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
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 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 languishing 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 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
would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, nad 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 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. 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 rise from the dark and
desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is
the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God’s children. Now is
the time to lift our nation from the quick sands of racial injustice to the
solid rock of brotherhood.
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.
Nineteen sixty-three 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 tranquillity 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 marvellous new militancy
which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to 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 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 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 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 a 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 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 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 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.
This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a
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 ba a great nation this
must become true. 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 peaks 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
every molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
When we let 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!"
Audio Visual:
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.
