Peggy

This is just as timely now as when he wrote it. Peggy



I have a Dream
by Martin Luther King, Jr.
Delivered on the steps at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington D.C. on
August
28, 1963

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, 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
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 quicksands 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 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 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 slaveowners 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 be 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 snowcapped 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!"