“I Have a Dream” by Martin Luther King, Jr

“I Have a Dream”

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

17-Jun-2005