In this episode of Good Inside with Dr. Becky, ballet dancer Misty Copeland shares how a childhood marked by instability, poverty, and frequent relocations led her to find refuge in ballet's structured environment at age thirteen. She discusses how the discipline of classical ballet provided the predictability and safety absent from her early life, while also revealing the racial discrimination she faced as a Black dancer in an art form with deeply entrenched aesthetic standards.
The conversation explores the transformative power of being "seen" by mentors who asked meaningful questions and believed in Misty's potential. Dr. Becky and Misty draw connections between ballet's foundation and parenting, discussing how both require structure as a base while allowing room for improvisation and authenticity. Misty also reflects on her approach to raising her son, consciously breaking cycles from her own upbringing by prioritizing stability, open affection, and an equitable partnership with her husband.

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Misty Copeland's early life was marked by profound instability and poverty. Born in Kansas City, Missouri, she moved to Los Angeles at age two, beginning a chaotic childhood with her mother's five marriages, frequent relocations, and eventually living in a motel room with five siblings by age thirteen. She describes herself as a "mute child" lacking physical and emotional nourishment, with meals rarely at a table and constant uncertainty about basic needs. This adversity, however, prepared her to face demanding environments without being daunted by new challenges.
Ballet became Misty's sanctuary when she started at age thirteen—unusually late for a professional career. After auditioning for her middle school dance team and becoming captain despite no formal training, she was drawn to ballet's structure and predictability. The studio offered her first experience of safety, community, and belonging, where the rigor felt nurturing rather than stifling. Her severe childhood migraines dissolved in ballet's ordered environment.
Starting late meant training with younger children and compensating through visual learning and improvisation rather than muscle memory. She joined American Ballet Theatre after only four years of training, relying on improvisational skills and adaptation to overcome her nontraditional foundation—skills that ultimately prepared her for professional demands.
Misty's first ballet teacher, Cindy Bradley, recognized her need for stability and invited her to live with her family for three years. This provided consistent meals, emotional support, and—crucially—genuine interest in Misty's thoughts and feelings. Cindy regularly asked about her day, ballet experiences, and aspirations, making Misty feel valued for the first time and cultivating her self-awareness and critical thinking.
Misty's experiences reveal how classical ballet's standards have enabled ongoing racial discrimination. She recalls learning about George Balanchine's aesthetic ideal—inspired by 1960s supermodels—emphasizing long limbs, a tiny head, and skin "the color of a freshly peeled apple." This entrenched aesthetic created exclusionary barriers for Black dancers, despite Misty matching the physical proportions otherwise considered ideal.
She faced direct discrimination, including being instructed to wear makeup that made her look "ashy" during a Giselle tour and being excluded from a televised Swan Lake filming despite performing as first cast nightly. Early in her career, she was relegated to contemporary works while being kept from classical ballets considered the art form's epitome.
Misty spent her first decade at American Ballet Theatre as the only Black woman among over ninety dancers. While leadership considered her "good enough" to enter ABT, they questioned her worthiness for advancement to soloist or principal dancer roles.
Through mentorship from Cindy and ballerina Raven Wilkinson—one of the first Black dancers in a major company—Misty learned to advocate constructively. She directly addressed the artistic director with her concerns, strengthening their relationship and earning new opportunities. After her promotion to soloist, she gained confidence to speak out more boldly, realizing her success mattered for changing ballet's future and paving the way for greater inclusion.
Misty explains that classical ballet's rigid structure—the same daily routine of plies, tendus, and degages, with timeless choreography performed precisely—offered her comfort and predictability. Yet her early years provided little true creative freedom beyond disciplined repetition.
Her collaboration with Prince marked a transformative moment. For the first time, she was called to improvise without preset choreography, creating movement spontaneously on stage. This experience deeply transformed her artistic expression and confidence, helping her return to ballet with new understanding of creativity and risk-taking.
Misty draws parallels between ballet's foundation and parenting, noting that children, like dancers, crave stability and consistency. However, parenting also requires improvisation to handle unpredictable challenges not covered in any manual. Becky Kennedy echoes this philosophy, celebrating parents who adapt general advice to their unique family situations as examples of "freedom within the form." Both agree that whether in ballet or parenting, structure provides the essential foundation, but genuine artistry comes from the courage to improvise authentically within that framework.
