I join you in your affirmation of life, and I hope that you have sustained the inward peace that follows a refusal to do that which one considers morally wrong, despite the consequences. Imprisonment of the body is certainly a small price to pay for freedom of the spirit.
— Coretta Scott King, September 1969 letter to me in support of my draft resistance activism
Today, April 4, is the 57th anniversary of the day Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot and killed in Memphis, Tennessee. King was there to support the labor strike of the sanitation workers of that town, a cause which had gathered national attention at the time. He came to Memphis to stand up publicly for their righteous cause despite warnings from many sources that there was serious personal risk if he did so.
King put doing what was morally right ahead of his personal safety. He put the greater good of humankind ahead of everything else. He was a living example who continues to inspire many decades later.
That example meant the world to me at the time as an 18 year old trying to figure out what I should be doing with my life. I had heard Dr. King speak in person twice, once in Lancaster, Pa. at the age of 14 when my father took me to hear him speak at Franklin and Marshall College, and the second time in October of 1967 at Grinnell College in Iowa a couple of months into my freshman year. After that speech, I went up front and was able to shake his hand.
I was still trying to figure it out six months later when King was assassinated. I was struggling with whether I should become an activist, do something about the Vietnam War in particular. Just a month before King was killed, I had been asked by a friend in my dorm if I wanted to go to Chicago to take part in an anti-war demonstration. I remember very clearly how I struggled with what I should do. In the end I decided not to go.
What happened in Memphis literally changed my life. I mark April 4, 1968 as the beginning of my life of progressive activism and organizing because, in response to King’s death, I stayed up late that night putting together a petition to Congress and posted it prominently on the wall in one of the most frequently visited buildings on campus.
The petition was very weak. It called upon Mike McCormack, the then-Speaker of the House and Mike Mansfield, the Senate Majority Leader, to take action to address the social and economic conditions King had devoted his life to changing. After a couple of days, with signatures of over half of the student body, I sent the petition off to DC.
Ever since, I have done the best I could to follow King’s example, speaking out and organizing and taking action. At the age of 75, I have no intention of ever stopping doing that.
A year and a half after King’s killing I received a personally typed letter from Coretta Scott King, King’s widow and fellow activist for peace and justice. Someone who knew me and who spent some time with her told her about my decision to resist the draft, including a public refusal of induction into the army in early September, 1969. Just like many today trying to end the Natanyahu regime’s genocidal war against Gaza and Palestine, I was willing to risk going to jail, and later did, because of how strongly I felt about the US war being waged on the peoples of Indochina.
Substantive change, change that is desperately needed, doesn’t happen without hard work, without sacrifice, suffering and struggle.
Frederick Douglass is famous for something much deeper that he said on August 4, 1857:
Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet deprecate agitation, are those who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its waters. This struggle may be a moral one; or it may be a physical one; or it may be both moral and physical; but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did, and it never will. Find out just what people will submit to, and you have found out the exact amount of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them; and these will continue until they are resisted with either words or blows, or with both. The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress.
King and Douglass were not saying that our lives need to be constant work, constant struggle against the racist, rich and regressive, predominantly white men with whom we must do battle. Both of them were part of an African-grounded culture in which singing and community-building were central. The civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s was a movement where singing was essential to the ability of that movement to ultimately win major victories, after years of struggle and sacrifice. And it wasn’t just singing in churches at rallies. People sang in jail. People sang when demonstrating right next to white racists. Singing gave them power.
2025 is a big year for us, and fortunately many of us are stepping up to the plate accordingly. Our grandchildren and great grandchildren and the seven generations to come need us to keep working hard and together to defeat Trump, Musk and MAGA, doing so in a way which lays the basis for the transformative, systemic change so desperately needed in this time of deepening inequality and climate emergency.
Long live the spirit of Coretta Scott and Martin Luther King!