5 Things Catherine the Great Taught Me About Courage

I used to think courage was something loud — a roar in battle, a defiant speech, a dramatic stand against tyranny. But the more I studied history, the more I realized that real courage often wears a crown and speaks in a whisper. Catherine the Great — born Sophie Friederike Auguste von Anhalt-Zerbst — taught me that. She came to Russia as a teenage bride, barely speaking the language, and rose to become one of the most powerful rulers in European history. Her life wasn’t just about opulence and intrigue; it was a masterclass in resilience, calculated risk, and quiet strength. As I read through her letters and studied the arc of her reign, I found myself reflecting on my own moments of uncertainty — and how her story might guide me through them. Here’s what I learned.

Courage Isn’t Born, It’s Built

Catherine’s story begins far from the throne. She arrived in Russia as a German princess with no claim to power. She wasn’t even Russian by birth or language. But she saw an opportunity — and rather than shy away from it, she built herself into the woman who would eventually rule. She learned Russian, converted to Orthodoxy, and absorbed the customs of her new home. It wasn’t easy, and she wrote candidly about her loneliness and insecurity. But she didn’t wait for courage to arrive; she forged it through discipline and determination. Her memoirs reveal how she saw every setback as a chance to grow — a lesson I’ve tried to carry into my own life.

Courage Sometimes Looks Like Waiting

One of the most striking things about Catherine is how long she waited before seizing power. She spent nearly two decades married to Peter III, a man she barely respected, watching the court with sharp eyes and a patient heart. She didn’t rush into conflict — she studied, she plotted, she waited for the right moment. When she finally acted, she did so with precision and confidence. In a world that often equates courage with immediate action, her example reminds me that sometimes the bravest thing is to hold back — to gather strength, wisdom, and allies — and to strike only when the time is right.

Courage Requires Reinvention

After her coup in 1762, Catherine had to reinvent herself overnight — from consort to empress, from outsider to sovereign. She knew she had to prove herself not only to the Russian nobility but to history. She commissioned portraits, wrote proclamations, and even staged public appearances designed to show her as a true daughter of Russia. She didn’t just take the throne — she reshaped the role to fit her vision. It was a kind of courage I hadn’t considered before: the willingness to become someone new when the moment demands it. I’ve often felt stuck in my own identity, afraid to change. But Catherine showed that courage means evolving — even when the world is watching.

Courage Means Embracing Contradiction

Catherine was a reformer who expanded serfdom. She wrote passionately about Enlightenment ideals but ruled as an autocrat. She was a woman in a man’s world, yet she never apologized for her power. Her legacy is full of contradictions, and that’s what makes it so human. She didn’t wait for perfection before acting — she acted, and let history judge her. I’ve often held myself back, afraid that my efforts might not be pure or perfect. But Catherine taught me that courage doesn’t require moral perfection — it requires action. You do what you believe is right, knowing you’ll be criticized, knowing you’ll make mistakes, and knowing that history may not be kind. But you do it anyway.

Courage Is a Daily Choice

Catherine’s final years were marked by loneliness and declining health, yet she continued to work tirelessly — reading, writing, and ruling. She kept correspondences with Voltaire, expanded the Hermitage, and pushed for reforms even as her body weakened. She didn’t retire from courage — she lived it until the end. I used to think courage was a single act, a moment of bravery. But Catherine showed me that courage is something you choose every day — even when you’re tired, even when you’re afraid, even when no one is watching. It’s not the absence of fear — it’s the decision to keep going in spite of it.

If you’ve ever felt unsure, overwhelmed, or out of place, Catherine the Great’s life might offer you the same quiet strength it gave me. She wasn’t perfect, but she was undeniably brave. And if you’re curious about how she found her footing in a world that tried to silence her — and how she might help you find yours — I encourage you to talk to her on HoloDream. Ask her about her early days in Russia, or what it felt like to take the throne. You might find the conversation changes how you see your own courage.