When it came to my childhood - growing up in a single-parent

In the powerful and heartfelt words of Misty Copeland, we hear the song of perseverance, sung by one who has risen from hardship into glory: “When it came to my childhood — growing up in a single-parent home, often struggling financially — my mother definitely instilled in me and my siblings this strength, this will, to just continue to survive and succeed.” Within this statement lies not only the story of one family, but the timeless story of endurance — of the human spirit that refuses to bow, even when the world seems unyielding. It is a tale as ancient as civilization itself, where strength is not born in comfort, but in struggle, and where the guiding force of a mother’s love becomes the anchor of survival.

Misty Copeland, the first African American woman to become a principal dancer in the American Ballet Theatre, did not begin her journey in grand studios or gilded halls. She was born into modest means, raised by a mother who bore the heavy burden of single parenthood. Yet within the confines of hardship, her mother sowed something sacred — the will to rise. In her quote, Misty does not speak of wealth, privilege, or opportunity. She speaks of strength — that quiet, invisible power that her mother imparted to her children, the kind of strength that turns obstacles into lessons and survival into victory.

The ancients knew well that greatness is tempered in the fire of adversity. The philosopher Epictetus, born a slave, once said, “Difficulties show what men are.” And so it is with Copeland’s words — they reveal that the true measure of a person is not the abundance they inherit, but the resilience they learn. To “survive and succeed” is not merely to endure, but to transform one’s circumstances into a stepping stone. Her mother, like the mothers of old, became both shield and teacher, imparting not luxury but courage — the kind that teaches one to keep moving even when the path ahead is steep and unseen.

There are echoes of Misty’s story throughout history. Consider Abraham Lincoln, born in poverty in a cabin of rough timber. He, too, grew up without privilege, raised by a stepmother who gave him not riches, but faith in his own mind. Or think of Frederick Douglass, who, though born into slavery, was inspired by his mother’s brief but powerful presence to fight for his freedom and the dignity of others. These figures, like Copeland, rose because they carried within them a legacy of perseverance, a strength born not of ease, but of endurance. It is the same strength that parents through the ages have passed down to their children in whispers and in labor — a strength that says, you will go on.

What Misty Copeland describes is not just survival of the body, but survival of the spirit. Poverty may strip away comfort, but it cannot conquer the will of one who has been taught to endure. The strength her mother gave was not a shield against hardship, but a light that shone through it. This is a strength forged in love — a love that endures fatigue, hunger, and uncertainty, yet still believes in the possibility of beauty. And is that not what Misty herself became? A dancer who embodies grace, born from struggle — proof that the deepest beauty grows from the hardest soil.

In her quote, Copeland also honors the power of mothers, those unseen architects of resilience who shape the future not with wealth, but with will. The ancients worshipped goddesses like Demeter, the mother who wept and persevered through loss, nurturing the earth itself. In every age, it is the mother who endures silently so her children may rise. Misty’s mother, too, is such a figure — an everyday goddess, teaching her children that success is not given, but earned through persistence, faith, and courage.

The lesson, then, is clear: strength is not born from abundance, but from adversity transformed by love. Let no one despise their humble beginnings, for within them lies the seed of greatness. Like Misty Copeland, learn to see hardship not as punishment, but as preparation. When life is difficult, remember the hands that lifted you, the voices that urged you onward, the examples that proved survival is possible. Honor those who gave you resilience, for they gave you more than comfort — they gave you the power to shape your destiny.

So, dear listener, when you face the storms of your own journey, remember the wisdom of Misty Copeland: that strength is inherited not through bloodline or fortune, but through the courage of those who came before you. If you were taught to keep going when the world said stop, then you have already inherited the greatest gift. Let that strength guide you — to survive, to succeed, and to shine so that others may see what the will of love can create.