Julieth Restrepo: "I didn't know you could fall so many times or get up so many times." This is her interview in BOCAS magazine.

In the garden of her home on the outskirts of Los Angeles, Julieth Restrepo sips lemonade and, keeping an eye on her two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Lucía, fans herself, trying to ward off the drowsiness caused by the oppressive heat of these summer days. Between squeals and laughter, the little girl flips the pages of a colorful book featuring interviews and photos of Colombian figures that she was given a month ago when she traveled to Colombia for a week and a half.

She was in Bogotá, Cali, and Medellín to promote her participation in the series The Residence , a production of eight one-hour episodes for Netflix, which gives her a big break into the American television industry. Filmed entirely in English, with producer Shonda Rhimes at the helm—the most powerful woman in the audiovisual industry today (creator of Grey's Anatomy , Scandal, How to Get Away to Murder, and Bridgerton, among many other hits)—the actress from Medellín plays Elsyie Chayle, the White House housekeeper.

This dramatic comedy-mystery in which a detective tries to solve a murder carried out during a state dinner, has allowed the Colombian to share the set with stars such as Uzo Aduba (Orange Is the New Black), Giancarlo Esposito (Breaking Bad), Kylie Minogue, Susan Kelechi Watson (This Is Us) and the recently deceased Julian McMahon (he died on July 2, he was known for starring in Nip/Tuck).

During his visit, he also visited San Andrés and premiered the short film Rodrigo Branquias, a children's story he produced and filmed on the island with native talent, including San Andrés natives Majida Issa, Laura Archbold, and Jiggy Drama. The 16-minute story is currently touring festivals specializing in children's and teen films, such as Com Kids (Brazil), Pacific Rim (Canada), La Matatena (Mexico), First Kids (California), and Príncipe de los Páramos (Bogotá).

Julieth allows herself to be amazed as she recounts each of her steps and doesn't suffer from false modesty, as no one but her and her close circle knows her troubles. She then points to the poster for Loving Pablo (2018), the film starring Javier Bardem and Penélope Cruz in which she played Pablo Escobar's wife. It features both of their signatures and a dedication: "I had more time to talk with him. With her, I remember one of those surreal scenes in which one day I'm watching Volver and the next we're in the hotel pool in Girardot, talking about what it means to have children and the profession. She, beautiful, in a red bathing suit, while Javier races in the water with the others."

The morning of our chat, she kissed her husband, film and TV composer and music editor Sebastián Zuleta (who has worked on films such as Beverly Hills Chihuahua, Wish, Encanto, and Moana 2), goodbye, then dropped a reminder: “It’s almost August 6th.” A whirlwind of images flooded them: almost 10 years since she packed two suitcases for an unfamiliar city, with limited English, completely certain of what she wanted and uncertain about how to achieve it. She landed in the early morning, and the next day, her friends Felipe Orozco and Sara Millán (director and artistic director of At the End of the Spectrum, her debut film in 2006) invited her for an afternoon out at LACMA, the art museum that hosts free jazz concerts every Friday during the summer.

Erika, her younger sister, is a psychologist. Fernando, her father, hasn't had a drink in over 40 years and, as a taxi driver, has never let her take a bus. And Sol María, her mother—infected by that emotion she learned to recognize in her daughter—decided to give in to her secret impulse and enrolled in theater studies seven years ago.

Two years before upending her life in Bogotá, and with the complicity of her manager, María Clara López, she began to imagine making a career in the U.S. In 2015, fresh off starring in the series about the life of her mother, Laura, she had already presented her mother with three TVyNovelas awards, won for the two seasons of A Mano Limpia and Comando Élite, and a Macondo for the film Estrella del Sur. She settled them into the sanctuary she'd converted Julieth's bedroom into the apartment she gave them a few years ago, fulfilling the promise that the first thing she would do with her acting work would be to give them a home. The room is filled with posters, magazine and newspaper covers that attest to her 20-year career.

Already in Los Angeles, she won an India Catalina Award for her leading role as the Paisa saint and another Macondo Award for The Seed of Silence. Late last year, she returned to film Dear Sirs, in which she played Esmeralda Arboleda, the most important of the suffragists who won women's right to vote 70 years ago.

