Journal Entry #548
Date: August 28, 2019
The sun rays felt as though they were burning through my skin on that late August day. I stood there at the Lincoln Memorial, only thirteen years old waiting for his speech to begin. I was packed in by swarms of people, and then his voice came over the microphone, so soft yet strong. His first words “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.” In that one sentence I became captivated by each word that rolled off his tongue, and listened attentively as he continued. And then “ 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, 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.” Martins dream resonated through my ears, because I too had that dream. At this point in time it was hard to be an African American girl, I was constantly judged by the color of my skin and by my gender. I had nowhere to run nor hide and my only escape was to hope and dream for a better nation. This dream of mine that was so similar to Martin’s was why I felt that we had a personal connection. Even though we were ages apart, we shared that hope for a better nation, and if he was alive today, I would tell him that I still dream.
I dream that police brutality would end. I dream that unlawful imprisonment would stop. I dream that white women would not clench their purses as a black man walks by them. I dream that I would be seen as more than just my skin color and gender. I would tell Martin that I seem to be dreaming for not only the disparity between the way blacks are viewed compared to the whites but for gun violence to stop, and for the United States to not shut their doors on the people of other countries needing help. I wish I could tell Martin that I no longer needed to dream because peace had finally blanketed the nation, but I still do dream.
This prompt came from the Hebron Writing Contest and asked my peers and I to travel back in time to and write about a real or fictional historical event. I decided to try something different and do a journal entry of a young African American girl who was first-hand hearing Martin Luther Kings “I Have a Dream” speech. I wish I had conveyed her emotions better in this piece and gave more details about it. I feel that if I did that my piece would have been a lot better overall.
Emily, I liked how you wrote this as a journal entry from the perspective of a young girl because there is a sense of innocence that comes with that. I like how you portrayed her emotions and connected them to MLKs speech. Good job.
Great Job Emily! I really enjoyed reading this due to the amount of descriptive language and the connection of Martin Luther King Jr and his emotions. His speech was very captivating and that’s why I was so interested in reading this. Yet again good job!