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"I Have a Dream"
Martin Luther King
28 August 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 their captivity.
But 100 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 that 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 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 hoped 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 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 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 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 — 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.
This is our hope. 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.
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, 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!"
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