On August 6th, she'll surely remember the May 2015 sunset on the beaches of Cancún, when she was sunbathing and dipping her toes in the sea during a break from photoshoots for a magazine that had brought several celebrities to shoot on the covers. She was sitting chatting with Verónica Orozco, the very same Vainilla from Oki Doki who made her wake up early throughout her childhood. She told her that in a few weeks she would embark on the journey that some fearful people called a leap into the void. "Don't doubt it," she said.

She is currently taking acting classes with Nancy Banks, teacher of Margot Robbie, Matt Bomer, Chris Pine, Channing Tatum, Forest Whitaker, Emma Stone, Rachel McAdams, Lily Collins, Michelle Pfeiffer, Jennifer Aniston and Ariana Grande, among others.

When she had Lucía, she wanted to put her career on hold for a while. The casting call for The Residence came her way. María Clara persuaded her to prepare the five scenes. One afternoon, driving through the city with her two-and-a-half-month-old daughter in the backseat, they called her. The role was hers. She cried with happiness while trying to drive calmly. They say that children come with a breadwinner.

When did you start acting?

At eight, with my hair cut in a fatal mushroom-shaped style, I played Christopher Columbus at school. At eleven, to the music of Carmina Burana, dragging chains and lamenting deeply to reflect the suffering of the kidnapped, I performed during recess. The nuns and everyone else wept. It felt great to know I was generating that. I was twelve when some classmates put on A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I became certain that I wanted to dedicate myself to that. My cousin Natalia said to me, "Aren't you tired of making a fool of yourself?" Thank goodness I didn't listen.

At that time, your family was going through various financial difficulties. How did you pay for your theater classes at the University of Antioquia?

My uncles Edilma and Ricardo, who worked there, told me about the courses. I borrowed the 100,000 pesos it cost for the semester, and my dad took me to classes every Saturday from the age of 13. I secretly sold candy at school, created artwork, book synopses, and even wrote love letters with poems and glitter designs for my classmates' boyfriends. When I went to pay off the debt, my uncles told me to save it for my next enrollment fee. I was always unstoppable; I joined the scouts and became their queen. At fourteen, I worked as a reporter on "Solo para adolescentes," a program on Teleantioquia. They assigned me to do two interviews, and the next day I arrived at school, I was already the star. When I graduated, I applied to the Antioquia exam several times but didn't pass. I enrolled in classes at the Teatro Popular de Medellín (TPM), worked as a photography assistant for school ID cards, began studying English, and worked as a saleswoman in a clothing store.

Where does recursiveness come from?

The solution lies in need. I always saw my parents selling a lot of things. Mom, in between her work, sold blood sausage, empanadas, and cheese sticks. On Saturdays, we went to the cooperative's coliseum where I worked and sold sandwiches and juices.

It's like magic that life has turned upside down after seeing an advertisement on a lamppost...

I was leaving class at the TPM when I saw the announcement. It was for the horror film At the End of the Spectrum. I applied, and a few days later they told me I was in. I screamed like crazy. But the excitement turned into many nights of crying, as the phone rang to start filming. A year passed, and I saw my hope fading. I was 18 when my parents took me to the airport to ride a plane for the first time because the movie was going to be filmed in Bogotá.

How did it hold up in Bogotá?

I made Christmas cards and painted children's T-shirts. I was a wardrobe assistant for commercials and acted in several. I took classes with Victoria Hernández—who decided not to charge me because she knew I didn't have any money. I doubled for Adriana Arango in the film Te amo Ana Elisa, and work began to appear in many productions.

Have you thought about any acting projects with your mom?

I want to direct, and I want her to star in my next work. In many of the stories I write, she's the protagonist. The lesson she's taught me with her decision to study theater when she's older is that you never stop learning, creating, and doing. She's already acted in ten plays. She's learning English and taking porro dancing classes. When I grow up, I want to be like that.

What did it mean to be the taxi driver's daughter?

The realization that we were going to be financially stable at home. My friends had fathers who were engineers, lawyers, with schedules. It also meant I didn't learn how to navigate Medellín. I get lost, because he drove us everywhere. And it represented fear during Pablo Escobar's time. We only felt relief when we heard the sound of his keys upon arriving.

What do you think of the Medellín that glorifies Pablo Escobar, sells tours of his house, which has been converted into a museum, and presents his misdeeds as heroic deeds?

