 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 his 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 father's 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!"
|
