PRIMARY DOCUMENT
'I Have a Dream' (speech) - Martin Luther King Jr
"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."¹I 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,
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!"
"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."¹I 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,
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!"
Analysis:
The famous, 'I have a dream' speech given by Martin Luther King Jr, on August 28, 1963. It was delivered on the steps of Lincoln Memorial during the March on Washington, in front of 250,000 civil rights supporters. This was one of the most significant moments in the civil rights movement as it brought more attention and in turn, more supporters to develop and grow the movement. The speech itself was incredibly inspirational, it starts off by referring to the 'Emancipation Proclamation' in which the freedom of negro slaves was proclaimed. However, Martin Luther King rejects this by saying, "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" He says that Negros aren't really free. In this speech he demands equal rights and freedom between races. The motif of 'I have a dream' hints at an unattainable reality that he hopes for in the future. This source is incredibly important to the civil rights movement as it brought together thousands of supporters and protestors and united them in a common cause. It also brought more awareness of the movement to other states and Martin Luther King Jr got his message across as it was broadcast on different mediums such as television, radio, newspaper. It is also significant as it was given on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial which signified President Lincoln who passed/signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This emphasised what he said about the proclamation as well as the significant setting to highlight equal rights.
The famous, 'I have a dream' speech given by Martin Luther King Jr, on August 28, 1963. It was delivered on the steps of Lincoln Memorial during the March on Washington, in front of 250,000 civil rights supporters. This was one of the most significant moments in the civil rights movement as it brought more attention and in turn, more supporters to develop and grow the movement. The speech itself was incredibly inspirational, it starts off by referring to the 'Emancipation Proclamation' in which the freedom of negro slaves was proclaimed. However, Martin Luther King rejects this by saying, "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" He says that Negros aren't really free. In this speech he demands equal rights and freedom between races. The motif of 'I have a dream' hints at an unattainable reality that he hopes for in the future. This source is incredibly important to the civil rights movement as it brought together thousands of supporters and protestors and united them in a common cause. It also brought more awareness of the movement to other states and Martin Luther King Jr got his message across as it was broadcast on different mediums such as television, radio, newspaper. It is also significant as it was given on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial which signified President Lincoln who passed/signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This emphasised what he said about the proclamation as well as the significant setting to highlight equal rights.