A Dream for Their Rights and Freedom

“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.”

Today was a revolutionary day in history for the United States of America, a day that would forevermore grace the pages of the textbooks. Today was a day that one man’s speech would perpetually be printed across the hearts and minds of the youth of America. On this day, one man’s dreams and hopes for the future of his people would be conveyed to the masses.

“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.”

On the steps of the Lincoln memorial, many figures stood, with representatives from organizations that were supporting this epic event to guards and policemen, to even a couple of well-known musicians (1).

At the podium stood a powerful and influential orator, a man who wished for peace amongst all of his brothers and sisters. He spoke of the Negro’s fight for freedom in a world of white skins that over-dominated with great oppression, annihilating any hope and dream of being seen as what they were- a normal person with thoughts and feelings.

“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 languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.”

The prominent man’s words painted the setting of men and women, being bound in chains of pain, anguish, and the feeling of being lost in a world full of nothing but hate and bitterness.

His melodic voice sent it’s painting to the mind of those who heard these words that called out the white man’s harsh cruelty, which for centuries went untreated, unpunished.

“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."”

The man’s name was Martin Luther King Jr., and his beliefs were not going to go unnoticed, unheard by the men who sat in charge of his homeland. King cried to the historians that the promising words written on parchment and treated as holy documents were being broken and ripped into lies that were bent to aid the white man’s reign. His calls were to be heard by the masses of people who were prejudice, telling them that his kin were given the short end of the deal…of the lying tales.

“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.”

King’s dictation gave birth to a new flame of hope, telling the assembled that even though they have had it bad since their ancestors stepped on this country’s ground, they can go and ask for their freedom that they deserve and are owed.

“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 quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.”

Among the congregation who were standing on those steps around the great orator, was Alfred F. Jones. He soaked up each and every sound uttered from the leader at the platform, committing each utterance to heart. He heard the Civil Right’s activist cry for a new beginning for those left in sufferance for so long. Alfred believed in each of those declarations, already knowing that it was the truth.

The personification of the United States was full of pride, a renewed sense of nationalism running through his veins. His ears were full of the sermon being proclaimed, it’s meaning being wrapped around his mind. He had known for a long time that it was time to pull his people of different skin to their feet, to allow them the rights that were handed to the whites. He knew that when they finally achieved their independence, they would feel something akin to what he himself felt when he earned his own independence from his former mentor.

He felt that King’s words were a foreshadowing of what was to come, heck, it probably the defining of the future. Nevertheless, he was glad that someone was there to lead those who would not want to listen to him because he himself was white. Well, they would listen, but not of their own accord, which is all that Jones wanted. He knew that there couldn’t have been a better man to rally and unite the black-skinned people in the States. King’s eyes were set on something good for his people, and he would go uncorrupted, listening to only a voice of cold, hard reason.

“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. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And 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. And 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.”

Alfred shivered at the power enunciated with each pronunciation. He was thrown off guard by the strength laced in each letter. It left him in shock and as King called for, left him awakened. Alfred was left to ponder over the effect these words would have on his country, and what his boss was going to say, or do, in response. In this new beginning, he knew that the Negro people will blow off steam built up after so long a time, but will keep the unity, the bite behind their opinions when challenged. Alfred questioned how strong this speech and this man’s actions were in history, and what sort of impact they will have in the future, not just the fact it’ll bring justice to the 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.”

Alfred couldn’t even begin to find words worthy of the thanks he felt he owed to King. He just knew that he would break down and be torn to shreds by the vicious teeth of war if it had not been for King’s way of peace to accomplish things. Another war like the civil war would have ended in total massacre, with blood smeared across anything left behind in it’s wake.

If King hadn’t been so bent on peaceful ways of getting the job done, so many more lives would have been loss… and Alfred trembled at the mere thought.

“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.”

Jones was greatly pleased to know that there were some whites in his land that were accepting of the black-skinned people. His heart swelled in love and hope. He was thinking that maybe, just maybe, someday all the people in these United States would be accepting of each other…well, that’s most likely a long ways away, so for now, racial acceptance is a very good start.

“We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.”

As King spoke, the people listened. Their hearts were lifted, cheers and applause ringing through out the monument’s site. Together, these people would be able to get through anything, standing tall and together. United, they stood. United, they were strong. United, they would win.

