During Black History Month/African Heritage Month, Brock Sports and Recreation is publishing open letters from Black student-athletes, sharing their stories, experiences and perspectives in their own words.

I didn't always know what strength looked like. Before trophies, before packed gyms and before anyone ever called me an athlete, strength looked like my mom getting up before the sun and coming home long after it set.

She didn't wear a jersey. She didn't have a crowd cheering her on. But every single day, she showed me what it meant to commit, to sacrifice and to keep going even when quitting would have been easier. She worked tirelessly to feed our family, keep a roof over our heads and make sure we never felt the weight she was carrying. Watching her taught me that resilience isn't loud; it's consistent. It shows up even when you're tired. Especially when you're tired.

I didn't know it then, but she was training me for sport long before I ever stepped onto a court. When things got hard in basketball: early mornings, injuries, losses and self-doubt, I leaned on what I learned from her. You don't stop because it's hard. You don't fold when things don't go your way. You keep pushing because someone before you did the same so you could even be here.

As I grew older, I found another role model who reflected a different kind of strength: Simone Biles. In a world that often tells athletes they need to look a certain way to succeed, Simone shattered every expectation. She's powerful, confident, unapologetically herself and she never backed down from a challenge. Watching her rise to the occasion on the biggest stages reminded me that greatness isn't about fitting a mold. It's about owning who you are.

As a smaller athlete, I used to think that was something I had to overcome. Simone taught me it was something to lean into. She made me believe that my size didn't limit me; it sharpened me. That confidence, that fearlessness, translated directly into how I play, how I compete and how I carry myself.

What connects my mom and Simone isn't fame or accolades. It's courage. The courage to work relentlessly. The courage to stand firm in who you are. The courage to keep going when no one is watching or when everyone is. Because of them, I learned that giving up was never an option. Those challenges aren't roadblocks; they're invitations to rise up. Every time I step onto the court, I carry both of them with me — one who taught me how to survive, and one who showed me how to soar.

- Audrey Ntetani