Today is the thirty second anniversary of the March On Washington. On this day, 33 years ago, it was the largest and most significant demonstration of its kind in the history of the United States.
Yaz sent me this link, which I had never seen before, this morning, reminding me of today’s momentous anniversary…thank you, Yaz!
There were many, many people who spoke and sang in Washington that day, in the name of freedom. And when I say freedom, I mean actual freedom; not the current administration’s curious interpretation of that noble word. So many people turned out that day, of all colours and walks of life. But anyone who knows me even a little bit knows that for me, the most important, most impactful person at that demonstration was Martin Luther King, Jr, and the speech he made that day.
Every year on this anniversary…or round about on the anniversary, since I suck at remembering dates…I read, and since the advent of the Internets, I listen to I Have A Dream again, usually more than once. I am, in fact, listening to it right at this very moment, as I type this. Every time I listen to it, it makes me completely emotional, because it’s something I’ve held close to me as long as I’ve been alive. It means so much to me. I believe in this message with every fiber of my being. My entire life has been wrapped up in this speech. From my earliest years, I remember my mother talking about Dr King, reciting lines from this speech and oftentimes reading me the entire speech at a go…at first because she loved it, but then because I requested it.
In the eighth grade, it was this speech that I chose to memorize and recite in front of my class. One of my best memories of my mother is working on editing this speech so I could use it for that school project, because it’s just too long for an English class. I remember that some people laughed at me because I was so passionate…but I also remember not caring, because I knew whoever laughed was too ignorant to pay any attention to anyway.
Now, as I type this, as I listen to Dr King’s cruelly silenced voice reach out and touch the hearts of everyone within hearing on that summer day more than three decades past, I can hear the heated murmuring of my roommates as they discuss the situation in Iraq. I am reminded of Simon and Garfunkel, and their version of the song Silent Night, set over an evening newscast.
I listen, and I think about Iraq, and I am reminded of Vietnam. I am reminded of soldiers dying, I am reminded of hatred and torture and murder, and peace and hope and a bright future. I am reminded of corruption and vigilance, of tyranny and of revolution. I am reminded that as far as we have come, we still have such an infinite way to go, as a society, as a nation, as a species.
Whatever you’re doing right now, stop and listen. You can spare the time. Listen, and remember, and be inspired to do your part. We are all responsible for one another. Yes, we are. Remember that this man was murdered for these words, like so many before him, and so many after. If there is but one soul still enchained, none of us can ever know the true taste of freedom.
When you listen, and I hope you do, keep your ear tuned for what I believe is the very best part of this, or really any, speech. Dr King asks a question at one point: When will we be satisfied? Members of the crowd call back “NEVER!”
This moment in this speech is the perfect illustration of why I never give up or back down, no matter how difficult the struggle forward for freedom and equality seems. If not me, then who? Someone has to speak out, someone has to refuse to be cowed. I know that I, for one, will never be satisfied until freedom does ring, and not just in one country, but all. If people like Martin Luther King can die for it, then I certainly have no business giving up when I hardly lift a finger in the first place. No, I’ll never be satisfied. Never.
To me, that says it all.
Peace.
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