Every year on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, we pause to remember a man, a movement, and a moment in history that reshaped the moral direction of our country.

We quote his words.

We share his dream.

We honor his courage.

But beneath the familiarity of his most famous lines is a deeper, more unsettling invitation.

Not just to remember what he stood for.

But to examine what we are standing for now.

 

Fifty-eight years after his death, many of the questions Dr. King raised remain unanswered. And many now sit squarely at the feet of today’s leaders.

 

I don’t write about Martin Luther King Jr. as a distant historical figure.

I write as a Black American woman.

A wife to a Black man.

A mother to two Black sons.

A grandmother to six children, four of whom are biracial.

The daughter of parents, now gone, who worked as “the help,” never formally educated, but who made sure I was.

 

This day doesn’t feel abstract to me. It feels personal.

Because I know what it’s like to hope that my sons come home safe.

 

To pray that my husband returns home safely.

And to whisper a silent prayer of thanks every time he does.

 

A Dream Rooted in Risk — Not Comfort

 

Today, I feel a sense of urgency.

Because neither Dr. King’s dream nor the American dream feels guaranteed to my Millennial sons, despite their best efforts.

It’s not yet a broken promise. But it’s in jeopardy. And God only knows what the world will look like when my grandchildren reach adulthood.

 

Martin Luther King Jr. didn’t offer comfort. He demanded clarity. He didn’t ask us to settle for polite progress. He called for profound change — even when that change made others uncomfortable.

 

That’s what made him dangerous to the status quo.

That’s also what makes his legacy relevant today.

 

As leaders — whether in boardrooms, communities, or living rooms — we carry the same calling. The calling to ask:

• Who doesn’t get seen when we choose convenience?
• What gets preserved when we choose comfort over confrontation?
• Whose dream dies when we stay quiet, to “keep the peace”?

 

Comfortable leadership isn’t harmless.

It often upholds what needs to be dismantled.

 

That’s why I believe: living the dream isn’t about easy plans or optimistic slogans.

It’s about moral clarity. Conviction. A readiness to stand for each other.

But standing is rarely easy, and living love on purpose doesn’t come with assurances.

 

It comes with risks and questions.

 

The Leadership Question Beneath the Holiday

 

Dr. King’s life still asks us a piercing question:

What are you willing to disrupt to lead in alignment with your values?

 

Not in theory.

Not in carefully worded statements.

But in the everyday decisions that shape culture, policy, and people’s lives.

 

Modern leaders may not face the same dangers Dr. King faced.

But many still face danger. Real risk. Personal cost.

Especially those whose very presence challenges the status quo.

 

The risks include:

• Speaking truth when it’s unpopular.
• Standing apart when blending in would be easier.
• Falling out of favor to keep your integrity.
• Retribution for upholding the law.

 

That’s where leadership still gets tested—

Not in ease, but in discomfort.

Not in popularity, but in principle.

 

From Selma to the Supreme Court — The Fight Continues

 

Over a century ago, in 1868, the 14th Amendment guaranteed birthright citizenship to most people born in the United States. But today, that guarantee is under review. In 2025, the Supreme Court agreed to hear challenges to birthright citizenship arising from an executive order signed by President Donald J. Trump on January 20, 2025. The order seeks to end automatic citizenship for U.S.-born children of parents who entered the U.S. illegally or on temporary visas.

 

Meanwhile, the Court is also hearing redistricting cases and revisiting parts of the Voting Rights Act, which became law on August 6, 1965. The Court’s decision could eliminate protections that many had assumed were permanent.

 

These aren’t distant legal abstractions. They are living questions — the same kinds of questions Dr. King and many civil rights leaders confronted and died for.

 

And they matter for every leader who believes in justice and equality.

 

What’s Still Worth Fighting For

 

Some days, it feels like we’re walking in circles — backwards.

Fighting for protections that we believed were settled.

Answering questions that were already answered.

Watching history repeat with a modern twist.

 

And yet—

I still believe.

 

I believe in justice that doesn’t expire.

In dignity that isn’t up for debate.

In a future where my grandchildren don’t have to fight the same old battles because we chose not to quit.

 

Dr. King’s dream may have seemed unrealistic or naive. But it was neither. It was disciplined hope, rooted in human rights. He had hope that:

Could withstand delay.

Refused to fold in the face of backlash.

Saw the arc of the moral universe—and kept pulling it toward justice, even when the arc resisted.

 

That kind of hope still matters.

That kind of leadership still matters.

 

Even when it’s messy and maddening.

Even when it feels like progress has stalled.

We are not starting over. We are continuing.

 

And the dream is still worth it.