoring the snicker of Shirley. The door opens. They are greeted with black men and women in wearing all black, holding rifles and stern looks. Front and center is a black fist crudely drawn over the American flag. Sitting in the center are two black men, one wearing dreadlocks and a colorful dashiki while the other is wearing a black leather jacket, turtleneck, slacks, and combat boots. His afro is peeking under his beret.

Miguel beams at them, clad in a black leather coat, his curly hair sticking out under his beret. A dark skinned black woman clings to him, wearing a black turtleneck and jean skirt.

"Welcome Dallas and Shirley. Guys, I want you to meet Bobby Thomas and James Kutcher, members of the Black Panther Party."