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/

The Legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. - The New Yorker

O que mais surpreende nestas matérias não é tanto a luta indômita de Martin Luther King, Jr. pelos direitos civis, ou seja, a igualdade completa de todos os cidadãos, independentemente de sua origem social ou cor da pele, é a extensão, a profundidade, a solidez do racismo, da segregação, do Apartheid americano, realidades que eram consideradas normais pouco mais de meio século atrás, e que ainda alcançam um bom número de cidadãos brancos, e não só os supremacistas, estimulados por Trump.
Paulo Roberto de Almeida

The Legacy of Martin Luther King, Jr. This week, Americans will be celebrating Martin Luther King, Jr., Day. In 1965, Renata Adler published a report in The New Yorker on King’s march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, writing about the participants’ experiences along the way and describing King’s calm and steady presence. At one point, King approached an old man with a cane and asked if he would join them. “I’ll walk one step anyway,” the old man said. “Because I know for every one step I’ll take you’ll take two.” This weekend, we’re bringing you a selection of pieces about King’s legacy and the significance of the upcoming holiday. In “The Hours Before ‘I Have a Dream,’ ” from 1963, Calvin Trillin joins the March on Washington and writes about the events leading up to King’s famous speech. In “When I Met Martin Luther King, Jr.,” Charlayne Hunter-Gault, who became one of the first black students to integrate the University of Georgia, in 1961, recounts how her meeting with the civil-rights leader that year inspired her. In “The Mission,” David Levering Lewis examines the complicated political alliance between King and President Lyndon Johnson. Finally, in “Martin Luther King Day with Trump,” Jelani Cobb explores how the holiday has taken on a new meaning in our current political climate. We hope that you find these pieces as fascinating—and inspiring—as we do. —David Remnick

From The New Yorker’s Archive The Talk of the Town The Hours Before “I Have a Dream” A survey of the March on Washington, in the lead-up to Martin Luther King, Jr.,’s most famous words. By Calvin Trillin | September 7, 1963 Letter from Selma The Selma March On the trail to Montgomery. By Renata Adler | April 10, 1965 News Desk When I Met Martin Luther King, Jr. I will always remember that moment and what it taught me about Dr. King and one of his core values: humility. By Charlayne Hunter-Gault | April 4, 2018 Books The Mission Martin Luther King, Jr.,’s final chapter. By David Levering Lewis | January 23 & 30, 2006 Comment Martin Luther King Day with Trump The holiday will be presided over by a President who scarcely seems to comprehend King’s principles. By Jelani Cobb | January 16, 2017

I have a DREAM - Martin Luther King most famous speech - This Day in History (NYT)

ON THIS DAY (August 28, 1963)

In 1963, 200,000 people participated in a peaceful civil rights rally in Washington, D.C., where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his "I Have a Dream" speech in front of the Lincoln Memorial.
http://www.nytimes.com/learning/general/onthisday/big/0828.html#article

200,000 March for Civil Rights in Orderly Washington Rally; President Sees Gain for Negro

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ACTION ASKED NOW

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10 Leaders of Protest Urge Laws to End Racial Inequity

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By E. W. KENSWORTHY

Special to THE NEW YORK TIMES

RELATED HEADLINESPresident Meets March Leaders: Says Bipartisan Support Is Needed for Rights Bill 'I Have a Dream...': Peroration by Dr. King Sums Up a Day the Capital Will Remember Congress Cordial but Not Swayed: Leaders of March Pay Calls of Courtesy at Capitol Capital Is Occupied by a Gentle ArmyOTHER HEADLINESU.S. Presses U.N. to Condemn Syria on Israeli Deaths: Stevenson Deplores Killing of Youths -- Thant Assures Council on Cease-Fire Kennedy Signs Bill Averting a Rail Strike: Precedent Is Set: Arbitration Imposed by Congress -- Vote in House 286-66 U.S. Spurns Denial of Diem on Crisis: Absolves the Army Again in Vietnam Pagoda Raids and Points Toward Nhu 8 Dead in Utah Mine; Fate of 15 Unknown Lodi Killer Slain; 2d Man Gives Up: Ex-Convict Is Shot 7 Times in a Midtown Hotel 2 Girls Murdered in E. 88th St. Flat

Washington, Aug. 28 -- More than 200,000 Americans, most of them black but many of them white, demonstrated here today for a full and speedy program of civil rights and equal job opportunities.

