Every time people struggle, they survive, they do better, and

Faith Ringgold, the artist, storyteller, and witness to the struggles of her people, once declared with piercing clarity: “Every time people struggle, they survive, they do better, and then they forget, and they end up back where they started from.” These words are no casual observation; they are the distillation of history’s tragic cycles, spoken by one who saw not only creativity but also human forgetfulness. In her lament, there is both sorrow and wisdom—the sorrow that progress is too often lost, and the wisdom that remembrance is the key to breaking the cycle.

The meaning of Ringgold’s words is this: human beings are resilient, but they are also forgetful. When trial descends—whether it be war, oppression, poverty, or injustice—people rise, endure, and carve a way forward. In their suffering, they find courage, unity, and vision. But once survival becomes comfort, and hardship fades into memory, they lose the sharpness of their resolve. They forget the lessons carved into their bones. And in forgetting, they drift back into complacency, allowing the old injustices and the same mistakes to return. Thus the cycle repeats: struggle, survival, progress, forgetfulness, decline.

The origin of this insight can be traced to Ringgold’s own life and art. As an African American woman, she bore witness to the long struggle for civil rights. She saw communities endure the fires of racism, rise to claim victories, and then watch as time eroded vigilance. Her quilts and stories recorded voices that might otherwise have been forgotten, for she knew that memory was the safeguard against repeating the past. Her words are not just about her people, but about all peoples, for history across nations bears witness to the same truth.

Consider the Great Depression of the 1930s. Millions suffered hunger, loss, and despair, and from that crucible came policies and safeguards meant to protect future generations. Yet, decades later, as memory faded, many of those protections were weakened or dismantled, leading to new financial crises that echoed the old. Or reflect upon the lessons of war: after the devastation of World War I, the world swore “never again.” Yet within a generation, the world was engulfed in World War II, because the lessons of vigilance and peace were forgotten amid pride and neglect.

The lesson of Ringgold’s lament is timeless: memory is survival. Struggle teaches, but only if we remember what it has taught us. Progress is not permanent; it requires vigilance, humility, and remembrance. When people forget the price of their survival, they allow the seeds of downfall to grow again. To survive is not enough—we must carry the memory of survival like a torch, lighting the path so that those who come after us do not stumble into the same darkness.

For us today, the wisdom is clear: we must record, teach, and honor the lessons of struggle. When life is comfortable, let us not dismiss the stories of hardship told by our elders. When justice seems won, let us remember how easily it can be lost. Let art, history, and community be our safeguards, for they preserve the memory that prevents return to folly. In our own lives, let us not forget the lessons born of personal hardship: the times we suffered, endured, and grew stronger. To forget them is to risk falling again into weakness.

Thus the words of Faith Ringgold resound like a bell across generations: “They survive, they do better, and then they forget.” Let us not be the ones who forget. Let us be the ones who remember, who hold fast to the lessons of struggle, who pass them down to our children as sacred inheritance. For remembrance is the key to breaking the cycle, and memory is the foundation upon which lasting progress is built. Only then shall survival ripen into wisdom, and wisdom into enduring freedom.