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“It don’t make no sense, Mr. Abraham.” Theo drove Anderson Abraham through the narrow roads of Thompsonville, Mississippi blasting reggae music. “It’s two thousand and nineteen and black folk still dealing with the same old shit. Sometimes I forget the Civil Rights Movement ever happened.”
“Really?” Anderson leaned up in the backseat, scratching his back, which sat in a pool of sweat because of the humidity. “Things aren’t perfect but they’re a lot better.”
Theo scoffed, toothpick hanging from his mouth. “You’ll never understand what my people went through.”
Anderson nodded, sighing. “Just because I’m white doesn’t mean I can’t empathize.”
“You come from Boston. It’s a different world than down here. Shit, you still got white folks down here calling blacks ‘colored’ and some blacks still thinking that’s okay.” Theo turned past a tiny strip mall with a few cars in the parking lot. “How old are you again?”
“Thirty-five.” Anderson cleared his throat.
“Not only is this the South, but this is the Deep South, man. There’s a whole different set of rules down here.”
“I’ve studied every aspect of racism including its effects. Nothing you can’t tell me I don’t know.”
Theo poked out his lips. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a black man in today’s society or any society.”
“Have you ever read any of my articles?”
Theo shrugged a shoulder. “No. Klein just told me you are a big shot in Boston. I asked some of my cousins and they’d heard of you.”
“Since I’ve been working for the Boston Bulletin I’ve written over two hundred stories on race relations in America.”
Theo turned to the side and raised a bushy eyebrow.
“Guess what? That’s twice as many as the black journalists I work with. Many of them shy away from the racial issues because they don’t want people to think they’re using their race to get ahead.”
“So why do you write about those things?” Theo drove through potholes.
“Because I’m interested in it and I want things to get better.” Anderson sat back. “I find the black culture fascinating. That’s how Klein and I met in college. We took African-American studies together and we shared the same dorm.”
Theo chuckled. “You took African-American Studies?”
“Not because I had to but because I wanted to. Don’t be so quick to judge, okay?”
“My bad.” Theo smirked as if Anderson had gotten the best of him. “I like you, Mr. Abraham.”
“Anderson.”
“Anderson.” Theo’s smirked turned into a full-fledged smile. “I hope you know what you’re in for. Klein isn’t too happy that you’re coming down here to cover Presley Mills’ story.”
“Well someone has to cover it.” Anderson admired the antique building of the church. “She deserves justice.”
People shouted in the distance but Anderson couldn’t make out the words.
“What the hell is that?” he asked.
“Ah, shit.” Theo snatched the toothpick out of his mouth as they got closer to the square. “Jesus.”
A group of forty or fifty black people stood in the parking lot in front of City Hall chanting and waving fists. “Hell no! We won’t go!”
A heavy-set black woman around five-nine with wide hips and a jumpsuit on, paced in front of the audience. “Louder! Hell no! We won’t go!” she shouted into a megaphone. “Hell no! We won’t go!”
Theo turned into the parking lot then stopped with the car running. “You want me to take you back to your hotel instead?”
“No.” Anderson swallowed, chest tightening. “I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Theo lowered the music. “These niggas out for blood and you ripe for the picking.”
“I have a right to be here just like they do.” He swallowed again, but the lump remained in his throat. “Besides, I’ve had to cover protests many times in my career. I’ll talk to them and everything will be okay.”
“They won’t listen. Since Presley’s accident, the town’s dividing. Some are pissed because of what Nate Lancaster did and others because they think the blacks are using this as some racial issue.”
“There’s an eleven-year-old girl in a coma. Black or white, the man who put her there shouldn’t be getting off free.” Anderson released his seatbelt and opened the door. “I’ll see you.”
“Let me call Klein so he can bring his black ass out here.” Theo grabbed his cell from the passenger’s seat.
“I don’t need a bodyguard.” Anderson got out the car, gesturing to the animated crowd. “I understand their anger and their point, but they’re going about it the wrong way. You can’t fight chaos with chaos.”
Theo got out the car, pointing to the heavyset woman. “That’s Khadija Moore.”
“I know.” Anderson squinted, the sun frying his forehead. “The activist from Detroit. What’s she doing down here?”
“The same reason you are she claims.” Theo crossed his arms, head rocking. “Wants to get Presley justice.”
“Yeah right. All she wants to do is stir up trouble. Everywhere there’s a high profile case she’s there with her face in the cameras. I’m surprised there're no cameras.”
“There’s one.” Theo pointed to a man kneeling in front of the crowd with a video camera.
“That’s right, my people.” Khadija stomped back and forth with her fist in the air. “Say it and say it loud. We’re here ladies and gentlemen and the mayor can hide his ass in there all he wants but we won’t go!”
“We ain’t going nowhere,” a man shouted from the audience.
“You see how they hide.” Khadija pointed at City Hall. “Don’t even have the respect to come out here and talk to us. To them we’re nothing but animals.”
A woman threw up a fist. “To hell with all of them.”
Anderson mumbled, shaking his head.
“It’s a damn shame that in this day and age we’re dealing with this shit.” Khadija rubbed the side of her head, her hair in a braided Mohawk with corn rolls on the sides and a bouffant. “Everyone wanna say Thompsonville is backwards.” Her gold tooth glimmered when she grinned. “Well, not anymore. I’m here now and Thompsonville won’t be backwards ever again.”
The audience cheered.
“Damn it’s hot.” Khadija wiped sweat from her forehead. “Better be glad my hair is natural, or I’d sweat out my damn perm out here.”
They laughed.
“Some of you thought racism was dead, but no. No it’s always been there bubbling underneath the surface.”
“Gotta admit she has a way with words though,” Theo whispered.
“She does.” Anderson rolled his eyes. “It’s how she hooks people into following her agenda.”
Theo tilted his head. “She kinda fine too.”
Anderson looked at him.
“What?” Theo shrugged. “Nothing wrong with a sista with some meat on her bones. This the South here. We like our women thick.”
“I don’t mean that. Her attitude is distracting from what she’s trying to do.”
“Least she’s got the folks making noise. Otherwise they’d be sitting here taking it like they always did.”
“We gotta let these crackers know once and for all,” Khadija hollered. “How many more of our people got to suffer at the hands of white injustice? How many beatings, rapes and murders of our people at the hands of whites do we have to take?”
“No more,” A gray-haired black man with a beard shouted. “It’s over today.”
“That’s right,” another man screamed. “We get justice for Presley or Thompsonville won’t see another day of peace!”
“That’s right.” Khadija pointed to the man. “You guys seen me marching and protesting in Ferguson, Boston, New York, Florida, everywhere to fight for those done wrong. But you know what?” Her jumpsuit wrinkled over her belly. “I’m tired of marching and protesting and things not changing. We need action now.”
A woman jumped in place. “Damn straight.”
“You see there’s a saying, ‘If you want to talk about something being done, get a man. If you want something done, get a woman.’ Well, I’m that motherfucking woman!”
“Hell yeah!” A young, black man with sagging pants and corn rolls waved his sign. “Let’s show these crackers once and for all! That drunk ass honkey can’t run over our children and get off scot free!”
“Hell no! We won’t go!” Khadija waved her fist as the audience chanted with her.
“I can’t just stand here and listen to this nonsense.” Anderson headed to the crowd.
Theo grabbed at him as he passed. “Anderson!”