It was the greatest assembly for a redress of grievances that this capital has ever seen.

One hundred years and 240 days after Abraham Lincoln enjoined the emancipated slaves to "abstain from all violence" and "labor faithfully for reasonable wages," this vast throng proclaimed in march and song and through the speeches of their leaders that they were still waiting for the freedom and the jobs.

Children Clap and Sing

There was no violence to mar the demonstration. In fact, at times there was an air of hootenanny about it as groups of schoolchildren clapped hands and swung into the familiar freedom songs.

But if the crowd was good-natured, the underlying tone was one of dead seriousness. The emphasis was on "freedom" and "now." At the same time the leaders emphasized, paradoxically but realistically, that the struggle was just beginning.

On Capitol Hill, opinion was divided about the impact of the demonstration in stimulating Congressional action on civil rights legislation. But at the White House, President Kennedy declared that the cause of 20,000,000 Negroes had been advanced by the march.

The march leaders went from the shadows of the Lincoln Memorial to the White House to meet with the President for 75 minutes. Afterward, Mr. Kennedy issued a 400-word statement praising the marchers for the "deep fervor and the quiet dignity" that had characterized the demonstration.

Says Nation Can Be Proud

The nation, the President said, "can properly be proud of the demonstration that has occurred here today."

The main target of the demonstration was Congress, where committees are now considering the Administration's civil rights bill.

At the Lincoln Memorial this afternoon, some speakers, knowing little of the way of Congress, assumed that the passage of a strengthened civil rights bill had been assured by the moving events of the day.

But from statements by Congressional leaders, after they had met with the march committee this morning, this did not seem certain at all. These statements came before the demonstration.

Senator Mike Mansfield, of Montang, the Senate Democratic leader, said he could not say whether the mass protest would speed the legislation, which faces a filibuster by Southerners.

Senator Everett McKinley Dirksen of Illinois, the Republican leader, said he thought the demonstration would be neither an advantage nor a disadvantage to the prospects for the civil rights bill.

The human tide that swept over the Mall between the shrines of Washington and Lincoln fell back faster than it came on As soon as the ceremony broke up this afternoon, the exodus began. With astounding speed, the last buses and trains cleared the city by midevening.

At 9 P.M. the city was as calm as the waters of the Reflecting Pool between the two memorials.

At the Lincoln Memorial early in the afternoon, in the midst of a songfest before the addresses, Josephine Baker, the singer, who had flown from her home in Paris, said to the thousands stretching down both sides of the Reflecting Pool:

"You are on the eve of a complete victory. You can't go wrong. The world is behind you."

Miss Baker said, as if she saw a dream coming true before her eyes, that "this is the happiest day of my life."

But of all the 10 leaders of the march on Washington who followed her, only the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., president of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, saw that dream so hopefully.

The other leaders, except for the three clergymen among the 10, concentrated on the struggle ahead and spoke in tough, even harsh, language.

But paradoxically it was King--who had suffered perhaps most of all--who ignited the crowd with words that might have been written by the sad, brooding man enshrined within.

As he arose, a great roar welled up from the crowd. When he started to speak, a hush fell.

"Even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream," he said.

"It is 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.'"

Dream of Brotherhood

"I have a dream..." The vast throng listening intently to him roared.

"...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 together at the table of brotherhood.

"I have a dream..." The crowd roared.

"...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..." The crowd roared.

"...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..." The crowd roared.

"...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."

As Dr. King concluded with a quotation from a Negro hymn- "Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty"- the crowd, recognizing that he was finishing, roared once again and waved their signs and pennants.

