What living by Dr. King’s example means today
As the second Black mayor of New York City, I draw daily inspiration from the life and legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. He is more than a prophetic voice that echoes through history. He is a symbol of how to live, and what to live for.
In 1963 in Detroit, King famously said: “If a man hasn’t found something he will die for, he isn’t fit to live.” Nearly 60 years later, we must ask ourselves that very question: What are we willing to put on the line in the cause of righteousness?
Injustice is all around us. We see it in our homeless New Yorkers sleeping in the cold, unsheltered and needing our support. We see it in the huddled families fearing eviction in the aftermath of the pandemic’s economic devastation. We see it in the attacks on our Asian brothers and sisters, wrongfully blamed for the pandemic itself.
We see it in the fortunes that were built on slavery, desperation and inequality. We see it in environmental racism that pumps out toxic air in communities of color and poisons the water people of color must drink. We see it in the street violence that entangles our young people, in the brutality that keeps them in the pipeline to prison. And we see it in the gun violence that knows no boundaries of color or community.
Racism is resurgent, flooding our social media channels and spilling into the streets as people are radicalized for profit. Voting rights are threatened in full view of every citizen by politicians who have contempt for the will of the people.
Americans are frightened that our nation may be headed down the darkest of roads to another civil war. They wonder why they are working so hard, fighting so bravely, enduring so much, only to watch the guilty evade justice and wrongdoers go unpunished for even the most obvious of crimes.
Decades after the marches for civil rights, more Americans may be free — but we are also expendable.
We saw that during the pandemic, when so many essential workers were at risk — doctors, nurses, hospital workers, first responders, teachers, transit workers, delivery people. Two years into this crisis, faced with a loss of faith in our institutions, and growing social and political upheaval, we must ask ourselves what we can do to further the cause of justice, just as King would have.
We must challenge ourselves to take his place. To be King-like. To push through fear to do what is right. We must live out King’s dream in righteous deeds, not just words of praise.
What does being King-like mean in practice? It means supporting and uplifting the entire working class. Equal opportunity, fair pay and union power.
It means housing justice for all, working together as a society to keep people in their homes, in their city, with dignity and affordability.
It means health care for the people. Providing care and compassion wherever it is needed, to anyone who needs it.
It means working to end segregation in our schools — even if it is legal segregation. Separate can never be equal.
It means protecting civil rights, human rights and the sacred right to vote. Every elected official standing in the way of voting rights legislation at this moment desecrates the memory of King as surely as if they defaced his gravesite.
And, finally, being more Kinglike means coming together to end the gun violence that rips apart bodies, communities and our democracy.
A gunshot ended King’s life, but it did more than kill one man. It disrupted our entire society. As a child, I watched the riots, the rage of a people in shock and mourning. King preached nonviolence, but we have not heeded his call.
More than half a century has passed since King’s death. Future Kings are killed every day.
Kristal Bayron-Nieves, a 19-year-old girl working her job in East Harlem, was gunned down before she could ever live her dream. But we will not let Kristal go, just as we will not let King go.
In her memory, in his memory, in the memory of all those who were killed by gun violence, racism, or hate over these many centuries of struggle. We must keep that dream of racial justice and freedom alive. It is our great moral and civic duty to fulfill that vision, to build it back stronger than ever.
That is why I call on all of us to mark this day not just with prayer and praise, but service. To make this dream real through acts of everyday kindness and years of unrelenting effort.
We must ignite our spirit, renew our commitment, and rebuild this city on what King called “the solid rock of brotherhood.” Building is work, not words. And now is the time to get this done.