Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand 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 captivity.
But one hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still 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 languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize an appalling condition.
In a sense we have 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 would be guaranteed the inalienable 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 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. So we have 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 rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God's children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment and to underestimate the determination of the Negro. 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. 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 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 their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" 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 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.
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 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 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, that in spite of the difficulties and frustrations of the moment, 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 a table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a desert state, sweltering with the heat of injustice and oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four 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 the state of Alabama, whose governor's lips are presently dripping with the words of interposition and nullification, will be transformed into a situation where little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls and walk together 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 with which I return to the South. 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 a 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. 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 peaks 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 every molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
When we let 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!"
- Mood:
hopeful
That is all. :(
- Mood:
angry
- Mood:
content
So, I was talking to a friend earlier this summer who mentioned the obvious—that about the same time Andre moved in with me in the city, I seemed to undergo a profound shift in personality. And not for the better. I've been withdrawn from all my friends here, perpetually sick with some ailment or another and in general I've gone into what can only be described as “turtle” mode. And I've been stuck there for five years.
This observation is not wrong. However, it does lay the blame, as it were, in the wrong direction. Sort of.
It was almost five years to the month when I had been invited to go to the gay pride parade with Chuck, Jan, Jen, Fareed, and Craig. This would be the first in a long list of times that I blew off my friends. Andre had moved in a few weeks before and this was the first time I had been in a real relationship and certainly the first time in any kind of relationship with a man. Anywhoo...ack, this is harder than it should be, but oddly cathartic...Andre knew that there was something bothering me that day; something big. We had talked about it before, in brief, but now—probably because of the new direction my life was going in and all of the new issues it was bringing up—it wasn't going to be ignored. He held me as I sat on my futon and cried for hours, laying out every detail I could remember and every pain I felt about an episode of molestation from my childhood done to me by an older boy that I had loved and trusted completely.
It was the first time I really and truly let myself feel what I had been carrying around and, though I'd like to say after a good cry I got up, joined my friends and carried on, I didn't. I let that pain and that trauma just envelop me, let it pull me down to a dark, deep place. I started to feel like a zombie, drifting through from day to day not caring about anything. I didn't care about my education enough to bother to try in the Master's program at Acadia so I dropped out. I didn't care about myself enough not to overeat and spiral into depression and eventually agoraphobia, and I didn't care about my friends enough to keep in touch with them. I didn't care enough about Andre to be stronger for both of us.
I'm not trying to paint myself as a victim here. I mean, I've spent the last five years perfecting the art of being a victim, of feeling weak and stupid and hating myself and everything around me. I've spend five years avoiding normal things as much as I possibly can because I feel distrust and fear of the world around me. Sure, there have been small triumphs: I've managed to get a job—but yet my attendance record is so bad I'm sure to be sacked. I still have my relationship, but it's not what it was and will probably never be what it fully could be. After going through so many hells together, how can it be untainted? I still struggle everyday with the dilemma of how to keep it afloat when everything in me is screaming to run. I still have friends, but I've shut them out so long we probably really barely know each other. And I am, above all, still alive—but not without physical scars.
I think back to that day, five years ago, and I wish I had been with my friends at the parade instead of crying on that stupid futon. I wish that I had been strong enough to talk about what had happened and then just put it behind me. I wish that I had been brave enough to face the world even though I was afraid of it. I feel like I want to do that now, but part of it feels useless. I've got myself so conditioned to living in this shell, I'm not sure how to come out of it again. Maybe writing this will help. I don't know. What I do know is I just want to be “me” again. I want my confidence, my humor, my warmth, my sense of adventure, and I want it not to be an act. There are maybe only two people in this world who have really seen glimpses of those things in the last five years, and I dearly love them both but I want to share those things with everyone.
Hmm...what to say now? Shut up Wesley!
- Mood:
drained
Hello?
So yeah...I can't even really claim that I abandoned my journal because things have been shitty, because they really haven't been. Just have spent time with me and my thoughts and trying to sort stuff out, and I think a lot of that had to happen on the inside, without sharing. Of course, that was very selfish, but I think I needed to be selfish, for awhile.
