He Had a Dream

When I was sixteen I was asked to write a speech for African American History month. I spent hours trying to figure out what type of angel I was going to write the speech from and what my speech was going to be about. I didn’t know if I wanted it to come from a place of anger or happiness, one of understanding or one of ignorant rage. I read a few speeches but, of course, was gravitated to the greatest speech of all. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s I have a Dream speech. It was wonderful, it was beautiful and it was just that, a dream.
I decided to put a spin on Dr. Kings speech and to relate it to the times that we are currently in. This speech was rewritten as a school project in 2003 and as I look back on this time and read this speech, I realized that the “Negro” is still not free.
And thus, here is the twist on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s I have a Dream speech, this is…

He had a Dream

(Rewrite of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I have a Dream” speech)

Five score and forty years ago, a so-called great American in whose somewhat symbolic shadows we stand signed the Emancipation Proclamation. That momentous decree came as a great beacon of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared by the flames of withering injustice. It was to be a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But, four decades later we must face the still tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. Four hundred years later, the Negro is now sadly crippled by the manacles of oppression and the chains of addiction. Four hundred years later, the Negro now lives on a lonely island of dependency in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. Four hundred years later, the Negro is still languishing in the corner of American Society and finds himself an exile in his own land. Now I have rewritten a magnificent speech to dramatize a still appalling condition.

In some sense, I have written this speech in hope to re-cash a check. When the architects of our Republic wrote the semi-magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence it was thought that they were signing a promissory note to which everybody in America was to fall heir. It was supposed to grant all men the inalienable right of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. 

In this era, it is obvious today that America is still in default of that promissory note in so far as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring those sacred obligations America has once again given the Negro people a bad check, which has once again come back marked “insufficient funds.” I, as a Negro do believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. I believe that there are insufficient funds in the vault of opportunity of this nation. But, I will not give up. Now, I have rewritten this speech to re-cash a check. A check that should give upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice. I have also re-written this speech to remind America of the fierce urgency which was, “NOW.” But, I guess “NOW” is the time to cool off and take that ever tranquilizing drug of gradualism. “NOW” should be the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of dependency to the sunlit path of independence. “NOW” should be the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God’s children. “NOW” should be the time to lift this nation from the quicksand of addiction to the solid rock of brotherhood.

It was presumed to have been fatal for this nation to overlook the urgency of that moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. The sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent has passed even though there has yet to be an invigorating autumn of freedom and or equality. Two thousand and three is not an end nor is it a beginning. Those who hoped the Negro needed to blow off steam and would be content have yet to receive a rude awakening. There has been rest and tranquility in America even though the Negro has not been granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwind of revolts has ceased and no longer shakes the foundation of this nation even though that bright day of justice has yet to emerge.

Now there is something that I must say to my people. We need to get back to the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. However, in the process of gaining our rightful place we have been guilty of wrongful deeds. We have although we should not have satisfied our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We have failed to conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. No, we did not allow our protest to degenerate into physical violence because we quit our protest. We should not have stopped but rose. Again and again, we should have risen to the majestic heights of meeting chemical and physical force with soul force. The marvelous-militancy, which had engulfed the Negro community, had not and did not lead us to the distrust of all white people. For many of our white brothers as evidence of their actions over the years have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny and that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. But I must say sorry to my white brothers for we must learn to walk on our own.

And as we walk we must make the pledge that we will come back together one day and march ahead. We have dwelled in the same spot for years and must begin and continue to march. We cannot afford to turn back anymore. There were those who ask the devotees of civil rights, “when will we be satisfied?” Well, we were satisfied when our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel were able to gain lodging in the motels of the highway and the hotels of the city. We were satisfied as soon as our white brothers joined the Negro in the smaller ghettos and the larger ones. We were satisfied when the Negro in Mississippi was allowed to vote and the Negro in New York had reason to believe he had something for which to vote. Yeah, that’s right, we were satisfied even though justice did not flow like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.

You see, I am not unmindful of the trials and tribulations the Negro faced over the years. The Negro’s quest for freedom still leaves him battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. Those have been the veterans of creative suffering, continuing to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive.

That was the faith that forty years ago the Nego went back to Mississippi, went back to Alabama, went back to Georgia, went back to Louisiana, went back to the slums and the ghettos of the northern cities thinking that somehow their situation would be changed. We are now wallowing in the valley of despair.

But, I tell you today my friends that there was a man. A man that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of his time, he had a dream. His dream was one deeply rooted in the American dream.

He had a dream that one day this nation would 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.”

He had a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners would be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

He had a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression would one day be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.

He had a dream that day.

He had a dream that one day the state of Alabama who had a governor whose lips were dripping with the words of interposition and nullification would be transformed into a situation where little black boys and little black girls would be able to join hands with little white boys and little white girls and walk together as brother and sister.

He had a dream that day.

He had a dream that one day every valley would be exalted, every hill and mountain would be made low, the rough places would be made plain and the crooked places would be made straight and the glory of the Lord revealed and all flesh would see it together.

That was his hope. The faith that he returned to the south with. With that faith, he hoped the Negro would be able to hew out the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With that faith, he hoped he would be able to transform the jangling discords of this nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With that faith he hoped the Negro and the white man would be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together and to go to jail together because they fought for freedom together and was charged with treason together thinking that one day the Negro would be free.

With that faith, he believed the day would come when all of God’s children would be able to sing with a new meaning,
“My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty of thee I sing. Land where my father died, land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.”

He knew that if America was to be a great nation then it must come true.

He had a dream of letting freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Letting freedom ring from the mighty mountain of New York. Letting freedom ring from the heights of Pennsylvania. Letting freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado, letting freedom ring from the curvaceous peaks of California. But his dream was not only that. He wanted freedom to ring from every hill and every molehill of Mississippi, from every mountainside he wanted freedom to ring.

Present year: two thousand and three. Freedom has yet to ring; the Negro has yet to overcome. He had a dream and a dream is just what it was. Although black men and white men, jews and gentiles are able to sing, the Negro will not be able to sing the words of the old Negro spiritual with any truth.
“Free at last! Free at last! Thank God almighty we free at last.”
Instead, the Negro should see the truth and be singing,
“Free at last? Free at last? We took a step forward, then back, but we pray to God almighty to one day be free at last!"