Becky Kennedy highlights the significance of asking children meaningful questions that show interest in their thoughts and perspectives. She notes that many children grow up answering primarily evaluative questions—"How did you do on this test?"—focused on outcomes and comparisons, communicating that value may be tied to performance rather than intrinsic worth. In contrast, exploratory questions stem from an assumption of inherent worth and agency.
Misty describes the profound impact of being "seen" by mentors. When Cindy Bradley first met her, she said, "I think you're a prodigy. I think this is something you could do professionally." Living with Cindy's family, Misty was regularly asked about her thoughts, feelings, and which roles she'd want in ballets—novel experiences that prompted critical thinking and confidence. This unwavering belief empowered Misty to self-advocate in hostile settings.
Both Kennedy and Copeland agree that people of all ages need others who can reflect their potential and value back to them. Having someone affirm our capabilities and ask meaningful questions can be the difference between simply getting by and thriving.
Misty's approach to parenting her four-year-old son Jackson reflects a deliberate break from her own upbringing. She prioritizes creating stability through routines like preparing his favorite hollow French toast each morning, emphasizing that consistency and love are the most important foundations. While she initially imagined herself as strict, she leans toward a softer style, crediting her husband for balancing her approach in their true partnership.
She observes that unlike their mother's pattern of instability, she and her siblings consciously sought safe, stable relationships before starting families. Misty and her husband were together fifteen years before marrying, reflecting this dedication to foundation and security.
Misty intentionally models an equitable partnership for Jackson, with flexible roles where both parents contribute in varying ways. Her ultimate goal is for Jackson to experience love and stability while learning resilience through age-appropriate challenges—not through the trauma, poverty, and food insecurity that shaped her childhood.
Open affection and vulnerability are central to Misty's relationship with Jackson, elements she didn't experience in her own childhood. She's proud to see him reflect this emotional openness. However, she acknowledges the challenge of balancing empowerment with boundary-setting—her confident, independent son sometimes pushes back against authority, requiring her to reassert limits while maintaining his secure attachment and celebrating his agency.
1-Page Summary
Misty Copeland’s early years are marked by deep instability and poverty. Born in Kansas City, Missouri, she moves to Los Angeles at age two after her mother’s second divorce. This marks the start of a chaotic childhood: her mother marries five times, leading to frequent relocations and changing schools. By thirteen, Misty lives in a motel room with her five siblings, their lives defined by uncertainty—never knowing if there will be food, where they will sleep next, or if there even will be a stable roof over their heads.
Neglect also shapes Misty’s home life. She describes herself as a “mute child” lacking interaction and nourishment, both physical and emotional. Meals rarely happen at a table; instead, she and her siblings scrounge for coins to survive, often eating instant noodles. The lack of adult presence or validation means Misty rarely experiences anyone taking interest in her thoughts, feelings, or daily life. Instead, she exists in a state of constant survival mode, fending for herself and becoming well-acquainted with hardship from an early age. This conditioning leaves her undaunted by new challenges, as adversity becomes a norm and prepares her to face demanding environments later in life.
Misty’s craving for structure and stability draws her to ballet at age 13, an unusually late start for a future professional dancer. She is initially drawn to dance after auditioning for her middle school's dance team, becoming captain despite having no formal training.
The ballet studio and stage become Misty’s first real sanctuaries. She experiences safety and community for the first time—the studio gives her a predictable environment, daily routines, and a sense of belonging. She does not feel subject to hierarchy among other students; instead, she feels like part of a community where her potential and dreams are recognized. The stage, often viewed as intimidating by others, feels like a protected space for Misty. While performing, she is liberated, in control, and shielded from criticism, feeling only encouragement from the audience.
Misty finds ballet’s structure and rigor to be nurturing rather than stifling. In the studio, her body finally has a chance to relax, her mind to trust, and for the first time, she feels emotionally and physically nourished. She recalls that severe migraines from her stressful childhood dissolve when she immerses herself in the order and music of ballet, providing her stress relief and a new sense of calm.
Beginning ballet at 13 places Misty in classes with much younger children, making her feel “ancient.” She compensates for her late start by relying on strong visual learning—she rapidly mimics movements she sees but, lacking years of muscle memory, finds that some technical details don’t always “stick.” Misty often improvises and adapts, learning by watching rather than through deeply ingrained physical habits.
