The dictionary defines martyr as "a witness, a person who chooses to adhere and die rather than abandon or deny his and her faith, belief and principles." A martyr is a person who endures pain or misery for a long time.

Many of us, some time in our lives, feel as if we have the right to be called martyrs such as a parent who is up all night with a crying baby.

A martyr is, also, an icon—someone revered for having lived a worthy life, one who sacrifices and suffers for others.

Millions of people believe that Martin Luther King, Jr. is a martyr. A substantial number, particularly American, will not agree.

I first heard of King from my sister, Jeralyn. She and I had gone to South Carolina to visit our father during a summer break. Jeralyn had enrolled in Spelman College for Women in Atlanta the year after King matriculated at Morehouse College for Men, also in Atlanta. Both colleges had been founded after the Civil War to educate former slaves and freeborn youths of color.

My sister showed me books she had been reading. She told me of Baha’ullah, the founder of the Bahai faith, Paramahansa Yogananda and the Self-Realization Fellowship, Jean Paul Sartre, Krisnamurti, exotic names and issues of which I had heard nothing. I was impressed.

She spoke of her friends--from Morehouse--across the street. They had occasional joint seminars and tried out new thinking as they lounged on campus. My sister, like M.L.—as he was called—was among the precocious ones, beginning college at 15, being noticed and encouraged by professor and mentors.

I learned that M.L. was the son of the prominent minister of Ebenezer Baptist Church, a congregation of middle-class Negro Atlantans. It was a favorite church for students because of intellectually stimulating sermons and chances to view and parade before attractive young ladies and men.

M. L. was a member of what was known as the “Colored or Negro Bourgeoisie.” His mother had attended the Piney Woods School in Mississippi. M.L. and his cohorts were reared to be well-spoken, well-mannered and studious. His life was an equivalent of the “silver spoon.” Parishioners, especially the women, treated their ministers’ children like royalty, showering them with attention, affection and gifts.

My sister began dating a fellow named Bill. During a visit to Atlanta I was introduced to Bill’s roommate, a quiet guy who made absolutely no impression, He was M. L. King, Jr. who was at that time, simply, another child of the “talented tenth,” being groomed and expected to contribute his life to the "uplift of our people"; as were we all, as had our parents and grandparents—those fortunate enough to attend college. My sister and her friends did not know that their shy friend was tagged for greatness. He was a bookworm; preparing to enter law or medicine.

These post Second World War II Negro college graduates produced many achievers and activists. After graduation, back in Chicago, six years later, the Montgomery Bus boycott began. My sister and I maintained friendships with the likes of Morehouse men Lerone Bennett, author of Before the Mayflower, Bob Johnson, editor of Jet, and a circle of the Southside upwardly mobile.

An aside: It’s interesting how official history gets so much “wrong.” Articles and textbooks tell us that Rosa Parks, the ignition for the Montgomery Boycott, was an elderly domestic worker. Mrs. Parks was 44 years old, the secretary for the local NAACP, a seamstress, a known, respected woman in the community. Mrs. Parks has written that she was not tired from working in “white peoples’ kitchen.” She said, “The only tired I was, was tired of giving in.”

By 1958, nationally known, Martin Luther King had become a force for our increasing pride. The summer of 1958, he was 29 years old. He was the featured speaker for the 125th anniversary of our congregation, First Presbyterian Church of Chicago. After his speech I talked with King. He was soft-spoken, “cool.” He gave no hint of the power of his mind and personality. I told him I was Jeralyn Young’s sister. He held my hand warmly, perhaps glad to have a moment to relax from his public persona. We spoke of ordinary things. He asked if I knew where his roommate Bill was, that he’d lost touch with him. I told him I’d heard that Bill was a Sociologist with the Federal Prison System.

