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Furaha, 70, lives in West Harlem and let go of negativity in the last decade.

I was born in Harlem, around the corner from here. It was just me, my mom, and my brother. When I was 4, my mother moved me up to Rochester. I had a very charmed life because my mother bent over backward and gave me every possible opportunity. I went to private school from kindergarten through 12th grade. I went to sleepover camp twice, which isn’t cheap. I had ballet and piano lessons. I was in the angel choir and the Brownies. She exposed me to everything. We went on outings to museums, the salt mines in Syracuse, the world fair here in New York City. She made sure I was a member of the library and exposed me to classical music, even though I didn’t want to hear it. It was full and rich.

But with all this goodness she was trying to anoint me with, I was pushing back and being this seriously rebellious soul. Even though she was spending her hard-earned money to send me to a good school, I wasn’t doing the hard work. I actually failed the fifth grade, which should not have been the case. Unfortunately, when you serve a child a negative and continue to reinforce it, then they’re going to act out by becoming that negative thing. I can remember being told I was stupid by teachers because I was the only black student in my classes, so I bought into that. There was that expectation that we weren’t that bright anyway, and they were in charge, so I thought it must be so.

I moved to D.C. and became a picture framer in my early twenties. My skillset was the level of a secretary or a receptionist. And I had ensured that I wasn’t going to college: When I graduated high school, I was such a poor student that they gave me a D+ rather than fail me because they didn’t want me to come back.

I began to find myself through picture-framing in the early 70s. By the time I learned enough about framing, I was running an entire retail store. There were things that people brought in that I had no clue how to frame, so I designed it myself and figured it out. I became an engineer. When I was in school, my worst subject was math. But through framing, I realized that I wasn’t as bad as I’d thought. The skills I had learned served me very well. I also understood filing systems and details. I became more confident in my abilities.

On deciding to pursue acting

I went to Atlanta and opened my own shop in ’87, on my birthday. I was trying to put distance between my mother and me. She was strict, to say the least. She really kept her foot on my neck and I wanted some breathing room.

But as fate would have it, as we both began to age, I realized that not only did I want to change careers, but I needed to be close to my mom.

So I decided to move back to New York in ’96 and pursue a career in acting. I think acting has always been it for me, but I was just never able to wrap my mind around it. Whenever I saw other people perform, I felt like God had come and left without me. It should have been me up there, not sitting in the audience.

When I got back to New York City, I applied for a scholarship and auditioned for the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. But, you know, scholarships don’t give you money for housing and food. So I was only able to stay for the first term. But it was okay because the whole purpose of that exercise was getting me back in the city. Because once you leave New York, you better be damn certain that you don’t want to come back—it’s too tough. If you’re solid in New York, never let it go! Luckily, I was shopping in some store and a woman heard me talking and liked my voice. She cast me in a BMW commercial right there and then.

At 70, I consider myself to be extremely fortunate. Twenty-five years ago, when my mother was 70, there were not options for women the way that there are now. That ageism ceiling? I’m actually watching it begin to break apart. When I go on Instagram now, I see women of a certain age who are out there kicking ass and taking names. I have earned every single one of these years.

On making peace with her mother

I’m a strong believer in things happening for a simple and finite reason, and they happen in the time that they’re meant to happen. When the student is ready, the teacher will appear. My mom died at 95. She was diagnosed with congestive heart failure and dementia in 2014. I knew that the arc of her life was on the decline. I had begun to pray for my mother’s demise because shewas suffering. She had two knees replaced, she was diagnosed with breast cancer, she had a hip replaced, she had cataracts in both eyes. But the event that really impacted me the most over the last decade was my mother’s death.

When she was diagnosed, the first thing I had to accept was: This is not about me, this is about her.

A history of contention between us was no longer important. I forgave her for everything so that I could be there for her the same way she would have been there for me. To get that message was huge. You see, a lot of the times I didn’t like my mother. She got on my last nerve. But now I was advocating for her 100%. I came to realize that we loved each other dearly. The entire reason we had all this angst between us was that we were so much alike. Two strong independent women who were not willing to give an inch.

If you’re willing to learn and grow, you can peel apart every negative and find out where that stream of light is that brings the positive.

In the past 10 years, I’ve gotten to a place where I don’t accept negatives. I don’t want to hear them. If you’re willing to learn and grow, you can peel apart every negative and find out where that stream of light is that brings the positive. Because it’s there, somewhere. Ever since she died, I’ve been blown away by the things that have happened that I’m sure my mother had something to do with. I have been busier in the last year than I’ve been in the last 19. Last month, I had three auditions in one day. That’s never happened to me before! 

On her hopes and dreams for the next decade

In 2020, I’m hoping to get that first invitation to the Oscars so I can go ahead and wear that red dress. And I hope the decade will represent clear vision in the world. I think we, as patriots, have to find a way to push back against these good old boys who are running the country. The playing field has to be leveled. The truth is, I’m well below the poverty line, but the system is designed to tell people no and push them back. I worry that we live in a time that lacks such morality and ethical behavior that we’re willing to destroy the country for selfish greed. I’m praying that we begin to prioritize the legacy that we’re responsible for. The baton doesn’t get handed forward—it gets handed back.

Pursue your passions. Whatever you put out into the universe is exactly what the universe hands back to you. It’s constantly conspiring on our behalf. It wants us to be happy, whole, and fulfilled. Whatever your truth is, hold onto it. Name it and claim it.

Iman Hariri-Kia  Iman Hariri-Kia is a New York-based writer, musician, activist, and Bustle’s Sex & Relationships Editor.

Photographer Makeda Sandford.