It saddens me. It stems from ignorance. I had friends in school who lived in the Pablo Escobar neighborhood, and I met people who were grateful for what he gave them, without seeing the full context. As an actress who was able to do Loving Pablo, Noticia de un secuestro , and Griselda , I appreciate that these stories are being told, as it's a way for many people to understand the damage done to the city with this glorification. I defend these productions and feel they can be made, but with a clear purpose of not paying homage to the murderers, but rather to the victims.

His father has a very strong story, from when he ran away from home to escape abuse and, as a teenager, lived on the streets, was homeless, and even had to steal to eat...

I have a lot of admiration for his journey, the battles he's fought, and his resilience; for how he's recovered from his addictions. My dad is (his voice breaks and he sobs)… my hero and my Achilles' heel. Through him, I've learned that there's no circumstance you can't overcome. I've never seen him drunk, since last May 3rd, he turned 44 without a drink. It's been very important to have the memory of seeing him go to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings in my life. That journey of being an addict, of recovery, and that ability to speak from the pain has given me strength. And that 'one day at a time' became my mantra.

Were there no reproaches at some point?

Having been the breadwinner for so long put me in the position of being a real father to my parents. We've become close friends thanks to the choices I've made. He's always been my first call when I've had my heart broken. My parents have done the best they could with what they had.

He worked hard to give them the house…

I settled in Bogotá in 2006. I didn't go on vacation for eight years. My goal was to buy them the house. I finished the first season of A Mano Limpia, auditioned for La promesa, my first leading role, and while eating at Mondongos in Medellín, I told them, "Start looking because I'm going to get that role and I'll be able to make the first payment on the house." My manager helped me get organized financially. He taught me to save 30 percent of what I earned every month. At 24, with the second season of A Mano Limpia, I finished paying off the apartment.

How did he tell them the news?

I called them very happily and told them I was going to make the final payment. My dad didn't answer; he was neutral. I was surprised. A few days later, he confessed to me that he was addicted to gambling and was about to begin his recovery. He apologized. It was a very difficult time for the family, but also an act of courage that helped him react to what was happening in his life. That's why, when people ask me, "Why don't you give up?" I simply answer, "I have no excuse!"

Repeat and apply the verb "dream" a lot...

On the home page of our production company's website, it says: "Every time we follow a dream, we want to inspire someone else to pursue theirs." I believe the power of a decision cannot be underestimated. When I look back, I think of the girl born on December 19, 1986, in Medellín, who was taught to dream, who painted balloons in the air, lived in the El Salvador neighborhood, studied at the Eucharistic School of La Milagrosa, next to the Pablo Escobar neighborhood, with a taxi-driver father and a secretary mother.

What is this about the sobbing spasms you suffered as a child?

Until I was four, I couldn't cry. If something made me angry, I would freeze, dry, unable to breathe, and I would turn blue from the roots of my hair to my toes. They would rub alcohol on me and hit me with verbena branches to bring me back to my senses. My mom says that when she was seven months pregnant, she had a midnight craving for roast beef with chocolate. She was out with my dad in a taxi, and a guy drove by shooting. She couldn't cry from the shock, and they say I was born with that condition.

But the older she got, the more crying she became...

(Laughs) My mom says we cry imagining ourselves going to cry. It's been my way of letting out my frustration, my tiredness. Crying is an escape. I've never been afraid of being vulnerable.

Where did the fascination with storytelling come from?

The walls of the room I shared with my sister were covered with scraps of paper with movie and book quotes, inspirational quotes, and lots of photos. On Saturdays, we would get up at six in the morning to watch Oki Doki and Grimm's Fairy Tales, with a glass of powdered milk with sugar and Milo. What was on the other side of the screen generated a feeling in me that was so unknown I couldn't define. I loved They Call Me Lolita, I wanted to be Carla Giraldo. I would curl my hair and put my stars on my face. When Las Juanas came out, I bought the flip-flops they wore. I adored Angie Cepeda, and I can't believe we're friends now.

Why did you leave Colombia at the height of your acting career?

My mom has a framed magazine cover with the title "Julieth Restrepo, in everything." I had three projects going at the same time when I decided to leave: A Mano Limpia (Clean Hand), Comando Élite (Elite Command) , and La promesa (The Promise) , in addition to two films. I'm proud of the decisions I've made. I love looking back and saying, "Yes, one day I left Colombia, at the peak of my career, and I left the doors wide open."

I'm a Sagittarius, like my mother. I started out without a job in the United States or a visa to get one. When I went to take my first class, my body shut down and my voice stopped working. It was with Deborah Aquila, the casting director for La La Land. I realized my dream was bigger than I imagined and the challenge was greater than I thought.

