Martin Luther King's I have a dream speech August 28
1963
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 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 have 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 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 quicksands 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. And they have come to realize that 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 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, that one day right down 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 will 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 new
meaning, "My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrims' 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 snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from
the curvaceous slopes of California. But not only that; let freedom ring from
the 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, and when we allow 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!"
