Martin Luther King (1963): I Have a Dream: transcrição da primeira parte, menos citada

De fato, estamos acostumados a ler transcrições da segunda parte deste famoso discurso de Martin Luther, que começa justamente pelas famosas palavras, que já são cópia da Declaração de Independência:
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.”
Mas a primeira parte do discurso contém outras passagens igualmente memoráveis, que foram aqui transcritas por The Globalist, e que se referem às promessas não cumpridas dos Founding Fathers.
No caso do Brasil, as promessas não cumpridas foram as da Abolição, que ficaram sem escolas, sem reforma agrária, sem vida digna para os negros, que se refugiaram nos quilombos criados depois, ou nas favelas suburbanas e urbanas.
Mas o discurso também contém outras advertências aos negros, notadamente a de que eles se abstenham de violência, contra a violência da polícia, até hoje visível e evidente: 
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.
Sábias palavras, que precisam ser sempre relembradas.
Paulo Roberto de Almeida 

MLK’s “I Have a Dream” Speech: The Forgotten Half

The passage of time has only heightened the urgency of Martin Luther King’s sobering message. We present the parts almost never quoted.

By The Globalist, August 28, 2020

This Globalist Document is adapted from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s 1963 speech at the steps of the Abraham Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C. It was later dubbed the “I Have a Dream” speech. The less-quoted first part of his speech, even 57 years later, is a powerful condemnation of the status quo, and bears revisiting.

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.

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 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.

1963 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.

And 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.

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.

And some of you have come from areas where your quest — 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.

And 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.”

https://www.theglobalist.com/dream-forgotten-half/