My mom used to be a dancer, so I always wanted to be like her

When Tate McRae said, “My mom used to be a dancer, so I always wanted to be like her growing up,” she spoke not only of admiration but of the sacred inheritance of inspiration — the way one soul’s light kindles another’s flame. In her words lies a truth as old as the dawn of humankind: that we are shaped by those who came before us, and the rhythm of our lives often echoes the rhythm of their own. What McRae reveals is not merely the story of a girl who wished to imitate her mother, but of a legacy passed through movement, passion, and love. The dance becomes both art and ancestry — a way of remembering who we are by honoring where we came from.

In the world of the ancients, it was believed that art was divine inheritance. The Greeks told of the Muses, daughters of memory and spirit, who passed their gifts to mortals so that beauty might endure through generations. McRae’s mother, a dancer, became such a muse — not of mythology, but of flesh and blood. Through her grace and movement, she taught her daughter that the body could speak without words, that emotion could become motion, that discipline could be poetry. The child watched, and the heart remembered. Thus, before Tate McRae ever danced for an audience, she was already dancing in the shadow and light of her mother’s love.

To desire to be like one’s parent is among the oldest instincts of humankind. It is the admiration that births identity, the first echo of aspiration within a child’s soul. But it is also a delicate longing, for it asks: can I carry the beauty I witnessed? Can I honor the one who shaped me without losing myself? Many who walk this path must learn what McRae surely discovered — that in emulating the beloved, we find our own reflection. The goal is not to become the same, but to let the same flame burn anew in another form.

Consider the story of Artemisia Gentileschi, the Baroque painter who followed in the footsteps of her father, Orazio Gentileschi, a master of his craft. She watched his brush, learned his methods, and for a time, painted beneath his name. But soon, her own genius emerged — fierce, emotional, revolutionary. What began as imitation became transcendence. So too with Tate McRae: what began as a daughter’s wish to be like her mother blossomed into an artist’s destiny to move the world with her own rhythm. The lineage of artistry is not a chain — it is a river that flows forward, carrying the essence of its source while finding new paths through the land.

In McRae’s quote, there is tenderness, but also strength. The mother-daughter bond is both emotional and symbolic — it speaks to the eternal exchange between generations. A mother, once a dancer, gives the world her gift once more through her child. In this, we see the great cycle of creation: the teacher becomes the memory, the student becomes the living continuation of that dream. Through the body and its movements, McRae carries her mother’s spirit — every step a reminder that legacy is not what is told, but what is lived.

Yet beyond admiration, there lies another lesson: the importance of role models, especially those grounded in love and authenticity. A parent who lives their passion gives a child permission to dream. And a child who follows that vision does not merely continue a tradition — they renew it, proving that the beauty of one generation does not fade, but evolves. The true gift of a parent is not merely instruction, but inspiration — the quiet showing of what a life of devotion looks like.

So, O listener, take heed of this truth: to want to be like another is not weakness, but reverence. Let admiration be your compass, but let your own soul be your destination. Learn from those who came before you — their grace, their discipline, their light — and then add your own fire to the lineage of dreams. Whether your parent danced, painted, built, or healed, you carry their spirit in your blood. Do not let it fade. Instead, make it sing again through your own hands and heart.

Thus, let this teaching be written in your memory: what we inherit through love is never lost. Like Tate McRae, who dances not just as herself but as the continuation of her mother’s motion, each of us is the living rhythm of those who raised us. Move boldly in that rhythm, and let the world see — through you — the beauty that began long before you were born.