Welcome to the Promised Land

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.
Martin Luther King, Memphis,TN on April 3rd, 1968, the day before his assassination.


When I think of death and of dying it isn't the fact that there is nothing afterwards that disturbs me. It isn't the fear of whatever pain may accompany the event. It is the idea that a million wonderful things will come that I will not live to see. Now I can say that I have lived to see the fulfillment of the promise upon which our country was founded. I have lived to see a time when all men are allowed the pursuit of happiness.

There are a great many more things I hope to see: a country where protection under the law is not dependent on sexual orientation; a victory over sexism like last night's victory over racism when a woman becomes our president. I'm pretty sure the Martians will land in Times Square after I breath my last, but I have lived to see this and truly, it is enough.

I mourn though, for the men who dared to dream of this day. What a pity that neither Martin Luther King nor Coretta Scott King lived to see this day. But their children did. And that's why they sacrificed what they did. Some time ago in a fit of feminism I reminded my goddaughter that there was nothing a man could do that she couldn't. Her reply? "Who doesn't know that?". And while it saddened me to think that she has no clue about the struggle that came before to grant her this optimism now, I was grateful that she would never know the oppression that had been overcome. Some day, the poor or black or Hispanic or Asian child will never remember a time when a black man couldn't be President. There will come a time when racism will be the exclusive and anachronistic province of provincials and the ignorant (although I believe it already is for the most part).

Somewhere, I hope, in a heaven I don't believe in, on this day there is joy for Medgar Evers, Malcom X, Emmet Till, the murdered voter registration workers, Rosa Parks and the countless millions who came in chains to build a nation which rejected them and their children. On this day I say "thank you" not to God, but to all the brave who came before. This is indeed the promised land of which Martin Luther King spoke. And this day proves it. Perhaps at last, we Americans, black, white, male, female, gay and straight, We the People have overcome.