But the civil rights leaders, who knew the strength of the forces arrayed against them from past battles, knew also that a hard struggle lay ahead. The tone of their speeches was frequently militant.

Roy Wilkins, executive secretary of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, made a plan that he and his colleagues thought the President's civil rights still did not go nearly far enough. He said:

"The President's proposals represent so moderate an approach that if any one is weakened or eliminated, the remainder will be little more than sugar water. Indeed, the package needs strengthening."

Harshest of all the speakers was John Lewis, chairman of the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee.

"My friends," he said, "Let us not forget that we are involved in a serious social revolution. But by and large American politics is dominated by politicians who build their career on immoral compromising and ally themselves with open forums of political, economic and social exploitation."

He concluded:

"They're talking about slowdown and stop. We will not stop.

"If we do not get meaningful legislation out of this Congress, the time will come when we will not confine our marching to Washington. We will march through the South, through the streets of Jackson, through the streets of Danville, through the streets of Cambridge, through the streets of Birmingham.

"But we will march with the spirit of love and the spirit of dignity that we have shown here today."

In the original text of the speech, distributed last night, Mr. Lewis said:

"We will not wait for the President, the Justice Department, nor the Congress, but we will take matters into our own hands and create a source of power, outside of any national structure, that could and would assure us a victory."

He also said in the original text that "we will march through the South, through the heart of Dixis, the way Sherman did."

It was understood that at least the last of these statements was changed as a result of a protest by the Most Rev. Patrick J. O'Boyle, Roman Catholic Archbishop of Washington, who refused to give the invocation if the offending words were spoken by Mr. Lewis.

The great day really began the night before. As a half moon rose over the lagoon by the Jefferson Memorial and the tall lighted shaft of the Washington Monument gleamed in the reflecting pool, a file of Negroes from out of town began climbing the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

There, while the carpenters nailed the last planks on the television platforms for the next day the TV technicians called through the loudspeakers, "Final audio, one, two, three, four," a middle-aged Negro couple, the man's arm around the shoulders of his plump wife, stood and read with their lips:

"If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of the offenses which in the providence of God must needs come, but which having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove..."

The day dawned clear and cool. At 7 A.M. the town had a Sunday appearance, except for the shuttle buses drawn up in front of Union Station, waiting.

By 10 A. M. there were 40,000 on the slopes around the Washington Monument. An hour later the police estimated the crowd at 90,000. And still they poured in.

Because some things went wrong at the monument, everything was right. Most of the stage and screen celebrities from New York and Hollywood who were scheduled to begin entertaining the crowd at 10 did not arrive at the airport until 11:15.

As a result the whole affair at the monument grounds began to take on the spontaneity of a church picnic. Even before the entertainment was to begin, groups of high school students were singing with wonderful improvisations and hand-clapping all over the monument slope.

Civil rights demonstrators who had been released from jail in Danville, Va., were singing:

"Move on, move on. Till all the world is free."

And members of Local 144 of the Hotel and Allied Service Employes Union from New York City, an integrated local since 1950, were stomping:

"Oh, freedom, we shall not, we shall not be moved, Just like a tree that's planted by the water."

Then the pros took over, starting with the folk singers. The crowd joined in with them.

Joan Baez started things rolling with "the song" - "We Shall Overcome."

"Oh deep in my heart I do believe We shall overcome some day."

And Peter, Paul, and Mary sang "How many times must a man look up before he can see the sky."

And Odetta's great, full-throated voice carried almost to Capitol Hill: "If they ask you who you are, tell them you're a child of God."

Jackie Robinson told the crowd that "we cannot be turned back," and Norman Thomas, the venerable Socialist, said: "I'm glad I lived long enough to see this day."

The march to the Lincoln Memorial was supposed to start at 11:30, behind the leaders. But at 11:20 it set off spontaneously down Constitution Avenue behind the Kenilworth Knights, a local drum and bugle corps dazzling in yellow silk blazers, green trousers and green berets.

