Homeless to Harvard: The Liz Murray Story

This movie The Poverty-Stricken Harvard Girl , also known as The Road to Harvard , is based on a true story, and I finally got to watch it after a long search. I also read the original book before watching the movie today.

It’s a powerful film, adapted from real events. Liz's parents were both addicts, and her mother suffered from schizophrenia, became blind, and later died of AIDS. Liz's life was filled with hardship: she stayed in shelters, slept in subway stations, and rummaged through trash. Never having a proper home, her teenage years were mostly spent wandering in chaos. Occasionally, she had to play the role of the adult, going back to care for her parents and sister. She often sat crying beside her mother's sickbed. The people around her were mostly those who had faced unfortunate lives, dealing with peer violence, sexual abuse, and mental health issues. Day after day, she lived in a world devoid of hope and dreams. When her mother passed away, Liz went to the rooftop of a building and cried helplessly in the rain. At her mother's burial, there was no pastor, no ceremony. After the few attendees left, Liz quietly lay on her mother's coffin and softly spoke of the past.

Despite all this, Liz managed to work her way to Harvard University through sheer will and determination. To pay for Harvard's expensive tuition, she searched for all available scholarship opportunities. On the day of the interview, she didn’t have a decent outfit to wear, only a ragged dress and a borrowed coat from her sister. Yet, she received the scholarship and entered Harvard. During her speech upon receiving the scholarship, Liz said that her life was forever changed at that moment. Liz Murray, the poorest and bravest Harvard girl, stood in the golden autumn of Harvard with determination in her eyes.

Liz was born in 1980, and the film was made in 2003. Later, Liz realized that Harvard was not the right fit for her, so she transferred to Columbia University.

This achievement wasn’t just due to Liz's efforts; her teacher, David, played an important role in her success. One example is from a scene in which Liz was unsatisfied with receiving an A- on an assignment and went to ask David for help, demonstrating David’s insightful guidance and support.

David: Hey, new student. Liz: (complaining) You approved my admission but don’t remember my name. David: I remember your name; I just want the others to stand beside you. Liz: You’re smart. David: You are too. Liz: (gathering courage) You gave me an A-. David: Yes, I thought it was good. Liz: How can I get an A? David: Liz, an A- is already a very high score. After all, this is your first assignment. Liz: (pauses) If I write something useful, would you help me revise it? (hands the paper to David) David: (smiling) Alright...

In this moment, Liz's behavior is also worth learning from. It’s interesting to observe what this unfortunate girl—homeless, with a drug-addicted mother who died of AIDS and a father in a shelter—did to manage, with just two or three years of schooling, to enter the prestigious Harvard University. Perhaps it was persistence in doing the little things, keeping a dream, and maintaining faith.

There are many touching moments in the film. For example, a class discussion that I found quite engaging:

Classroom Background: The students complain about losing loose-leaf pages and question why textbooks aren't used instead.

David: Hmm, textbooks. Why don't we use textbooks? Who knows? Girl A: They're too heavy. David: (dismissively) Uh-uh... yes, but that’s not why you can’t have the cigars (reward for good class participation). Girl B: They’re too expensive, the school can’t afford them. David: (dismissively) Uh-uh... I’ll keep my cigars today. (points to Liz) You, new student. Girl C: (defending Liz) Her name is Liz. Boy D: (adding) Oh my God, David, she’s been here a week, and you still can’t remember her name? David: (playfully) Liz, sue me if you like. (He throws Liz a thick textbook and she flips it open) Liz: Textbook, textbook... (flips through, what does it say?) Liz: Words. (Everyone laughs) David: (guiding) What kind of words? Liz: (just got to the preface) The author's words. (Everyone laughs again) David: No, no, this is important. What’s in my hand? (points to the loose-leaf pages) Liz: (starts to realize) Other people’s words. David: Why am I giving these to you? Liz: (understanding) Because one perspective gives you one view. (closes the textbook and pushes it forward) David: (pleased but not showing it, throws Liz a cigar) Cigar, cigar, “commercial trademark” (referring to the earlier classroom discussion), sold to me by the guy who sells bubble gum, cigars! Why can we only see one person’s story? (walks around the class, looks at everyone, and points to the textbook, slowing his speech to emphasize) Boy B: (questioning) But isn't that the official history? David: No, (to Liz) Kid, tell him what history is. Liz: History is... (pauses) All of us. All of us count. David: (nodding at Liz)

The bell rings for the end of class.

