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 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, we must face the tragic fact that
the Negro is still 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 languishing in the corners of
American society and finds himself an exile in his own land.
So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling
condition.
In a sense we have 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 would be guaranteed the inalienable 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 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 rise from
the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path
of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of
opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to lift
our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the
solid rock of brotherhood.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of
the moment and to underestimate the determination of the
Negro. 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 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 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 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 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 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
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, that in spite of the
difficulties and frustrations of the moment, 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 slaveowners will
be able to sit down together at a table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a
desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and
oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and
justice.
I have a dream that my four 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 the state of Alabama, whose
governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of
interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a
situation where little black boys and black girls will be able
to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk
together 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 with which I return to the
South. 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 a 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.
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 snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks 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 every molehill of
Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
When we let 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!"
