The Fiftieth Anniversary Of The “I Have A Dream” Speech

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 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. 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!

- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Lincoln Memorial
Washington, D. C.
Wednesday 28 August 1963




50th March on Washington image from the website local328.org

King’s Day At “A Window Between Worlds”

Today would have been Martin Luther King, Jr.’s eighty-second birthday and although the tradition has developed to do a work of service on the day of official celebration (this year Monday 17 January 2011), I was able to do service on his actual birthday by attending the Volunteer Day at A Window Between Worlds.

I was the first of the volunteers to arrive and the Volunteer Coordinator, Lonnie, did remember me from the last time I volunteered, several months ago. Today’s main project was the making of Sculpey balls, hands, and rocks. This AWBW art activity was a new for me. However, my task was to clean already made Sculpey balls so that they could be reused. Working with the clay balls was a bit trying because they resisted becoming completely clean. While the volunteers at the other end of the table were making hands and rocks, four people at my end of the table were making the Sculpey balls. They were Amanda, a new intern at AWBW (she started yesterday), who is studying psychology at Cal Poly Pomona; Kris, an AWBW board member; Mike, Kris’ fiancée and the lone male of the day; and Jean, a volunteer from the last time I was at AWBW. While I cleaned away, the four of them broke off and shaped pieces of clay of various colors (red, orange, green, blue, yellow, purple, brown, black, white) into approximately half inch balls. The balls were arranged in clear plastic trays in rainbow order plus the neutral of five balls for each color. The goal set by Lonnie of five trays was exceeded by one! Part way through the morning, Kris and Mike went upstairs to work on the other volunteer projects with a friend of theirs who was already there.

Met Kris and Mike’s friend Dustin (who, despite the name, is a woman) outside during our pizza lunch. She commented on my Red Sox cap and said she dumped a former boyfriend who was a Yankees fan. Good for her! Chatted with the three of them while enjoying bar-b-que chicken pizza and diet coke. Seem like fun people. Mike is from Massachusetts, though he left when he was two years old; Kris commutes from Arcadia to Beverly Hills for work; and Dustin is an actress. Another of their friends is doing marketing for the Golden Globes. And to keep the industry theme going, I talked with two other women, one of whom is named Barbara, about films and actors we like. I mentioned the screeners I’ll get for the Spirit Awards, but drew a blank on titles other than “The Kids Are All Right” and “Winter’s Bone”. Oh well…

After lunch I finished the cleaning of the clay balls and then went upstairs to cut up magazines. There were a couple of other people cutting up magazines and the others were painting small envelopes. Kris and Mike recounted how they met and how they got engaged on airplanes. Mike’s pick-up line was “Are you coming or going?” They’re planning on getting married at the end of June. The other people upstairs were Dustin and Barbara (women I talked to during lunch), Fran, who was at AWBW last time I volunteered, and a couple of other women whose names I didn’t get. A small, but lively group. Managed to get halfway through the magazine before Lonnie came to tell us it was time to begin cleaning up. Another Volunteer Day that passed very quickly. Lonnie had placed the leftover pizza in plastic bags for the volunteers to take home and someone else had dropped off a bag of lemons. So I took a bag of pizza and a few lemons on my way out. Pizza for dinner, but not sure about the lemons – perhaps some tea with lemon. An unexpected treat for the day.

Happy Birthday Martin!!!


Image is of AWBW’s website header from the website awbw.org