Apparently forgotten was the intention to make the march to the Lincoln Memorial a solemn tribute to Medgar W. Evers, N.A.A.C.P. official murdered in Jackson, Miss., last June 12, and others who had died for the cause of civil rights.

The leaders were lost, and they never did get to the head of the parade.

The leaders included also Walter P. Reuther, head of the United Automobile Workers; A. Philip Randolph, head of the American Negro Labor Council; the Rev. Dr. Eugene Carson Blake, vice chairman of the Commission on Religion and Race of the National Council of Churches; Mathew Ahmann, executive director of the National Catholic Conference for Interracial Justice; Rabbi Joachim Prinz, president of the American Jewish Congress; Whitney M. Young Jr., executive director of the National Urban League, and James Farmer, president of the Congress of Racial Equality.

All spoke at the memorial except Mr. Farmer, who is in jail in Louisiana following his arrest as a result of a civil rights demonstration. His speech was read by Floyd B. McKissick, CORE national chairman.

At the close of the ceremonies at the Lincoln Memorial, Bayard Rustin, the organizer of the march, asked Mr. Randolph, who conceived it , to lead the vast throng in a pledge.

Repeating after Mr. Randolph, the marchers pledged "complete personal commitment to the struggle for jobs and freedom for Americans" and "to carry the message of the march to my friends and neighbors back home and arouse them to an equal commitment and an equal effort."

Martin-Luther King: Americano, nao Afro-Americano - Demetrio Magnoli

E ele não disse 'África' 

Demétrio Magnoli

O Estado de S. Paulo, 29/08/2013

Demétrio Magnoli é sociólogo e doutor em Geografia Humana pela USP.

Meio século atrás, à sombra do Memorial de Lincoln, em Washington, Martin Luther King pronunciou 1.667 palavras. Nenhuma delas era "África" - ou "africanos", ou mesmo "afro-americanos". Nessa ausência se encontra a prova da atualidade do discurso mais célebre do século 20. Deveríamos ouvi-lo novamente, prestando atenção no contraste entre aquela linguagem e a utilizada hoje pelos arautos das políticas de raça.

King aludiu à Proclamação de Emancipação, de Abraham Lincoln, "um grande farol de esperança para milhões de negros escravos", mencionou as "algemas da segregação" e as "correntes da discriminação" que, cem anos depois, ainda aleijavam "a vida dos negros", e falou sobre a "solitária ilha de pobreza, em meio a um vasto oceano de prosperidade material", na qual viviam os negros. No discurso de agosto de 1963, os negros eram definidos por referências situacionais (escravidão, segregação, pobreza), não por uma essência identitária (raça, etnia, cultura ou origem).

Americanos, não "afro-americanos" - isso são os negros, na linguagem de King. Os negros, que experimentam "o exílio em sua própria terra", marcharam à "capital de nossa nação" para cobrar uma promessa de igualdade escrita "pelos arquitetos de nossa República" na Declaração de Independência e na Constituição. A luta para resgatar aquela "nota promissória" ergueria "nossa nação das areias movediças da injustiça racial para a sólida rocha da fraternidade". Ela não deveria "conduzir-nos a desconfiar de todas as pessoas brancas", pois "muitos de nossos irmãos brancos (...) compreenderam que o destino deles está preso ao nosso" e que "a liberdade deles está inextricavelmente ligada à nossa".

A linguagem de King não desafiava apenas as leis de segregação, seu alvo imediato, mas uma narrativa sobre a origem dos Estados Unidos, seu alvo distante. Tal narrativa, uma versão da ideia do melting pot, se coagulara no final do século 19 como reação à libertação dos escravos e como chave lógica para a segregação racial oficial. Ela descrevia os Estados Unidos como uma nação de colonos brancos rodeada por minorias raciais (indígenas, asiáticos e negros africanos). No discurso que completa 50 anos, King contestava todo esse cortejo de noções identitárias emanadas do pensamento racial. Não, dizia, a nação é outra coisa - é aquilo que está escrito nos textos fundadores!