Her nontraditional training continues even as she joins the American Ballet Theatre after only four years of ballet—a remarkably short amount of time for a professional career. She relies heavily on her improvisational skills, adapting constantly, and overcoming the lack of technical foundation with resilience and quick study. This creative flexibility, born from necessity, becomes a strength that prepares her for the unpredictability and demands of a professional ballet career.
Childhood Adversity and Ballet as a Safe Haven
Misty Copeland’s experiences reveal how classical ballet’s standards, rooted in historical preferences and aesthetics, have enabled ongoing racial discrimination, exclusion, and personal challenges for Black dancers.
Misty Copeland recalls her teacher reading from a ballerina trained under George Balanchine, the founder of New York City Ballet, who set a new standard for the physical “ideal” of a ballerina. Inspired by 1960s and 70s supermodels like Twiggy, Balanchine envisioned long legs, long feet, long arms, a tiny head, long neck, and importantly, skin “the color of a freshly peeled apple.” Misty’s teacher listed all these attributes, except for the skin color, which was eventually revealed as a barrier. Balanchine’s aesthetic set a standard where, to be in the “white ballets,” a dancer needed to have fair skin and an almost otherworldly appearance, creating exclusionary barriers for Black dancers.
This entrenched aesthetic persists, making inclusion difficult for Black dancers. Misty explains that, despite her physical proportions matching the ideal, her skin color was treated as a disqualifying difference that became more apparent over time.
Copeland describes being instructed to lighten her skin to match the rest of the corps de ballet for classic productions. On tour, during a performance of Giselle, she and others were told to wear the same pancake makeup color. For Misty, this did not match her skin and made her look “ashy,” leaving her feeling invisible yet hyper-visible—a “crushed” sense of soul and belonging. The standard makeup prescribed for lighter-skinned dancers highlighted how ballet’s conventions failed to accommodate her presence onstage.
Despite performing as first cast nightly in Swan Lake and La Bayadere, where uniformity and fair skin are prized, Misty was excluded from a televised Swan Lake filming. Even though she excelled in nightly performances and was the company’s first cast, leadership removed her specifically in acts featuring the corps in unison—moments defined by the expectation of visual sameness. This exclusion was devastating, amplifying the message that she could work in the shadows but not be seen on record.
In her early career, Misty found herself performing mostly contemporary works, which offered more space for diversity, while being kept from classical ballets which are considered the epitome of the art form.
Misty Copeland spent her first decade at American Ballet Theatre (ABT) as the only Black woman among more than 90 dancers. She recalls, as early as the summer intensive programs, being the only Black girl in her class—a pattern that continued as she moved up to the professional company, deepening her sense of isolation.
Misty notes that while she was considered “good enough” to enter ABT, leadership questioned her suitability for greater roles—to become part of ballet’s legacy and history as a soloist or principal dancer. This questioning limited her opportunities to perform the classical works most associated with ballet’s highest accomplishments.
Racism and Discrimination in Classical Ballet
Misty Copeland explains that she was drawn to classical ballet because of its need for consistency and stability. Each day at the American Ballet Theatre started with the same routine—plies, tendus, and degages in a set sequence—which offered her comfort and predictability. Ballet demands that dancers perform timeless choreography precisely, without deviation or personal interpretation, maintaining the integrity of the art form. Yet, Misty notes there is still a mix of consistency and creativity in ballet; the dancer must balance structure and expression within the established framework.
Despite this subtle space for personal artistry, Misty’s early years in ballet offered little true creative freedom. The focus remained on disciplined repetition and performing choreography exactly as it was taught.
Misty recounts that her collaboration with Prince marked a pivotal moment in her artistic journey. For the first time, she was called to improvise—there were no preset steps or choreography. Instead, Prince challenged her to create movement spontaneously on stage, an entirely new and daunting task for someone whose experience was grounded in classical ballet’s rigid forms.
This experience deeply transformed her artistic expression and self-confidence. Misty describes returning to ballet with a new understanding of what it means to be creative and an artist. After working with Prince, she felt more prepared to adapt, make adjustments on the fly, and embrace artistic risks. Improvisation became a liberating contrast to ballet's demand for accuracy, empowering her to find new forms of self-expression and presence both on stage and off.
