I have a dream (rede)
This speech was delivered by
Dr. Martin Luther King before the Lincoln Memorial on August 28th, 1963 at the famous
March on Washington, D.C., for Civil Rights. Be sure to check your local public library
for biographical works on Dr. King.
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. Fivescore 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 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 languished
in the corners of American society and finds himself in exile in his own land. So we've
come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we've 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 the 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 in so far as her citizens of color are con- cerned. Instead of
honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check; a check
which has come back marked "insufficient funds." We refuse to believe that there
are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportuni- ty of this nation.
And so we've
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 tranqulizing 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 quicksands of
racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood; now is the time to make justice a
reality for all 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. And 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
and they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
This offense we share mounted to storm the battlements of injustice must be carried forth
by a biracial army.
We cannot walk alone. And 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 fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the
motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied 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, 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 excessive trials and tribulation. 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 the northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can, and will be changed. Let
us not wallow in the valley of despair. So I say to you, my friends, that even though we
must face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream.It is a dream
deeply rooted in the American dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the
true meaning of its creed --- we hold these truths to be selfevident, that all men are
created equal.
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, sons of former
slaves and 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 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 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 inteposition and nullification, that 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 shall
be made plain, and the crooked places shall be made straight and the glory of the Lord
will be revealed and all flesh shall see it together. That is our hope.
This is the faith
that I go back to the South with. With this faith we will be able to hear 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 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 mountain side, 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 snow-capped 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 we allow freedom to ring, when we lit it ring from every village and hamlet, from
every state and city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children --
black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Catholics and Protestants -- will be able to
join hands and to 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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