The Dream is Still Waiting

Dear Diary,

“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.”

I spoke those words on August 28, 1963.

63 years ago.

63 years has come and gone.

Today is Martin Luther King Jr. Day. Today is the day that these United States of America recognizes my contribution to the civil rights movement. Not just for Negros but for all people. Even parts of Canada, Japan and the Netherlands host events in honor of me.

In honor of me…

One would think I would be overjoyed with the celebrations but I’m not. My heart is heavy. America may be remembering me but she has forgotten the dream.

I had a dream that all people, regardless of race or color, would unite and together we would achieve the American Dream of freedom and a better life.

Yet the ones with the vast wealth are making sure their pockets grow fatter as they watch their neighbor struggle to feed their family.

I had a dream that people would not be judged by the color of their skin but by their character.

Yet the police are called on my brown brothers and sisters simply for walking down the street.

I had a dream that freedom would ring.

Yet the only sound we hear is the sound of a grieving family - mourning a loved one who has been hunted down like a wild animal for sport. Or the sound of a young child crying because there’s no food to eat.

I had a dream that this nation would live up to its creed “that all men are created equal.”

Yet a person is not paid their worth because of their race or gender.

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” Iconic lines etched on The Statue of Liberty.

Lady Liberty – a symbol of freedom, democracy and opportunity – a representation of new beginnings - a beacon of hope for immigrants.

Hope. The very thing being snatched from those who come to this country hungry for the promise that America made - the promise of liberty and justice for all.

Yet they are met with open hatred and hostility.

The dream was not supposed to die with me. America was supposed to become the dream.

She still can.

The dream is still waiting.

~ King ~