Living Dr. Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" Speech Through My Parents and Children

Every time I hear it, it brings a tear to my eye. Watching the videos on YouTube of a sea of people, gathered together in the Summer of 1963, to protest their oppression, to demand equal treatment under the law from the country they call home. Poignant and passionate, each with memories of an atrocity, a beating, or in my father's case, the wiping of his desk clean by his supervisor before even hearing what he had done wrong (mistyped a word). The crowd humming and swaying in the heat as they wait to hear the vibrato in the melodic and powerful voice of the then 34 year old, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I will attempt, in some small way, to point out how my family and I felt listening to his words. Where this speech provided encouragement, hope, empowerment, and joy. It provided a history that I was not aware of being a child of the 70s. My mother would weep every time my father would play his Grammy Award winning Spoken Word record on our Zenith turntable, on this day, January 15. We would sit and listen while my father provided commentary. I have placed his entire speech below.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. - born January 15, 1929 - died April 4, 1968. The "I Have A Dream," speech was given during the "March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom" or "The Great March" on Wednesday, August 28, 1963 in Washington D.C. in front of the Lincoln Memorial.

"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 languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land."

It's hard not to see my grandparent's face when Dr. King starts his speech. My grandmother's eyes glisten and she would shake her head, every time, and say, "yes, Lord," when Dr. King would mention how long the injustice and inequality had gone on in her life, echoing back to her parents and beyond. My grandfather was a pipe smoker and would just sit and listen stoically. My mom and dad would sit, my mom already tearing, my dad slowly nodding his head in agreement. Today, my daughters age 25, 12, and 9, and my son age 18 will sit at 3pm will watch the speech on YouTube. Like a movie you have seen several times, you pick out new details and relate them to other stories or your own life. In this case, the kids and I will talk about how the Jim Crow segregation is no longer our lives today, nor their lives in the 21st century. In some ways their lives are much better... and in some ways there is even more work to do.

Dr. King continues.

"So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful 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, 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. 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 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 quick sands 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."

My parents and grandparents would be in listening mode during this portion of the speech. My dad would say something along the lines of, "we haven't changed a damn thing," with a sense of frustration and met with acknowledging hums from my mother. With my kids, the events of 2016 with Trayvon Martin to George Floyd in 2020 and the many names that preceded them, will be our topic of discussion. How public protest and reaction to that protest is perceived and if the "urgency of the moment" has reached its pinnacle and how justice and injustice are seen in their eyes in relation to the insurrection at the Capitol on January 6, 2021.

"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 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. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone. As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back."

My father and my grandfather don't really align with Dr. King's view here. They aligned, on this case, more with Malcolm X around the need to meet force with force. Always dampened by grandmother and mother, the two would talk about how there is only so much you can take before you cant take anymore. There is only so much peace and dignity you can withstand before your God given nature for self preservation kicks in the violence ensues. My father would talk about his experiences in Chicago, being new to the US Navy and getting off the bus in the wrong part of town, curious why the bus driver asked him if he was sure he was at the right destination. My mother would then pipe up and discuss her experience in L.A. where a kind police officer gave her a lift to her home after working very late at Shell Oil. She would say to my father, "we cant do this alone, Martin [my dad]. We cant expect to act a fool and then go with our hand out. How does that work?" My grandfather was soft spoken but would say, "you're gonna have to beat me standing up," my dad quickly concurring. The kids and I will talk about our racially blended family and how their grandparents feared how their lives would turn out... how racism would cripple them. We will discuss how that fear was never realized and how they are not only socially accepted but in some cases drawn into conversations about race, equality, and that Americans are not as divided as we think. The kids remind me that yes, I am old and I carry a bias due to age... a bias that they don't see but will acknowledge that their generation has their own challenges and work to do.

"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."

I am sorry to interject again but here is where my kids and I will discuss the difference between compliance and defiance. Between following police instructions for everyone's safety and knowing when you are being asked to lose your dignity or your rights are being infringed on. Bottom line... follow instructions... call me after the incident... make it out alive.

"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 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."

My grandparents and parents here were in unison in their "yes" responses. Not uproarious but pensive agreement, looking back in their memories of the toil of everyday life. My father from Minnesota, my mother from California and both my grandparents (on my mother's side) from Texas. The experiences were different but somehow the same. More subtle in the north and west and blatant in Texas in regard to overt racism, Sunset Towns laws, and not just police brutality but vandalism by some of their neighbors when they first moved in. The idea was novel in 1963, that hope for inclusion into America's framework as an equal was not beyond their lifetimes. That help was on the way. The idea for my children is foreign. Segregation, pointed law supported racism, and isolation. My children and yours as well, do not understand this at all... and its a good thing. The upcoming generation is open and accepting. They are a referendum on some of our past... black and white. The snark in their 'boomer' label is deserved in some cases... in others they are just trying to put me in the old folks home early.

The following words are listened to in complete silence. My mother says you hear "the air change". You can feel the souls of the listeners join together as Dr. King lays out his dream for our society.

"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."

The crowd erupts for several minutes here.

"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, 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 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 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 to 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!" 

Chills from his words, over 58 years old. The crowd roars with tears and relief drowning out the word 'last' as Dr. King turns away from the podium, greeted with pats on his back and handshakes from his supporters. Everyone in our living room tears up. My dad turns his back to hide it. My grandfather looks down at this pipe. My grandmother, tears streaming down her face midway through this last passage, has her handkerchief out. My mother shakes her head with tears of joy and hope and pain. Words matter. Dr. Martin Luther King's words cracked the foundation of our society and allowed for a movement to turn into a law. Sadly, only a few months later, our President at the time, John F. Kennedy would lose his life on November 22, 1963. The nation, sympathetic to John F. Kennedy's push for racial equality and his assassination, as well as Martin Luther King's civil rights activism, achieved a grand goal when Lyndon B. Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act of 1964 on July 2 of 1964, bringing Dr. King's words and hope into law, changing the Constitution of America forever.

On April 4, 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis, Tennessee at 6:01 pm by James Earl Ray.

Dr. King was survived by his wife Coretta Scott King (b: April 27, 1927 – d: January 30, 2006), daughters Yolanda King (b: November 17, 1955 – d: May 15, 2007) and Bernice King (b: March 28, 1963), and sons Martin Luther King, III (b: October 23, 1957) and Dexter Scott King (b: January 30, 1961).

I thank you for reading.

Christopher Austin Williams