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!"
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