Personal Narrative: The Fight For Civil Rights

It was August 28, 1963. Mom was yelling and holding up her “Martin Luther King, a liar, a troublemaker” sign. Next to her were my brother and my dad, they just mumbled and cursed. While everyone cheered and jumped for joy when Dr. King uttered the words, “I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood”, it was like my whole family rolled their eyes simultaneously. All but me, I was the only one who thought that every man should have equal rights regardless of their race, beliefs, gender (etc…). I sided with the rest of the people at the Lincoln Memorial who believed in equal rights.
My whole family hated Dr. King. They never wanted equality, they never wanted peace, they never wanted justice for the black people of America. They wanted everything to stay the same in our country. This probably being because my family, many years ago, owned a multitude of slaves. They believed and taught their children to believe that all colored people should never be considered equal to anyone. My parents taught me from a very young age that if I ever saw a black man approaching me, to run as fast as I could in the other direction. And
I had felt like I had done what I was put on the earth to do. Even at age 68, I still think about Dr. King’s speech. One quote in particular stands out to me, “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 believe that now, in this day and age, most people consider all men to be created equal, or they at least act like they do. That was my belief since I was a young girl: all men and women should be considered equal no matter the race, education, religion (etc..), and I am very satisfied with my