We are all ordinary people, but we can make our lives extraordinary.

Many people love motivational movies because they see themselves in the stories of others, but often the results aren’t as brilliant. However, everyone can be as remarkable as Liz. She rarely went to class, less than three times a month, but like in that scene, she didn’t let the teacher take away her test papers and still insisted on doing the English assignment, saying, “No, I want to do it; it doesn’t seem that difficult.” We all need to pursue something, and these pursuits are not as difficult as we think. The hardest part is convincing ourselves that they are not hard and taking the first step.

Many successful people summarize their past by saying, “I’m not a genius...” That's right, we are all ordinary people. “I just kept going…” Yes, even small things add up. “Einstein had to put in a lot of effort,” Yes, no one becomes successful by accident, but we can certainly make our lives extraordinary.

Liz aced that test, and the teacher asked her how she did it. Liz: “I read a lot of books.” Teacher: “What kind of books?” Liz: “Encyclopedias. The lady upstairs, Ms. Iva, found some books, but there was no R-S section. If you asked me about that part, I wouldn’t have any answers. I just got lucky.”

Yes, many people who are lucky might have seen the same book Liz referred to, but still wouldn’t be able to answer the question correctly.

If you meet successful people, talk to them, or watch their interviews, you’ll find that they often take their success for granted. And it makes sense—success is the result of persistence in doing things that others are unwilling to do, the little things that may seem insignificant but, when accumulated, lead to greatness.

As the ancient saying goes, "The beginning is always the hardest." And "A good start is half the battle."

If you persist in something three times, by the third time, you will succeed. This is true.

The protagonist repeatedly mentions her mother, who has AIDS and no memory, and her father, who has AIDS and no emotions.

She doesn’t shy away from talking about her family because, by then, she has nothing left to hide or cover up, having already stripped herself of all pretense.

In most cases, when someone reaches this point, they are just struggling to survive, with little regard for morality, dignity, or shame.

This is the typical situation, but some exceptionally gifted individuals, who mature early and possess extraordinary abilities, are able to transcend these typical circumstances and stand apart from the masses.

This film is an older one. I’ve watched it multiple times since my high school teacher recommended it—piecemeal, over five or six times. At first, I used it for inspiration, but over time, it became a way for me to release my emotions. It’s like when you’re feeling down, and you watch someone who has it even worse than you, but then they go through struggles and emerge victorious, and all of a sudden, your frustration is gone.

The other day, I watched the film again and found a new perspective. I started to see it beyond the simple rags-to-riches narrative. I realized I no longer just view it as a motivational movie, even though that is essentially its purpose.

There are two types of people in this world who can achieve great things: those born into privilege and those born into extreme hardship.

Those born into privilege have abundant resources and networks. As long as they’re not completely inept, with some sense of self-esteem and confidence, they’re much more likely to succeed compared to ordinary people. After all, they have experienced mentors who can guide them, and even without a foundation, just listening to stories from previous generations is enough to help them find their way.

On the other hand, those born into extreme hardship, burdened by shame over their origins, often develop a stronger desire for success and a firmer determination to succeed. With limited resources, they must work harder than others, pushing themselves beyond the limits, often disregarding emotions, relationships, and leisure, and relentlessly drawing nourishment from their barren surroundings. Just like the thorny shrub in the desert, the only way it survives is by sending out its roots deep into the dry soil. Over time, you realize that these roots spread all over the desert.

Those in the middle ground, however, often live at the bottom of society. They’re constantly thinking about how to make money, yet their lives remain monotonous. They earn wages that don’t meet their needs and live under the heaviest taxes. If no external misfortune befalls them, they may live their whole lives without a breakthrough. When asked how they’re doing, the most common answer is, “I’m fine.”

Yes, it’s fine. They are alive, but that’s about it—just surviving, not thriving.

I have a friend who completed a vocational school through installment payments and night classes. He studied computer repair. Now, he’s a director at a top 500 company in the South. When he was younger, if you asked him about his family, he would be ashamed to answer. Now, he answers with ease, saying, "If I had told you back then, you would have thought I was just crying poor and asking for money. The truth is, my family was that poor. How could I even dare to ask for help?"

Thinking about this friend, and reflecting on what I’ve observed over the years, many young entrepreneurs rise up because they’re unwilling to settle for their current situation. And often, their current situation is vastly different from the norm. It’s not just a difference in quality of life; it’s a matter of life and death.

If you had asked them how they were doing, they would never answer with “I’m fine.”

