Contents:

I Have a Dream...................................................................................................................................................1

Martin Luther King, Jr.............................................................................................................................1

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

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

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

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

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 sixtythree 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

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

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

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

I say to you today, my friends, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, I still have a

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these

I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former

I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice

I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color

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 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

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

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

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

Let freedom ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom

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!"