Martin Luther King, Jr., was born January 15,
1929, Atlanta, Georgia, and was assassinated on April 4, 1968. He was an American Baptist minister and
activist who became the most visible spokesman and leader in the American civil
rights movement from 1955 until his assassination in 1968. King advanced civil
rights through nonviolence and civil disobedience, inspired by his Christian
beliefs and the nonviolent activism of Mahatma Gandhi. He was the son of early
civil rights activist and minister Martin Luther King Sr.
King
participated in and led marches for the right to vote, desegregation, labor
rights, and other basic civil rights. King led the 1955 Montgomery bus boycott and
later became the first president of the Southern Christian Leadership
Conference (SCLC). As president of the SCLC, he led the unsuccessful Albany
Movement in Albany, Georgia, and helped organize some of the nonviolent 1963
protests in Birmingham, Alabama. King helped organize the 1963 March on
Washington, where he delivered his "I Have a Dream" speech on the
steps of the Lincoln Memorial. He was
awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1964. On
October 14, 1964, King won the Nobel Peace Prize for combating racial
inequality through nonviolent resistance.
As we
celebrate his life this Monday let us reflect on his I Have a Dream
speech as delivered on August 28, 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington
D.C.
I am
happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest
demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
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 languished in the corners of
American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so, we've come
here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a
sense we've 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. And so, we've 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 quicksand 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. And 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. And 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. And they have come to realize that their freedom is
inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot
walk alone.
And
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 self-hood 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. And some of
you have come from areas where your quest -- 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.
And
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, and 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, and 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.
And
this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be
able to sing with 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.
And
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 snow-capped 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, and when we allow freedom 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!
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