That small group of people, driven by the strongest sense of shame, strives to escape their reality, to escape their predicament, much like someone drowning desperately trying to reach the surface for air. They’re ashamed of their family, their background, but more than that, they are ashamed of their ignorance. That’s why they fight harder than anyone else, work more relentlessly, even to the point of obsession or dysfunction. Their personalities may be a little off, but clearly, this approach brings results.

This accumulation of effort helps them move from being ashamed to talk about their circumstances, to a point where they disdain using “I’m fine” as a response when asked, "How are you doing these days?"

Our teacher showed us this movie before our college entrance exams, and I know she intended to inspire us to work hard. However, I really dislike this approach. Overall, I am passionate about learning, but I feel that through this movie, she was trying to convey a value system I do not agree with—namely, that a good university equals success.

I think this is a naive value system. It’s true that getting into a good university is great, but what about those who don’t get into a good university? (I’m excluding those who aren’t interested in studying.) Does that mean they have nowhere to go? Don’t mistake me for complaining, but I believe we should acknowledge that this value system is immature.

Let’s talk about the movie. I greatly admire her effort and perseverance, and I respect her determination. But her success is an exception. Her academic abilities played a large part in her success, though of course, it’s not to deny her hard work. But most people can’t learn the way she did—at least, I can’t. Moreover, Harvard doesn’t equal success. For her, getting into Harvard was the only path she could think of to survive. She just wanted to stay alive. The director uses Harvard as a metaphor for success, and I think this is highly unreasonable. Using a concrete thing to symbolize a broad concept is a simplistic form of materialism that generalizes and implies a childish value system. I think this is detrimental to society. This movie only gives the audience a dream. People focus on her success in getting into Harvard, yet they overlook the fact that almost no one can follow her exact path, and even fewer will achieve “success.” It’s like how Bill Gates' success has misled many people. First, let’s understand what success really means, and then watch this movie again.

I also hope my teacher sees this review. These are my thoughts.

The movie had a huge impact on me. I was deeply touched by the growth journey of the protagonist, who, through her relentless efforts, finally achieved her dreams and transformed her life.

One line from the movie really stuck with me: “I believe I will succeed, I just need one chance.” This shows the protagonist’s incredible determination. I can’t help but agree that we all need to believe in ourselves. As long as we keep pushing forward, we will eventually see the rewards.

My favorite line is: “When you really want to accomplish something, the whole world will help you.” Fate can be changed, as long as we have dreams, take action, and face reality with optimism. In the end, we will definitely achieve our dreams. We shouldn’t complain about our current misfortunes but should face them courageously and take action to change. Without going through storms, how can we see the rainbow? Without bleeding hands, how can we play the most beautiful song in the world?

The movie’s story is truly inspiring. I also believe that with hard work, there will always be a reward, though it may come at different times.

Why did I cry? It depends on what kind of movie it is.

First of all, I don’t think this is a motivational movie, one that deliberately plays up the tragic scenes to make the audience cry, only to reveal everything with the message: "Look, there are people who are even worse off than you. Her parents were drug addicts and died from AIDS, her life was in chaos, and she was forced into a shelter, then ended up homeless." Then, the narrative turns, "If she can get into Harvard despite everything, why can’t you?"

Some might call it a dramatized film, using Harvard — the ultimate symbol of success — as a selling point, portraying the elite concept and the homeless reality in one person for dramatic effect. But when Liz Murray herself appeared on screen playing the cold-hearted official who took Liz away, it shattered all those dramatized and fake criticisms.

Let’s be clear, this case is an exception, not a rule. The funny God wouldn’t realistically give someone such a tragic life and then lead them to Harvard's bright future. However, this doesn’t stop many people from gaining inspiration from the film after watching it. It’s not about comparing who’s more miserable, nor about pitying her, and certainly not about changing our lives after watching it. I cried because it awakened the dormant sense of shame inside me.

I don’t intend to pity or belittle myself by comparing to others. My shame comes from a clearer recognition of myself. I feel ashamed that, for the past decade, I haven’t cultivated the qualities needed to succeed, like perseverance, persistence, or the ability to push through when it really matters. Over the past two years, I’ve had a complex relationship with this film. It’s been recommended to me multiple times, and I’ve watched it again and again, reflecting on myself, but my own limitations still make me feel deeply ashamed.

