Tuesday, November 4, 2008

I Voted, I Volunteered, Now I'm Going Stir Crazy

I went to the voting booth today excited, but didn't expect to get quite as emotional as I did.

It was similar to being in Denver, waiting for Obama to make his acceptance of the nomination speech. Exactly 45 years, to the day, of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I have a dream" speech.

I related this in a post months ago, but I was remembering it as I entered the booth. That morning, one of the Alaska delegates, Cal, had surprised me when he was introduced as one of two in the Alaska democratic delegation who had been present during Dr King's speech.

When I asked him, as we boarded the plane back to Alaska, if he thought that he believed back then, listening to the speech, that there could be a black president in his lifetime. After some thought, he said that no, back then, and originally from the south, he guessed he didn't really think of that as a possibility. They hoped, back then, to be able to elect someone who could be an advocate for black rights, for civil rights.

I watched this morning on television as the news covered many people getting overcome with emotion as they voted, or even just before they voted. I am not black, but as a minority - or more importantly, simply as an American - it is moving to me that we are truly staring Dr. King's dream in the face.

Dr. King did not dream of a black president. I think that is too simplistic. He dreamed that "one day" his children would not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of the character.

Is this not what we have achieved today?

I was so proud of everyone I saw in those lines today. Here in Alaska, long lines just aren't ever a problem. But I watched the coverage of state after state of people willing to get up to go to the polls at 3am, and wait until they opened. Or people waiting for five, six, seven hours to vote. They showed some states had over half the state's voter population vote - by yesterday! The black population is voting in unprecedented numbers - and yet still all of America is voting in unprecedented numbers. The next president, if nothing else, will be decided by a true majority of the people.

A moment of humor at polling place, as well. My family all live within about a mile and a half of each other (I know, we didn't spread our wings well) and have the same precinct to report to. The tradition has been that the first one to vote begins the phone tree - because they know everyone who hasn't voted yet. Within a few hours, we all trek the quarter mile to go vote. We have, in times past, been called the "viting family." Not catchy, but a little bit of pride.

Today, there were different volunteers than usual. I was about midway in the family line of voters, and they commented that there were already several of us in (we all have the same last name.) The last to vote, my sister just an hour ago - the lady exclaimed, "Wow - there are a bunch of you!"

I'm proud to have voted today, and proud of a country that is coming out in full force to demand a change for the country. Even if the vote goes for McCain (at which point you won't be hearing from me for several days,) it has been truly a historic day in which the country was able to vote for a black president.

I leave you with the full text of Dr. King's speech:

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.


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 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 languishing in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful 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, 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." 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 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 quick sands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

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. 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 injustice. 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 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. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.


As we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always 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 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 selfhood 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. 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. 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 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. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.


I say to you today, my friends, 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. 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.


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.


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 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 that I go back to the South with. 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 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.


And when this happens, when we allow freedom to 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!"

2 comments:

Kathleen said...

God Bless America. As an Alaskan and and American I could not be more proud. Thank you everyone who went to effort to vote. This is truly the dawn of a new day in our nation. I loved the comment about MLK not seeking a black president, only seeking equality for his children. As a traditional WASP, I am deeply honored to see that long overdue dream come true.

Patrick Roberts said...

it's awesome that there has been this "problem" of long lines all over... people taking a greater interest in public issues is always a good thing