Dr. Martin Luther King
I HAVE A DREAM
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.
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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.'
