cuke15's Diaryland Diary

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Martin Luther King Jr's "I have a Dream" speech.

I got the urge to find an MP3 of this, and I don't know why, but hearing the pain but hope in Martin Luther King, Jr's voice, especially around the end of the speech, prompted me to put this in my diary. Read it and think about America today, especially with the situation in DC (see link at top of page), maybe this needs to be read again.

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 100 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 that 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 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 quicksands 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 hoped 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. 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 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 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, 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. 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, 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!"

6:33 a.m. - 2002-11-22

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