GSHAYO

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 ofbrotherhood. 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 sixtythree
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 alarger 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!