How did he get out of the quagmire?

Asking myself over and over, “What did you come for?” Aislinn Derbez was in Los Angeles. We met while making The Promise (2013). She warned me, “You’ll be out of work for about a year and a half; it takes patience and learning to wait.” What I didn’t know is that I was actually the master of patience, as it took five years before I made my first small, independent film (25 Cents a Minute, in 2020).

The Derbez family has been very important. Eugenio told me: “Remember that no one will do anything for you. And if you don't fight for it, it won't come to you. You'll have a team, a manager, a publicist, a lawyer... but if you don't go out and pursue your dream, if you don't work for it, you won't achieve it.” Salma Hayek gave him that advice when he arrived in the US. In the early days, I was a nanny, a personal assistant to several women, I worked on student shorts where I received $10 a day, and I auditioned for hundreds of films once I got my permission.

The reason I left was to grow as an actress. When I started receiving rejections, which were countless, I discovered my dark side. I doubted my talent, and through tears, I realized I had to persist, that I wanted to be an actress, not a celebrity.

Several have tried: Amparo Grisales, Marlon Moreno, Paola Turbay did Cane in primetime and even appeared in Californication, but they turned back...

I had an Ayurvedic doctor I cried to. He told me, "Just by leaving, you're not frustrating yourself anymore. Even if you come back in a month, you've managed to check that dream." Around that time, I auditioned for a project in Bogotá and got the job. The producer was furious because I told him I was leaving for Los Angeles. He told my manager that I'd come back in a few years, because I was going to fail, like the others.

How did you meet Sebastian?

It was three in the afternoon on August 7, 2015. 'Sebas' stopped by LACMA with his brother to greet my friends. I was jet-lagged, overwhelmed, and incredibly unfriendly. I wore dark glasses and barely shook his hand when I was introduced to him. We just exchanged social media accounts and became friends, going to movies and chatting. Soon after, I broke up with the boyfriend of five years I'd left in Bogotá, and he forgot about the girl from Medellín he'd been getting to know online. Nine months passed before we looked at each other differently.

How real is Hollywood glamour?

I've experienced it in small ways, promoting projects. Last year, I went with my husband to the Netflix SAG Awards party. I saw Jennifer Aniston, Sofia Vergara, Bradley Cooper, Lady Gaga—everyone you could imagine. I'm like a fan in love with them, and I have to remember that they're just ordinary people who have insecurities and struggles.

For the launch of Loving Pablo, I was freshly unpacked in Los Angeles…

I was processing my residency, I couldn't audition or leave the country. I had my big night in a green sequined dress, photos with Bardem and Penélope, Peter Sarsgaard, Édgar Ramírez, magazines, and a cocktail party. The next day I was babysitting at 7 a.m., taking care of the baby I was working with. That's the Hollywood dream, too. You'd be frustrated if you didn't understand it.

What other stars have you met?

Rachel McAdams and Mark Ruffalo at a screening, and I took a picture with them. My husband has worked with Tom Hanks, director J.J. Abrams, composer Frank Zimmermann, and Pharrell Williams. One day I was walking to an audition, and Sally Hawkins (The Shape of Water) was standing next to me. I looked at her like an idiot for a few seconds, she smiled at me, and we crossed the street together when the light changed. I couldn't speak to her. I think I'm preparing for the time I meet Meryl Streep. I think I'm going to faint; I picture her and I want to cry. My frustration before was that if I didn't speak English well, I wouldn't be able to play her daughter in a movie.

Have you ever felt like Hollywood is a soulless, anxious place, like people are waiting for something to happen and everyone is trying to be seen?

You're not wrong. I've written a lot about Los Angeles. It's a city of dreamers, but it tests that dream every day. Being an actor is about a lot of self, about validation and acceptance. This place makes you think you can make it, that you're close, but at the same time, it asks you how long you're willing to wait. I made peace with the city when I understood that my task wasn't to fit in but to belong; it's not Fit in but Belong.

What kind of film and TV would you like to continue making?

What I love most are family stories. I loved Still I'm Here, from Brazil (foreign Oscar 2025). I'm dying to work with its director, Walter Salles (Central Station, The Motorcycle Diaries, Paris Je t'aime). He captured the essence of a family in that film, which, while extremely hard and sad, is also very beautiful and profound.