The first time I was recommended to watch this film was in the winter two years ago, during an SSAT writing class. The students were noisy, and the graduate student teacher was helpless. She started talking about her experiences, and somehow ended up talking about the narrow worldview of high school students abroad. She mentioned how a naive girl once came to her in class and said, “Teacher, I don’t think there are any poor people in the world.” The teacher felt disgusted and told her, “You should go watch Homeless Harvard .”

I think the reason for her remark was the basic idea of “comparing miseries,” trying to tell the girl that the world isn’t as simple as she imagined. But this teacher’s story, like Liz’s, was also one of ups and downs. It taught me how shallow the idea is that money can't trap people — money really can drive people to despair. Family and the future are also a dilemma.

She’s proud and aloof. She doesn’t like to smile, but when she does, it’s beautiful. Last year, when she was taking the GRE, we had some contact. She told me her cousin, whom she hated, had gotten into Columbia Business School, and her stingy aunt wouldn’t lend her a single penny. I don’t know if she ever came to the U.S. to pursue a Ph.D. and fulfill her dream, but it seems unlikely. In August, one of her new students contacted me and confessed their admiration for her. I don’t know where she is now, or if she’s still obsessed with ACG (Anime, Comics, and Games), or if she still tells her students about her story. But whenever I see the movie cover with Liz’s determined, lean face, I always think of that girl’s slightly chubby face, with the dimples when she smiled.

But I didn’t watch the film immediately. During the summer heat, I took a gap year and stayed at home. I told myself I was studying English, but in reality, I was sinking into apathy. It was then that I finally brought out the film.

There were several emotional moments during the movie. When Liz’s mom was lifted onto the ambulance, when Liz’s mom passed away and Liz cried on the rooftop, and another moment when Liz toured Harvard’s campus. The last time I cried was probably because, after enduring a hellish existence, she finally reached a place that was just a hair’s breadth away from paradise. When she felt her dream was within reach, I, watching the film, felt my future was dim, and I couldn’t see where I was heading.

After the movie, I locked myself in my room and cried for an entire hour. My sense of shame was pierced for the first time. At that moment, I felt like a person stuck in a swamp, about to drown, shamelessly and desperately looking for an imaginary piece of driftwood that would pull me out and untangle the mess of my life, leading me to rise above and become "successful" through my "intelligence" and hard work. After wiping my shameful tears, the film made it clear to me: no one can save you. The person you think might help you may even pull you under. Emotional support, friends, mentors—they are all something that you can’t count on. Only self-reliance, self-awareness, and self-reflection can save you.

At that time, I didn’t like Liz. Her character seemed somewhat unreal to me. I couldn’t understand why she didn’t harbor any resentment toward her mother or her family. I always skipped the long conversation between Liz and her mother at the beginning. The details about her mother would touch on my own pain points.

Then came a long year. I experienced many changes, dreams shattered, restructured, until today. Today, in my English class, the movie was shown again. It was my seventh time watching it. The American kids were watching it for the first time, and they were scared by the mention of drugs and schizophrenia in the opening scenes. I realized just how naïve they were. When Liz’s mom was trembling and was carried away in the ambulance, Liz clung to the door of the vehicle, unwilling to let go, I instinctively wiped my eyes. At that moment, I saw my English teacher wiping her eyes too.

This teacher is an almost-60-year-old, soon-to-retire Jewish woman. She’s plump, very kind, and smiles warmly whenever I greet her. She’s like an American apple pie. She likes me, and every time she gives back our exam papers, she says, “Oh, I really wish the classroom was full of students like you. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about anything.” I pieced together fragments of information about her, and she was also an early achiever — started college at 15 or 16, hardworking and excellent, married a lawyer, had two kids who went to the best private schools and graduated from Yale and Duke, and now she’s successful in her career and surrounded by family.

Could she have cried too?

After class, I had a brief conversation with her. Sure enough, she said that every time she watches the film, she cries. Her early achievement wasn’t much different from Liz’s. She’s had a successful career and family, and the effort behind it is obvious. She has no reason to feel ashamed.

But she said, “I really feel ashamed. Not because I have to live her life to succeed, but because I can’t do it. I couldn’t be as diligent as she was, and I couldn’t be as forgiving. I cry not because it touches me, but because of a feeling that’s hard to describe. I think Liz has something that modern teenagers lack. It’s hard to define.”

I nodded. Diligence and perseverance aren’t enough to explain it. Liz’s face on the cover, looking back with a fierce gaze, every time, she sees right through me, and makes me see a little bit of myself too.