The Story of Diane and Daniel

Home Before Dark Contest

Montgomery, Alabama 1961

      I never understood how people were capable of hating someone because of the color of their skin. I simply saw this difference as something which made someone more beautiful and unique, but living in Alabama, not many people agreed with me.

      I never intended to fall for Daniel. When we met, I told him that I had no problem with the color of his skin, and that I was nothing like my racist parents. We were just friends learning about each other, but as we learned more and more, we fell in love. Daniel was hesitant in our relationship at first because everyone knew what happened to interracial couples in the south. But I didn't care. We loved each other, and that's all that mattered to me.

      We snuck around because no one would allow us to be together. The relationship felt impossible. My parents would disown me, and everyone in town would hate me. But we believed our love was strong enough. Strong enough to steal kisses in the dark when no one was looking. Strong enough to sneak around and hide from the cruel world.

     But as our love grew, so did my hatred of how the world viewed Daniel. I didn't want to live a lie. I wanted everyone to know just how much I loved him, even if they hated us for it. If our love was strong enough to hide, it was strong enough to be true.

      On a bright August day, we decided to walk in the park. Together. We didn't care what others thought. It was time to tell the truth and show everyone that love doesn't have to be limited by skin color.

     The moment we stepped foot in the park, we endured racial slurs and screams from all types of people. I will never understand their hatred, but all I knew was that I had to show our love. I had to tell my truth.

       We walked in the park almost everyday for the rest of that month, holding hands. I blocked out the noise and just looked up at him. He was a perfect person, in a cruel and imperfect world.

       Not every story has a happy ending. Towards the end of that summer we were on a typical walk, hand in hand. A racist white man, disgusted by our ability to love, shot us both from across the park. My sweet Daniel and I died, but that doesn't mean that it was in vain. We told the truth and even if it didn't end well for us, it contributed to the movement. People must be able to live the truth in order to constitute change. If Daniel and I had hid, we might have lived, but we wouldn't have caused any change. I believed that everyone was created equal and although the world wasn't ready to accept us, I was ready to tell my truth.