I miss my friends, but I have only myself to blame...erg. I feel better now though, more sure of things and a bit more brave :)
Some recent highlighs in case anyone is counting:
1. Still at Scotiabank. Have been off work on short-term disability because I threw my back out May 9th. Fun times. Back in physio. Ouchie.
2. Got an X-Box 360. Singing horribly away at Rock Band and loving it.
3. Started reading books en masse again, including the Merry Gentry books (facepalm).
4. Been looking for work in other places, and plotting escapes to New Zealand. I loved living there, and if I can convince *someone* to come with me for even just a year I'd be there before the next full moon. I keep thinking about the sunlight on the harbour, the monastary on the hill, the taste of pinapple lumps and milk bottles and round, plump persimmons. These things make me feel peaceful, even if I may in reality never see or taste or smell them again.
5. Still playing WoW--though I convince myself it's a social outlet. Woo. Eilyse/Peasel on Gilneas if anyone didn't know who might care :)
- Mood:
calm
Customer: "Excuse me, do you have such a thing as cold hot chocolate?"
Barista: "So, um, you mean chocolate milk?"
Customer: "Chocolate....milk....?"
*silence as the young man ponders this possibility*
Customer: "Yes, may I have one of those please."
- Mood:
contemplative
Thoughts swarm in my brain at this hour and create a cacophony of noise and color and chaos that my fingers can’t keep up with as they nimbly pound on smooth and familiar keys. Words like mauve and Birmingham and creamery and migration are in there, cozying up to opulent and sad and narcissistic and classic. I like the way they sound, the things they make me think of, the strange and endless ways I could mash words like these together into nonsensical stories or meaningless rants or, quite by accident, into some truth.
It’s early New Year’s Day and a year has died, another’s begun, though despite high hopes and already broken promises not much has changed from yesterday to today; when the drunken haze wears off and the morning light is greeted with hope it will, after all that fuss, to some of us just be another morning. I never much liked New Year’s Day; seems a day of disappointed hopes somehow, like when I first realize that I’m still myself and no calendar date will change the things I don’t like.
Now, that’s a positive start.
Things are moving quickly now and as my arms get tired and I know I need to turn off the lights lie down, I’ll lie there for what will feel like an eternity, my mind moving, slipping, sliding, shifting, unable to rest as my body slides into sleep. My dreams will be of a house long lost, of distant seas I wish to see and perhaps children who look something like me. I think tonight, there will be three.
- Mood:Strange
Things *are* getting better--my meds have been upped, and my return to work has been set for January, so I at least will be able to relax through the holiday and try to focus on small things, like walks to the library and exercise. Reading has been my friend as well, and I've long ago passed my 50 books in a year goal.
Today I'm stewing down an enormous pumpkin that my parents grew and plan on making pies, bread, and maybe even soup. I also have a ton of apples to slice and freeze and a messy apartment to clean. Cheers for keeping occupied :)
- Mood:
weird
http://www.cbc.ca/arts/books/story/2
I can hear the sound of a million fangirls screaming in delight all at once :D
- Mood:
bouncy
- Mood:
sore
Still reading (read all of #44 - The Devil of Nanking while waiting for the clinic today--3 hours!)
and #45, 46 - On the banks of plum creek and By the shores of silver lake
- Mood:
sick
We got a Wii which has been fun (Big Brain--sweet!) and I've been reading a lot of comics. I also finished Deathly Hallows and am picking my way through my children's book collection. Speaking of reading, here's what I've been up to in no particular order:
#32 - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (of course!) - J.K. Rowling
#33 - Animal Man Trade Paperback #1 - Morrison
#34 - Animal Man: Origin of the Species - Morrison
#35 - Batman: A Death in the Family - Starlin
#36 - Batman: Harley and Ivy - Misc, though the Dini story was genious
#37 - Deenie - Judy Blume
#38 - Little House on the Prairie - Laura Wilder
#39 - Claudia and the Great Search - Ann Martin
#40, 41, 42 - Full Circle, Changes, and Zoya by Danielle Steele (I have no excuse :P)
#43 - 1408 - Stephen King
I've also been keeping up with the following comics:
-Teen Titans
-JSA
-JLA
-Y the Last Man
-Fables
-Midnighter
-Authority
-Action Comics
-Countdown
-Black Canary
-Green Arrow Year One
-Robin
-All Star Batman and Robin
-Birds of Prey
-Buffy Season 8
-Manhunter
-Green Lantern (a bit)
(There are a few more titles but I can't recall them off the top of my head)
- Mood:
lethargic
#31 - World Without a Superman
No big post today...just getting ready to change into pj's and get to bed. The battle with the ants is ongoing, my probation at work is nearing closer, and I'm on the fence about wanting to move this year or not.
