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
in 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 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. This sweltering
summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent
will not pass until there is an invigorating
autumn of freedom and equality. 1963 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.
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.
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.
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, 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
down 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 new meaning: My
country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of
thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land
of the pilgrims' 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 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, 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.