Five score years ago, a great
American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation
Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to
millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice.
It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later,
the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is
still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of
discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of
poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years
later, the Negro is still languishing in the corners of American society and
finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize
a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to
our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote
the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence,
they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir.
This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men,
would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness.
It is obvious today that
America has defaulted on this promissory note insofar as her citizens of color
are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given
the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked "insufficient
funds." But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We
refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of
opportunity of this nation. So we have come to cash this check -- a check that
will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. We
have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of
now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the
tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of
democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of
segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our
nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of
brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's
children.
It would be fatal for the
nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the
Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating
autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a
beginning. Those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now
be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as
usual. There will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is
granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake
the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I
must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the
palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be
guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by
drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.
We must forever conduct our
struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our
creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must
rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The
marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us
to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced
by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up
with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably
bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
As we walk, we must make the
pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those
who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be
satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim
of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied, as
long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in
the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied
as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one.
We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their
selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating "For Whites
Only". We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot
vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no,
we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down
like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.
I am not unmindful that some
of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have
come fresh from narrow jail cells. Some of you have come from areas where your
quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered
by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative
suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is
redemptive.
Go back to Mississippi, go
back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to
Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing
that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the
valley of despair.
I say to you today, my
friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still
have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day
this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We
hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal."
I have a dream that one day
on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former
slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day
even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice,
sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of
freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four
little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by
the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day,
down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips
dripping with the words of interposition and nullification; one day right there
in Alabama, little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with
little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day
every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the
rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight,
and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it
together.
This is our hope. This is the
faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hew
out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith we will be able
to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of
brotherhood. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray
together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom
together, knowing that we will be free one day.
This will be the day when all
of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My country,
'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers
died, land of the pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a
great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the prodigious
hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New
York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!
Let freedom ring from the
snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the
curvaceous slopes of California!
But not only that; let
freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!
Let freedom ring from Lookout
Mountain of Tennessee!
Let freedom ring from every
hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when
we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every
hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day
when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants
and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old
Negro spiritual, "Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are
free at last!"
--Martin Luther King, August 28, 1963
:-)
ReplyDeleteFree at last from all bullying from the family to the governerships.
ReplyDelete