- Mood:
nostalgic
#29 - Batman: A Death in the Family
Part time has arrived, my searing shoulder pain has largely subsided. It's been nice.
This week also marks five years since I met Andre (and ten years since I graduated high school--eep!) We went out for steak. Yum.
- Mood:
loved
#27 - Song of Susannah - Stephen King
Part time starts on Tuesday. Blessed, long-awaited part time. I've been in physio 2 times a week since February and it's still not enough, and I'm worried about permanent injury if I don't get off the computer soon, so it's about time. Life has been sleep, physio, work, then resting to recover from the pain of work for the last few solid months, with as little typing at home as possible. The apartment has been chaos as it kills to use my arm at all and my writing? I've not written a word on any of my projects in months. It will be nice to do more than work and rest and take painkillers...I can't wait ^____^
- Mood: hopeful
#25 - These Happy Golden Years - Laura Ingalls Wilder
- Mood: calm
1. You can only say YES or NO!
2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone comments to the entry and asks.
Taken a picture naked? Yes.
Made out with a member of the same sex? Yes
Danced in front of your mirror? Yes.
Told a lie? Yes.
Gotten in a car with people you just met? Yes.
Been in a fist fight? Yes.
Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back? Yes.
Been arrested? Almost :P
Left your house without telling your parents? Yes.
Ditched school to do something more fun? Yes
Slept in a bed with a member of the same sex? Yes.
Seen someone die? No.
Kissed a picture? Yes.
Slept in until 3? Yes.
Laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by? Yes.
Played dress up? Yes.
Fallen asleep at work/school? Yes.
Felt an earthquake? Yes
Touched a snake? Yes.
Ran a red light? Yes.
Had detention? Yes.
Been in a car accident? Yes.
Pole danced? No.
Been lost? Yes
Sang karaoke? Yes.
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? Yes.
Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? Yes
Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes
Kissed in the rain? Yes
Sang in the shower? Yes.
Got your tongue stuck to a pole? Yes
Ever gone to school partially naked? No.
Sat on a roof top? Yes.
Played chicken? No
Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? Yes.
Been told you're hot by a complete stranger? No.
Broken a bone? Yes
Mooned/flashed someone? Yes.
Forgotten someone's name? Yes.
Slept naked? Yes.
Blacked out from drinking? Yes.
Played a prank on someone? Yes
Felt like killing someone? Yes.
Made a parent cry? Yes.
Cried over someone? Yes.
Had sex more than 5 times in one day? No.
Had/Have a dog? Yes.
Been in a band? Yes.
Drank 25 sodas in a day? Unsure
Shot a gun? No
- Mood:
amused
#22 - The Wastelands (The Dark Tower III) by Stephen King
#23 - Wizard and Glass (The Dark Tower IV) by Stephen King
- Mood:
exhausted
#20 - The Patchwork Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum
I'm currently working on some non-fiction at the moment: The G.I. Diet and the wonderful Offbeat Bride: Taffeta-Free Alternatives for Independent Brides. I'm bound and determined that if we're having a wedding at all it will not be of the traditional kind. They may be lovely, but they just don't seem to fit 'us' as it were. I'm not a frills and lace type of girl, I don't like big formal church ceremonies, and I don't like the idea of entertaining 300 people that we are loosely related to and who don't know a thing about us, as terrible as that might sound. Small, simple, fun, informal and inexpensive sound perfect for me, with as little hoopla/fuss/stress as possible. (Did I mention small? If I had purely my way it would be five people: me, Andre, justice of the peace, and the required two witnesses.)
Things health wise have been okay. I'm still trying to get my body on line with the new diet plan and stuff.
- Mood: drained
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