Close your eyes and imagine America. What did you see? I guess it depends on who you are, but when I close my eyes, a very specific image immediately comes to mind. It’s a black and white photo that dates back to before my time, yet it’s embedded in my family’s history and mythological landscape. Profile of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., with a quiet smile on his face, his right arm raised to the sky to meet the obelisk of the Washington Monument in the background. Behind him, the National Mall’s reflecting pool was crowded with people. King delivering his "I Have a Dream" speech during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom on August 28, 1963.

Zoom out. We can't see the chaos of that moment in the photo, nor the two centuries of history that made it so necessary, but the photo clearly captures the hope that America could have, and the urge to come together to pursue a dream.

Zoom in and see. Some 250,000 people were on site that day, traveling by plane, train, bus and walking thousands of miles. These include civil rights leaders and legends such as Rosa Parks, as well as celebrities such as Jackie Robinson, James Baldwin and Paul Newman. There is music during the parade. Marian Anderson, Mahalia Jackson, Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, Peter, Paul and Mary, Odetta and the Free Singers sang spirituals, freedom songs and folk songs, and the crowd sang along. As a musician who cares deeply about hope, peace, and freedom, I've always thought about how lucky these artists are to be a part of such a proud moment in our history.

But maybe I’m looking at it through rose-tinted glasses. One night I listened to an interview with Rita Moreno, who was standing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, only about 10 feet away from Dr. King. She attended the parade because Harry Belafonte invited her, and it was an unforgettable experience that changed her life. But, she said, she was afraid to participate. She just won an Academy Award for playing Anita in the film west side story —The first Latino to win an Oscar. Participating in the march could have severe career repercussions; she feared she would never work again and that she would be blacklisted from Hollywood. She feared the physical violence that could easily have occurred that day. But, in her own words: "At a certain point in life, one has to take responsibility...one has to take responsibility for the situation." She faced her fears and showed up.

American artists stood out amid all the troubles and turmoil of the 20th century. great american alto marian anderson In 1939, Billie Holiday gave a historic concert to an audience on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, the same year she first sang and recorded "strange fruit". Paul Robeson, Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie face Ku Klux Klan attack at concert Ten years later at the Civil Rights Convention in Peekskill, New York. American musician from hazel scott Aaron Copeland faced personal and professional dangers from the McCarthy-era blacklist. Joan Baez was just 22 when she led the crowd in singing "We Shall Overcome" at the March on Washington. Just three weeks later, Ku Klux Klan members in Birmingham, Alabama, bombed the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, killing four young girls—a horrific act of violence that inspired Nina Simone to write a song The inspiration for "Mississippi God."

Now it's all history, documented in photos, film clips and audio recordings, and has acquired the luster of legend. But at the time, there was nothing photogenic about showing up. It is an act of resistance and courage that requires facing reality and present danger. Judy Collins told me about a treacherous encounter she had on a dark country road while registering voters in Mississippi in 1964. Chatting with pianist and producer Robert Glasper, He said he heard from Harry Belafonte about the threats he faced during the course of his extraordinary activities. You can listen to Pete Seeger for yourself primary account Violence at a 1949 Peekskill concert.

If Martin Luther King had not been murdered in the prime of his life, he would have been 96 years old today. Imagine what an alternate reality version of America would look like. So much violence and hatred has occurred since that hopeful August day in 1963—so many reasons to give up hope altogether. As a musician who considers the flow of history, I realize that now it is my turn to show up, ready and willing to join that generation, including my own parents, in pursuing the dream that Dr. King fought for. I don’t know what that means exactly—maybe facing your own fears, maybe more. But I do know that it means holding on to my love for American music and harnessing its power to unite us when nothing else seems to.

Tonight, some of my musician friends are gathering in New York for what we're calling an "American Reflection," honoring Dr. King's birthday by focusing hope and love, resistance and perseverance. We will play and sing old songs and new songs, remembering the past and thinking about the present. Martin Luther King loved music and believed in the power of music. That day, on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, he used music as a metaphor for his vision of America: “transforming the cacophony of our nation’s cacophony into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.” I tried to focus on that beautiful Vision. Even though it may be hard to see right now, I keep my eyes open.