“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. 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 self-hood 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."”

This day was one of many days in the public known March on Washington. So many people were sneered at, insulted, and beaten as they walked on, suffering in silence and showing no fear or pain. Even when they were being hosed down by the firefighter’s hoses, which tore right through their clothes and ripped into their skin, they still marched on, their eyes set on the horizon that held hope for their futures.

They were sick of the White man’s abuse…they sat in the shadows for one century to long, and they felt it was time to break free from their bonds. They were ready to peacefully fight for their rights, and no tornado of pain would stand in their way.

“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. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- 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.”

Their pilgrimages were not going to go unnoticed, their long treks from all over the nation had lead them to the capital, to where their feet had guided them to the base of the Lincoln Memorial.

Their rewards for their battles was the knowledge that in the end, it would all pay off, earning them their freedom. When they return to their southern homes, the KKK would learn to be tolerant. When they return to their northern homes, the employers will learn to be more welcoming.

“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.”

Alfred perked up at the mention of the “American dream”. He always did, and was always interested in what others thought of this dream. He wanted to know what this great man thought of this dream, and how his own dream related to that great wish of this nation.

“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.”

The significant and leading man spoke these words that would someday be known. The people who stood in their many colored clothes were the canvas in which these phrases were brushed upon.

Alfred shared these dreams that were being voiced from the impressive presenter. It may not be believable to many, but Alfred had never been one for slavery, and had given it up many years before the Civil War. He knew that many of these people had been born on American soil, some of their family lines being able to be traced in this land for several generations.

“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!”

And there it was, the words that would be the focus of the memory of this man. Alfred F. Jones felt a high run through his body that he hadn’t experienced in quite a while. King’s words were unifying his nation, bringing them together- and the American people listened to this peaceful, dominating figure’s call. They dropped their prejudices and were swayed by the determination that tied in like ribbons.

“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 adream today!”

The voice of the swarm of cheering people rose several octaves as their leader uttered his line, Alfred enthusiastically joining in. This high was so addicting, so amazing, his very own kind of crack.

“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."
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.”

Alfred would do anything for the bliss he was feeling to last longer. He was still listening to the oration, each pronunciation being stamped on his heart. He could not believe that such a man came from his nation. He was rather sure that that was what his former mentor would be saying had he been there, listening along with Alfred to the speech.

“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.”

On this day, forevermore, no one could ever say again that the black people were lesser than the whites, fore King certainly was rising up high above his attackers and devils, he was the better man.

He had chosen to fight with words and in peaceful ways over throwing punches and causing the oppressors pain. No, he was much higher, better than that.

“And this will be the 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 Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.”

King had the people at his will. They were there, and they were ready for the beginning of a new era, an era where everyone was treated as equals as they should be. The time for waiting was over, now was the time to act!

His utterances had the crowd cheering so loudly that it seemed impossible for all of those on top of Capital Hill to not hear the voices crying for their own freedom. Those cursed politicians had no choice now but to finally listen to the tears that were wept for the past centuries. It was the White Man’s Burden (2) to act in accordance and take care of their “inferiors.” Only now, those “inferiors” were fighting for their right to be equal, and by god they were going to fight if was the last thing they did.

“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 snow-capped 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.”

There will be hateful whites, with hoses to knock them down to their knees. There will be those who do not want this change. There will be the Ku Klux Klan (3) of the south who will continue to terrorize the black residents there. There will be those in the north, whose ancestors only a few centuries before fought for the rights of the Black People, who will turn their noses up because they think themselves higher and more superior than those of colored skins.

But if it is called for, these people who have been pushed aside will come together and, hand-in-hand, they will silently march from coast to coast, mountain to mountain, and they will urge those who lend their ears to this worthy cause to join them in their bloodless battle.

“And when this happens, 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 whenall 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!
ThankGod Almighty, we are free at last!”

The personification of the United States of America cheered, letting the anguish and hate and fear all come out. He cried, allowing the hope and joy and faith wash over him. The final note of this musical speech had reached Alfred’s ears, and he hoped to whatever God there may be that many more people heard this dialogue and where permitting their hearts and souls to be lifted to the high heaves above and join in on this brutal fight.

The people knew that Martin Luther King Jr.’s beginning line of his oration had told the truth: today will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of this nation.

Alfred F. Jones was certainly glad to be an American.