What other directors do you want to work with?

With Denis Villeneuve (Warsaw, Blade Runner 2049, Dune), Ava DuVernay (Selma), Greta Gerwig (Lady Bird, Little Women, Barbie) and of course Almodóvar.

It must be a pain that when applying, the cover letter is from a Latina, a Colombian...

At first, I had to look only for Latina characters; that's why I worked so hard on the accent. Of course, there are complex Latina characters I'd like to play. I also want roles where being Latina isn't the issue, but rather flowing with the culture and the language. Ana de Armas is an example. It may sound cliché, but I do believe that characters choose you, and you have to prepare for when they arrive, something you never know when will happen.

How do you notice that it has been integrated?

I made a romantic comedy called Switch Up (2024), where I always speak in English, directed by American director Tara Pirnia and produced by Robert Rodriguez. In another film, with Roberto Urbina, I played a border patrol officer, all in English. I don't want to get into a fight, nor do I want to be ashamed of being Latina, but I felt it; I thought that if that was the reason I was rejected, there must be something wrong with it. I've made peace with my Latin identity.

How did it feel acting in Griselda?

Working with Sofía (Vergara) is amazing. I've never met a woman so authentic, so powerful, so aware of who she is, so proud of herself. That's incredibly inspiring in an industry where you sometimes fall into the trap of trying to be something else just to fit in. As a producer, as an actress, and as a scene partner, she taught me a lot.

What does it mean to work on a Shonda Rhimes series?

She's huge and one of the role models I had since Medellín, since I watched Grey's Anatomy. You think those people are unreachable. Then, being with her at the premiere party and her talking to me about my character... Ahhh! So, a dream come true. She's shaped TV, broken stereotypes, and what she does is connected to what I would like to achieve in this industry.

And your castmates?

Uzo Aduba, the lead actress, is a Black woman in a huge series, with an incredible character. She also gives a masterclass in acting. She was a new mother during filming, like me. She supports the women she works with and those she meets. I watched Giancarlo Esposito on Breaking Bad and couldn't believe I had scenes with him.

When I read the scripts, her name was right under mine. It was surreal. We didn't have any scenes together, but I ran into her on set. I introduced myself to her, hugged her. She's so sweet. It's incredible to be in front of an icon like her.

How did Julian McMahon's death affect you?

I met him on my first day of work. I recognized him, but I didn't know his name. I introduced myself. I said, "I'm Julieth." He replied, "Julian." I looked at him and said, "No, Julieth." He insisted, "No, Julian." And he added, "I know you're Julieth; you've told me that several times. I'm Julian." Every time we saw each other, we burst out laughing. He had a beautiful relationship with everyone. A few weeks ago, several of us from the cast got together for dinner. We're still in shock over his death, having not known he was battling cancer.

What has becoming a producer brought you?

It frees me. I realized I can't just sit around waiting for a call. The job will come, but you can't just wait around because the line is huge, and you'll be disappointed when what you want doesn't arrive. Sebastián and I created the production company Blue Rabbit Films, with which we've made the LGBTQ+ romantic short film Kisses to Kevin and the comedy drama Donna; the film Unidentified Objects; the social media series La Muñe, where, as a kind of alter ego, I recount absurd situations about living in Los Angeles; and we're in pre-production on the feature film Pieces of Me, where I'll co-star with Oscar nominee Adriana Barraza. I've produced all of them and have written or co-written several.

Have you ever imagined receiving an Oscar?

(Her gaze remains suspended in a long silence)… Yes. I dream about it. I love it when I hear words like those of Olivia Colman (Oscar 2019, for The Favourite). I think she's speaking to me when she dedicates it "to all those little girls practicing a speech in front of the TV, because you never know." I know I'm going to cry, but I want to be coherent when I speak. And I ask myself: "Will I say hello in Spanish?" You have to dream it to make it happen.

A woman aware of her shadows, as well as her light, and what she can contribute. I have a stronger character, I'm more honest. I take risks more easily, I feel freer to express myself, without fear of what others will say about my thoughts. I no longer have the desire to do everything perfectly, nor am I afraid of being a beginner. I've always been ambitious and felt that was wrong, that it was wrong to dream big. I learned the true meaning of resilience, because I thought it meant not giving up, but in reality it means adapting to circumstances. And I didn't know one could fall so many times or get up so many times.