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.”
I am 51 years old, so I should remember Dr. King, but I don’t.
His ministry and mission are entirely known to me through television specials, which troubles me. Was this not news in Massachusetts? I watched specials about him yesterday on the history channel, and every time I do, I am moved.
Diana, perhaps you were too young – you would have been about 8 in 1965? I’m 3 years older than you and grew up in a family where the Huntly-Brinkley Report was a part of our daily lives. I also grew up in the South, which probably makes a huge difference, too. Also, by the time schools were being desegregated in Boston – 1970s? – Dr. King had already been assassinated.
I lived through Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s era. I lived in the “deep south” in its aftermath. I lived with having black teachers who could not read in the elementary schools…exceptions for sure, but they were there because, by law, a quota of teachers from the “separate but equal” schools had to be retained. I lived through the time that black children received passing grades and promotion to the next grade level because the NAACP complained that too many of them were failing. For 6 months an 18 year-old black male spent his morning hours at my house learning to read…and received high school credit for doing so. I lived through assigning tutors to recent high school “graduates” whose H.S. counselors had told them that, once they graduated, they could go to the library and learn how to read. For 9 years I was in charge of a four-county adult literacy program…most of the tutors were white females; the students were primarily black, but with a good admixture of white males. Guess what! When the adult members of the family learned to read, the children’s school achievement improved dramatically. Friendships were forged between the members black & white communities…it is impossible to teach someone to read without learning to love that person dearly; it is impossible to not love the person who teaches you to read. It is difficult to hold onto predjudice against a group once you learn to deeply love an individual member of that group.
Dr. King had a dream…too bad he did not live long enough to face the reality that resulted from it. It might have waked him up!