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Last year in Memphis, I stood, squinting into the sun, at the balcony of the Lorraine Motel where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was gunned to death. I wasn’t alive to see Dr. King speak, experience his movement, or hear his words firsthand, but I instantly felt myself sobbing. In that very spot, we lost one of the great, brave, unifying voices of our nation’s history–someone who dared to dream and hope, speak loudly with restraint, believe in people’s ability to change the way we think and act. King’s very existence allowed us all to be better than ourselves. In life and in death, King was that change.
Does it really “take a president,” Hillary?