The auditorium is packed to its capacity with people awaiting the ballet production. Suddenly the lights go down and the ballerinas begin to take the stage. One by one they file out and take their places. Before I know it, I am confidently stepping onto the stage as an African American principal dancer. This is an achievement that was unheard of until June 30, 2015 when Misty Copeland became the first black principal dancer for the American Ballet Theatre. Although she got her start later than usual, she overcame all obstacles and reached this outstanding title. I am influenced by Copeland because we both got our start in our respective fields in similar ways. Throughout all of her hard times, Copeland persevered and came out on top, which is something I strive for.
      

Undisciplined. Slacker. Lazy. These could all be used to describe me... at least before I read about Copeland. For years, I attended dance class and performed in countless recitals and competitions, but I was always just the lanky black girl in the back row. I was constantly told that black people were not built to be classical dancers, the maturity in my dancing did not match my age, and maybe I should pursue something else. Eventually I began to believe it. I quit trying in technique classes, I stopped trying to prove myself on stage, I even frequently attempted to skip class. I was the slacker of my team and it was obvious. I did not care about anything dance related, until competition auditions came around. I wanted to be considered for a ballet routine, but my instructor was not shy about telling me I did not match the picture she saw in her head. I asked her if I could still audition and try to persuade her decision. Her exact words were, "You can try, but you won't succeed." I left dance that night determined to change her mind. I studied ballet exercises, watched full length ballets, and even researched ballerinas to be inspired by; that's when I found her.
      

As I scanned through articles about countless ballerinas, I caught a glimpse of an African American woman with the most chiseled muscles I had ever seen. The name Misty Copeland sounded familiar to me so I opened up a second browser to google her. I read article after article, becoming obsessed with her life story. I was immediately inspired; although she started dancing at the age of 13 and did not have what is considered a "dancer's body", she put in the effort to be the best. In that moment I knew, I wanted to do better. I wanted to do more.
       

It was as if a lightbulb clicked on inside of my head. Copeland had been beaten down by other's words, but still became one of the most successful ballerinas in the world. Instead of rising, I proved that other person's words to be right. The following week after the encounter with my instructor, I put in numerous hours of extra practice. I was determined to come out on top by proving myself through my love for dance. I did not end up getting cast in the ballet piece, but afterwards my teacher acknowledged my hard work. She apologized for her unkind words, confided in me that she did think I could be an amazing dancer, and agreed to work with me more on my technical training. I took extra ballet classes, and she even offered me several private lessons. To this day, I am still improving my dancing.
       

If I had not come across that picture of Copeland, I do not believe I would have regained my passion for dance. She taught me that the only opinion that matters of me is my own, and remembering that is the only way I will begin to see improvement. I now understand that I have to take the comments that others make about my ability with a grain of salt in order to continue bettering myself. I can now change that “I can try, but I won’t succeed” to “I can try, and I will succeed.”