Martin
Luther King, Jr. photographed by Marion S. Trikosko, 1964. LC-DIG-ppmsc-01269
Source: Library of Congress - See more at:
http://www.mlkonline.net/images.html#sthash.ZSgr9auJ.dpuf
“He gave people an ethical and
moral way to engage in activities designed to perfect social change without
bloodshed and violence.” – excerpt from Dr. Benjamin Mays eulogy for Rev.
Martin Luther King Jr. at Morehouse College on April 9, 1968.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s life and legacy embodies the essence of freedom and equality for
all, and on this day I hope we all take a few
moments to reflect on the accomplishments of this extraordinary
man. His message of peace through nonviolent
protests to ignite a cultural change within American society is a message that
still reverberates today.
Sermon after sermon, speech after speech, Dr. King delivered a message
of peace, hope, and faith. Because of his actions, and his ability to deliver such
messages, this country made major strides towards eliminating racial injustice.
During a time of severe strife, Dr. King taught people tolerance and
brotherhood. During a time of
segregation and hate, Dr. King taught love and friendship.
Dr. King will forever be remembered for his contributions, and will
continue to inspire people for generations to come. Posted below is his 1963 public speech “I
Have a Dream”, which was delivered in front of a crowd of approximately 200,000
civil rights supporters during a rally in Washington D.C. in front of the
Lincoln Memorial.
Full text to the "I Have a
Dream" speech:
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 one hundred 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 languishing in
the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So
we have come here today to dramatize a shameful 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,
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 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 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 quick sands
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 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 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. They have come
to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot
walk alone.
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 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, 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, 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 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 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, when we allow freedom to 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!"