Misty draws a parallel between ballet’s foundation of routine and the role of structure in parenting. She notes that, like dancers, children crave the comfort of stability and consistency. Parenting involves establishing routines and boundaries to give children a sense of security, echoing the order she found in ballet.
However, she emphasizes that parenting is also rife with unpredictable challenges, requiring inherent improvisation. Parents must respond to unexpected situations—wh ...
Freedom Within the Form
The experience of truly being seen—having someone recognize and be interested in our inner world, abilities, and perspectives—is transformative, especially for children and those negotiating challenging environments. This is vividly illustrated in the stories and reflections shared by Becky Kennedy and Misty Copeland.
Becky Kennedy highlights the significance of the types of questions adults ask children. She notes that when someone takes the time to wonder about what a child thinks, expresses interest in their day, or asks what role they might want in a performance, it stems from an assumption that the child possesses interesting thoughts and stories worth telling. Such inquiries communicate belief in the child's value, agency, and the worthiness of their perspectives.
Kennedy observes that many children grow up answering primarily evaluative questions from adults, such as “How did you do on this test?” or “What did this person get?” These types of questions are focused on outcomes, achievement, or comparisons to others. They communicate that a child's value may be tied to performance or external validation, not their intrinsic perspective or experiences.
Kennedy stresses that the difference between exploratory and evaluative questions is important. While exploratory questions stem from an assumption of inherent worth and agency, evaluative ones often reflect an assumption that value is conditional—based on comparison, achievement, or how one measures up to others. This underlying message deeply affects how children view themselves and navigate the world.
Misty Copeland describes the profound impact of being truly “seen” by a mentor. Her drill team coach recognized her potential and introduced her to Cindy Bradley, who was proactively searching for diverse students to introduce to ballet. Cindy, upon first seeing Misty, told her, “I think you're a prodigy. I think this is something you could do professionally.” Cindy immediately recognized her natural talent—her strength, flexibility, and proportions suited to ballet—and created an environment where Misty’s abilities were valued.
Misty moved in with Cindy and her family for three years, gaining not only training but a constant sense of support and belief in her.
Living with Cindy, Misty encountered, for the first time, adults regularly asking about her thoughts, feelings, and opinions. This was new for Misty, whose mother, busy with daily survival, did not have time for such interaction. With Cindy and her husband, Misty was asked, “How was your day? What did you do at school? What do you think about that? Which role would you want in this ballet? How would you approach your character?” These questions prompted Misty to think critically, form her own opinions, and develop confidence. Misty describes this as ...
The Power Of Being "Seen"
Misty Copeland’s approach to parenting reflects a deliberate break from the cycles of instability and deprivation she experienced in her own upbringing. Instead, she strives to cultivate stability, love, and resilience in her son Jackson, while modeling partnership and emotional openness.
Parenting her four-year-old son, Misty Copeland prioritizes creating a safe and stable environment. She finds joy in routines like waking Jackson at 7:30 and preparing the hollow French toast he insists on every morning, emphasizing that consistency, stability, and love are the most important foundations for him. Misty initially imagined herself as a strict disciplinarian, likely as a reaction to her own deprived childhood, but finds herself leaning towards a softer, more permissive style. She credits her husband for balancing her approach, describing their parenting as a true partnership where his grounding presence helps her maintain equilibrium.
Reflecting on her upbringing and early family challenges, Misty observes that unlike their mother's repeated instability, she and her siblings consciously chose a different path. Each deliberately sought safe, stable relationships before starting families of their own.
Misty and her husband were together for fifteen years before marrying, showing a dedication to foundation and security. She notes with interest that her siblings have made similar choices, all prioritizing stable partnerships before having children.
Misty is intentional about modeling an equitable partnership for Jackson. She wants him to witness a healthy, balanced relationship where both partners contribute in flexible ways—sometimes she is away working and is the breadwinner, other times her husband takes on that role. Demonstrating this adaptability challenges traditional gender roles and offers Jackson a broader understanding of what a supportive relationship can look like.
Misty’s ultimate parenting aim is for Jackson to experience both love and stability—elements she lacked growing up—while also learning resilience through age-appropriate challenges. She is mindful not to recreate the poverty, food insecurity, or lack of safety that shaped her childhood, but instead asks herself and her husband how they can provide character-building struggles on healthier terms. She wants Jackso ...
Parenting Philosophy and Breaking Cycles
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