Commentary : Dr. King’s Dream Remembered

The first time I heard Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I have a dream” oratory, I was a high school freshman and his words brought tears to my eyes. I’m now a sophomore at UC Irvine, where Asians, blacks, Indians, Latinos and whites compete for grades within a colorblind system--or at least so I thought until last week.

En route to a Spanish class, I noticed a crowd of students gathered outside the University Center. Knowing that UCI was hosting a Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. symposium in honor of his birthday, I stopped to join the rally.

There was a female speaker. She spoke with deep conviction. Her voice was loud and clear. Her skin was black. I listened.

She preached of a fire that we should keep burning. “Never let it die,” she said. And then she went on to say that we must learn to accept ourselves to keep the fire alive, using the analogy of self-acceptance as a log to fuel the flame.

For blacks, she said, this means accepting the fact that “we were born with colored skin.” She warned that blacks should not “act white.” They should be black and always greet the brothers and sisters warmly. A group of black students--all wearing red shirts--gave her verbal support.

“Those are the brothers and sisters,” I thought to myself, and I struggled with the recognition that I could not be part of that group because I’m white.

I saw a friend in the group. His name is Shawn and we usually talk when we see each other. But we wouldn’t talk today. Even though it was clear to me that I would be out of place on the other side of the crowd, I tried to get Shawn’s attention--but he didn’t see me. Or didn’t want to.

Something was wrong. Where was the hope in this speaker’s words? I remembered how Dr. King made me feel, and this was different, very different. Resentment, not hope, filled the air.

The speaker then turned her thesis on whites.

She said whites had to accept the fact that they are descendants of men who enslaved other men. She also said she would not want to be white, because she would have to be conscious of the responsibility whites should feel for what their ancestors did. This brought cheers from the red shirts and made me feel even more alienated--as if they were holding me responsible for what happened!

I realized class would be starting soon and left the crowd. Feeling alone as I walked along the busy pathway, I tried to make sense of it all. Would Dr. King have approved of this? I thought he wanted us to be unconcerned with skin color, and I couldn’t figure out the symbolism of the speaker’s “fire.”

Then it became clear to me that, although I doubt she would agree, the fire she feeds is racial prejudice. I thought about black fraternities and the Black Student Union on my campus. And I wondered if they really want to abolish racial discrimination as Dr. King did. Or do they really want to separate themselves from the mainstream to feel special--a human thing to do?

Again I thought of King’s words. I didn’t go to Spanish that day. I went to the library instead. There I found what I was looking for in a speech Dr. King gave Aug. 28, 1963, to a crowd of 200,000 Americans:

“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.’ Sons of former slaves and sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood . . . in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character . . . little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.”

He ended that speech by saying, “This is our hope.”

It’s my hope too.