It was 1963.
He said he had a dream.
Now it's 2016,
And I have a dream.
I have a dream that I never have to hear a little girl with
Type 4 hair tell me that she wishes she had hair more like
that of her white friends.
I have a dream that, one day, the world won't be a place
where black mothers cry themselves to sleep full of the
guilt they feel for bringing a child into this place of
discrimination and hate. 
I have a dream that, one day, black men won't be known for
abandoning their children, but for their determination and
perseverance.
I have a dream that, one day, black women won't only be seen
for their curves, but for their independence and passion.
I have a dream that, one day, people of color will realize
how beautiful we all are.
I have a dream that, one day, the first thing I hear on the
morning news won't be a story of another black male or
female being a victim of police brutality. 
I have a dream that, one day, black actors and actresses
will be given as many if not more Oscar awards as their
white colleagues. 
I have a dream that, one day, people of color won't have to
feel the need to defend each other anymore. 
I have a dream that, one day, it won't be so shocking to see
a white man in a relationship with a black woman.
I have a dream that, one day, black students won't have to
be scared to do something as simple as walk across their
college campuses.
I have a dream that, one day, black people won't be the only
ones promoting Black History Month.
I have a dream that, one day, I'll live in a world where I
won't be black and you won't be white;
We'll just be people.
We're all people. Aren't we?
I have a dream that, one day, I'll wake up and realize that
this period of hate and hopelessness was all just a dream.