I was an activist, on protest lines, primarily for “open housing” and ecumenical groups. Vietnam was not yet an issue. Nuclear weaponry was. I wanted to be a part of the action as it heated up, but I did not go back south. I missed the 1963 March on Washington because I was pregnant with my son, Roger, who was born August fourth.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in1964, during a time he was in the hospital for exhaustion. His last visit to Chicago was to march for Open Housing. Mayor Daley publicly, laughingly, called him “Martin Luther Coon” and encouraged his constituents to ridicule and throw missiles as we marched in a hostile, segregated neighborhood. The “protestors” were against Americans who wanted to buy and rent homes where they could afford. The mob included large numbers of descendants of immigrants who escaped the potato famine and serfdom in Ireland 100 years previous, and more recent immigrants to the US than most of us trying to walk down the street.

I marveled at the fortitude of the quiet, frightened man -- who had been the darling of his family and community, his teachers and mentors, who was now receiving the hatred and invective of Americans who could not see a human being like them --who were unable to recognize people who were compassionate and admired a man who lived high principles and commitment to people, peace, love and justice.

Martin Luther King, Jr., “M L,” has been gone from the earthly plane for 33 years -- only six years less than he lived. After much effort and much resistance we mark one day each year to remind us of his life and legacy.

A legacy is a valued bequest passed on to future generations to be held with the same honor. We are the future, just as we are the past and the present. Our children and those who come after them are King’s extension into the unknown future.

With every death there is personal loss to family and friends. For a martyr the remorse and anguish transcend the personal. Each of us is proportionately diminished by the loss of one who gives everything. Between 1954 and 1964, a mere decade, an unassuming, nondescript man was among us, again.

M.L. was a regular human whom fate chose for irregularity and who accepted his irregularity.

Dr. King was a superb organizer -- a charismatic, grounded in community and elevated by his evolving philosophy. He gave impetus and momentum to the on-going dream of demos -- the sovereignty of the people.

Human beings create heroes, just as we create the "gods we worship on Mount Olympus or heaven." Martin Luther King, Jr. was, for a nanosecond in existence, an asterisk in history. Like all martyrs, heroes and icons, he is a symbol, a reflection of our inner being, our soul or spirit if you wish. The formula for King’s life was ability and inspiration divided by race and limited access.

The cosmos is both sides of a continuum. We can call these tendencies positive and negative, revolutionary and conservative, or “good” and ‘bad.” The social-psychological-historical effects of the life of Martin Luther King, Jr. and those who labored and fought with him are economic, political and existential survival. Our future may be acceptance or denial of his vision and example.

I’ve heard comments such as, “I’m tired of hearing black this, black that, preferences, nothing but negativity. Why don’t they stop whining. My family never owned slaves. I don’t owe them a thing. Get over it. Get a job, like me.” Today, 33 percent, one in every three males of African heritage in the prime of their lives is incarcerated, on parole or on probation and without a high school diploma. Three percent of Americans of African heritage works in high-tech industry -- The New Economy. I can’t agree that this disproportion is genetic or laziness. I’ve taught too many students to accept such “reasoning.”

I propose five positive aspects of King’s legacy to contemplate a possible future:

1. Growing diversity in the nation and the world. King worked with Cesar Chavez, native peoples, poverty-burdened whites. Diversity increasingly includes southern hemispheric people: South America, Africa and Southern Asia. Cast your mind forward in those directions.

2. His awakening to the economic realities that determine survival and success, particularly for “colonized” people. Most people refuse to comprehend this essential feature and the revolutionary changes suggested by that recognition. According to many on my side of the human community, the reason Dr. King was killed was that he moved beyond the specific world of Americans of African heritage. He was getting out of his place. Not a one of us believes that a lone, non-political James Earl Ray was responsible for his assassination.

3. He grasped the multi-ethnic, multi-complexity, the interrelatedness of the entire planet. With its cynical underpinnings, the Vietnam War was another instance of “getting out of his place.” How dare that “uppity nigger.” How many are willing to be "uppity"?

4. An increasing number of middle and upper-middle class people of color. The numbers of elected officials, exemplified by the designated Black Caucus and local inclusiveness.

5. King energized the dormant feminist movement.