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Supplementary Reading
^I Have a Dream ̄
MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR., "I HAVE A DREAM" SPEECH
BEFORE THE MARCH ON WASHINGTON, .
AUGUST 28, 1963
Before
an enormous crowd o f blacks and whites stretched in front of the
Lincoln Memorial, Martin Luther King delivered this moving statement
of the aspirations of nonviolent civil rights protest.
Five
score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand,
signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came
as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who
have been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as
a joyous daybreak to end the long night of captivity.
But
one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro
is still 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. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling
condition.
In
a sense we have come to our nation's Capitol 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 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.
It
would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment
and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. This sweltering
summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until
there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. 1963 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 ´ 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 their freedom
is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
And
as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall 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 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, that in spite of the difficulties
and frustrations of the moment 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 desert
state sweltering with the heat of injustice and 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 the state of Alabama, whose governor's
lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and
nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little
black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little
white boys and white girls and walk together 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
plains, 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 with which I return to the South.
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.
Related Websites
http://www.lists.village.virginia.edu/sixties
http://www.sixties.com
http://www.centenary.edu/home/jhendric/left-culture
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