In the jungles of Africa 200 years ago, white slavers snuck up on a Black man and threw a net over him.
The man struggled as he was dragged to a slave ship, and in horrible conditions, was stowed away to America, the land of the free.
He landed in a strange seaport he could not know was a bustling town in South Carolina. Soon he was standing on an auction block to be sold.
He looked out on the town square seeing white men and women laughing at him and his countrymen. Confused and ashamed, he lowered his noble head and cried.
He was sold and herded into a cart in chains. He was driven to a cotton plantation. There he picked cotton from dawn ‘till dusk. He was not a man, he was property.
On that plantation he was allowed a woman and soon they had a son, who picked cotton with them. Then there came a war to free the slaves. How their hearts flew to heaven thinking they would be free.
After the war the first slave’s son had a family, but were still treated like slaves.
This prejudice was passed from bigoted father to sons and daughters down the generations, the ridiculous idea that the tint of a person’s skin made him a lesser person. They foolishly believe skin color has something to do with who a person is.
Then on January 15, 1929 in Georgia, a grandson of a slave was born destined to help change this ignorance. Ironically, and undoubtedly planned in Heaven, this descendent of slaves was named King.
He marched and was beaten and jailed to make people see the light.
One day in Washington, D.C. he gave a stirring speech to thousands. These are some of the wonderful words he spoke that day:
“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 … this is our hope. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood … we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to stand up for freedom together, to go to jail together, knowing we will be free someday … from every mountainside, let freedom ring.
“And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York … let freedom ring from the snow capped Rockies of Colorado … Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. From every mountainside let freedom ring.
When we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will 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 old Negro spiritual: “Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, we are free at last!”
February is Black History Month. Be free of prejudice and please let it last.
Dennis Gregory writes a bi-monthly column for West Hawaii Today and your comments are welcome at makewavess@yahoo.com.