In the Dominican Republic, my mom and I lived in this little tiny

The words of Maika Monroe, “In the Dominican Republic, my mom and I lived in this little tiny town called Cabarete, which is very poor,” carry within them the echo of humility, endurance, and the quiet power of beginnings. Though spoken softly, they resound like an ancient hymn — a reminder that greatness is often born not in abundance, but in simplicity. In these words, we see not only a memory of poverty, but the seed of gratitude — a reverence for the place and the struggle that shaped the soul. For Cabarete, though small and poor, became the cradle of strength and resilience that would one day carry her into the world.

To speak of a small town is to speak of the heart of humanity — the places where life is raw, where people labor not for luxury, but for survival and love. In such lands, the lessons of endurance are written not in books, but in the faces of mothers, in the hands of workers, in the laughter of children who make joy out of nothing. Maika’s words are not filled with sorrow, but with reverence; she does not speak of deprivation as curse, but as foundation. For those who are raised in scarcity often grow rich in spirit, learning early that worth does not come from possessions, but from perseverance.

The ancients understood this truth well. They taught that hardship is the forge of character, and that the soul is strengthened not in comfort, but in struggle. The philosopher Epictetus, himself born a slave, said that a person’s greatness lies not in what they possess, but in how they respond to what fate delivers. The poor town of Cabarete, then, becomes not a mark of limitation, but a symbol of transformation — the humble beginning that teaches one to see beauty where others see emptiness, to build dreams from dust and sea wind. In this way, poverty is not merely the absence of wealth, but the presence of resilience.

Consider the story of Oprah Winfrey, who was born into poverty in rural Mississippi. Like Maika, her childhood was shaped by hardship and a single mother’s determination. Yet from those humble roots grew a strength unshakable — a will that turned adversity into vision, and vision into legacy. Such stories remind us that what seems small in the eyes of the world can be vast in meaning. For it is not the size of one’s town or wealth that determines destiny, but the size of one’s heart, the depth of one’s resolve, and the courage to believe that life can be remade.

Maika’s memory also honors the sacred bond between mother and child. In those modest surroundings, her mother became both guardian and guide — the unyielding light in the midst of struggle. The ancients would have likened such mothers to warriors of the hearth, protectors of hope. When Maika speaks of living in that “tiny town,” it is not merely the geography she recalls, but the love that sustained her there. For even in the poorest places, when love abides, the spirit is rich. A mother’s devotion can make a hut feel like a palace, and a shared hardship can become a shared strength.

Her words also reveal the quiet wisdom of remembrance. Many, once lifted by success, forget the soil from which they grew. But Maika Monroe does not speak with shame; she speaks with gratitude. To remember one’s humble beginnings is to stay grounded, to honor the journey rather than the destination. The ancients taught that to forget one’s origins is to lose one’s soul, for humility is the guardian of wisdom. The one who remembers where they came from will never lose their way, no matter how high they rise.

The lesson, then, is clear: do not despise humble beginnings. Whether you come from a small town, a struggling home, or a time of hardship, know that such beginnings are sacred. They carve endurance into your bones and gratitude into your heart. They remind you that joy does not come from wealth, but from purpose; not from ease, but from effort. Take pride in your origins, for they are the proof of your becoming.

So, my children of tomorrow, remember this: the world’s riches fade, but character endures. If life gives you a small place to start, fill it with big dreams. If you are poor in possessions, be rich in spirit. Love deeply, work fiercely, and never forget the hands that lifted you when the world offered nothing. For as Maika Monroe teaches through her memory of Cabarete, even the poorest soil can grow a soul that shines — and from the humblest of beginnings can rise a story that inspires generations.