Dr. King was a giant, but history is also made by ordinary people standing up for what’s right.
Every year, the arrival of the Martin Luther King holiday calls us to pause and reflect on Dr. King’s legacy. And every year, I’m struck by the same thing: as sincere as we are in our reverence for Dr. King, we keep learning the wrong lessons not just from his life but from history writ large.
Let
me explain.
In
my life, in our lives as Americans, there are people and stories that inspire
us. The stories go something like this: “Abraham Lincoln freed enslaved
people,” or “Dr. King gave a wonderful speech and we had civil rights in our
nation.”
They
are nice stories. But Lincoln didn’t end slavery alone. And Dr. King,
throughout his incredible life and career, was supported by the work of
thousands of unknown and largely unsung people who made his accomplishments
possible.
These
people were the women who set up the chairs in the church halls for meetings,
the men who drove supporters to events and voters to the polls, and the
grandmothers who called friends and neighbors to gather crowds to hear Dr.
King’s message. They were the people who risked their lives in marches, faced
arrest and abuse by police, and battled segregation in their everyday lives.
By
the time Dr. King stood up to speak — and certainly by the time he gave his
most famous speech on the National Mall — he stood on the shoulders of
thousands of people who worked, organized, and sacrificed.
That
makes all the difference in the lesson we should learn from Dr. King’s life and
from the lives of other great leaders. Too often, the morals of the stories
that elevate one person are this: “We need another hero,” or “If only we had
another Dr. King alive today.”
But
that is the wrong lesson.
Why? Because then we sit on our hands waiting for that person to come along and work miracles. We elect a president and we say, “We can’t wait to see how he saves us.” In reality, we are all needed to save us. No leader can accomplish great things alone.
There
is a debate over this principle in the academic world today, in the pushback
against the so-called “Great Man Theory” of history. The Great Man Theory is
exactly what it sounds like: attributing all the advances of history to the
genius of individuals like George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, or Winston
Churchill.
It
is how most of us were taught history. The debate and pushback rightly center
on questioning a model that overwhelmingly exalts white men while ignoring the
contributions of other peoples. But we need to remember that our more recent
heroes did not act alone, either.
Every
successful person who commits to making life better for people — and for that
matter, every destructive person who harms people and communities — does so
with the contributions of numerous others. We can see this in our own lives.
In
my case, I spent my early childhood in a homeless shelter. Because of the work
and dedication of my family, the elected officials who created the Pell Grants
that allowed me to go to college, and the donors who believed in me, I was able
to grow up, graduate from Cornell University, and be elected to successive
terms as mayor of Ithaca, New York.
We
are all part of a network of relationships that influences us. We are all
connected, indispensable to one another and to each of our individual stories.
Dr.
King was a giant who touched the lives of millions. As we honor him, let’s also
honor those who traveled with him on his journey. And remember the next chapter
in history will be written by, and with, all of us.
Svante Myrick is the president of People for the American Way and a former mayor of Ithaca, New York. This op-ed was distributed by OtherWords.org.