A contestação de King separava-o de uma longa tradição da política negra nos Estados Unidos. W. E. B. Du Bois entalhara o mito da raça na fachada da venerável NAACP, a principal organização negra americana. Ele não acreditava no valor explicativo de "grosseiras diferenças físicas de cor, cabelos e ossos", mas invocava "forças sutis" que "dividiram os seres humanos em raças claramente definidas aos olhos do historiador e do sociólogo".

"Nós", dizia Du Bois, "somos americanos por nascimento e cidadania" e "em virtude de nossos ideais políticos, nossa linguagem, nossa religião". Contudo, acrescentava, "nosso americanismo não vai além disso", pois, "a partir desse ponto, somos negros, membros de uma raça histórica que se encontra adormecida desde a aurora da criação, mas começa a acordar nas florestas escuras de sua pátria africana". Afro-americanos: o termo, cunhado muito depois na bigorna do multiculturalismo, foi concebido no início do século 20 como um fruto do pensamento racial. A atualidade do discurso de King encontra-se precisamente na sua ruptura com a visão de Du Bois, que era um reflexo da narrativa racista sobre a nação branca.

Du Bois, revisitado pelo multiculturalismo, não o universalismo de King, é a fonte das políticas oficiais de raça no Brasil. Um documento de "orientações curriculares" para a "educação étnico-racial" da Secretaria Municipal de Educação de São Paulo, datado de 2008, sintetiza as diretrizes que, a partir do MEC, disseminam entre os jovens estudantes a noção de divisão da humanidade em raças. O texto deplora a vasta diversidade de cores utilizada pelos indivíduos em declarações censitárias, que contribuiria "para diminuir o potencial político da população afro-brasileira".

"A pluralidade de cores no país diz quem é o povo brasileiro, mas não sua identidade étnico-racial", segundo os sábios da secretaria. A solução para a carência identitária residiria numa especial reinterpretação das palavras dos declarantes. Operando como "um agente social de reconhecimento eficaz do outro", transformando-se "em alguém mais ativo no processo de identificação", o recenseador produziria em tabelas e gráficos a "população afro-brasileira" que não emerge das autodeclarações. Em termos diretos, trata-se de manufaturar uma fraude censitária com a finalidade de gerar as tais "raças claramente definidas aos olhos do historiador e do sociólogo" de que falava Du Bois. Destinado a professores, o texto veiculava a mensagem inequívoca de que na sala de aula a linguagem da raça é um imperativo absoluto, em nome do qual se deve ignorar a informação censitária factual.

"Eu tenho o sonho de que meus quatro pequenos filhos viverão, um dia, numa nação onde não serão julgados pela cor da sua pele, mas pelo teor de seu caráter." A sentença nuclear do discurso de King não solicitava o reconhecimento de identidades étnicas ou de direitos raciais. Ela exigia que os Estados Unidos aplicassem o princípio, contido nos seus documentos fundadores, segundo o qual "todos os seres humanos são criados iguais". A igualdade entre indivíduos livres de todas as cores, não um acordo político entre coletividades raciais distintas, era a reivindicação do 28 de agosto de 1963. Eis por que aquele dia permanece tão atual, lá e aqui.

Eu também tenho um sonho. Sonho com o dia em que milhões de exemplares do discurso de Martin Luther King sejam distribuídos, clandestinamente, como material subversivo nas escolas brasileiras.

I Have a Dream speech - Martin Luther King, Jr. - Washington, 28 August 1963

Um discurso histórico, digno de ser lido, ainda hoje, por aqueles que pretendem introduzir políticas de cunho racialista no cenário brasileiro. Luther King lutava por direitos civis, não por privilégios raciais.

"I Have a Dream"
Martin Luther King, Jr.
delivered 28 August 1963, at the Lincoln Memorial, Washington D.C.
Audio mp3 of Address

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 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 an exile in his own land. And 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 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. 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. 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.
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 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 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 self-hood 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."¹
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."
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" -- 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, and 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."2
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I 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.
And this will be the 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 mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And 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 this happens, 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!