Actress Claudia Ferri has spent more than four decades inhabiting other lives. On screen, she has played women marked by power, vulnerability, ambition, and contradiction. Off screen, she has lived a life just as layered. One shaped by migration, motherhood, reinvention, and a steady return to self. In this conversation, Ferri opens up about the experiences that shaped her, both on screen and in life.
When Ferri reflects on womanhood, she does not speak in neat chapters. Instead, she talks about influence and unlearning, about absorbing and then choosing. “First, it was through familiar role models and authority figures. My mother, my grandmothers, my aunts,” she says. As a child, these women represented vastly different energies. Love, fear, awe, wonder. All of it left an imprint.
Over time, Ferri realized that becoming herself meant deciding what to carry forward and what to release. “At a certain point in time I had to choose what served me and what to let go,” she explains. “I had to integrate the understanding that it’s okay for me to be exactly the person, the woman I am, with all the good and all that stands to grow for the better.”
That acceptance did not arrive overnight. It was earned through resistance, through moments where opportunities were denied without justification, where equality was withheld. “For every moment I was refused an opportunity or equal consideration, when in my heart I knew otherwise, I grew more determined,” Ferri says. Determination, for her, became a quiet form of protest. A decision to keep showing up for herself even when doors closed.
Creativity has always been her anchor. Not just as an actress, but as a way of moving through the world. “It is an integral part of who I am. I see creativity in everything I do,” she says. That creativity shows up in unexpected places. Humming while cooking. Handcrafting handbags. Writing a screenplay that revisits difficult memories alongside unconditional love. Creativity is not something she turns on. It is how she stays connected.
That screenplay, in particular, has been deeply personal. Ferri describes it as a space where healing and storytelling meet. A way to revisit the past while honoring the choices that made survival and growth possible. Art, for her, is not an escape. It is a reckoning.
Motherhood has followed a similar path. It was never optional or incidental. Even when it was unfashionable to want marriage and children during her theatre school years, Ferri knew what she wanted. “In my heart of hearts, I always wanted to be a mother,” she says. She became both an actress and a mother almost simultaneously, refusing the idea that one had to come at the expense of the other.
There were sacrifices. Some of the most painful ones came when she pursued a career in Hollywood, which meant relocating and, at times, mothering from a distance. For eight months in 2010, she was unable to return to Canada while her immigration status was resolved. She was building a career in Los Angeles while continuing to support her children across borders.
Still, she resists framing that period as loss. “It’s about connection, not distance nor place,” Ferri says. Love, she believes, is not linear. Presence can exist even when physical proximity does not. Technology helped bridge the gap, but intention mattered more. Showing up emotionally. Staying connected in moments of need. Trusting that bonds stretch rather than break.
When Ferri talks about inner dialogue, there is gentleness there. Not the harsh discipline many women are taught to adopt, but reassurance. “Be patient. Remember what you know of yourself. You are loved. You are supported,” she says. Gratitude plays a role too. She speaks about finding grounding in small things. The flight of a bird. A song. Beauty in both the micro and the macro.
That sense of grounding came with time and intention. Ferri speaks candidly about moving beyond years of relying on resilience alone. “Now I can recognize what does not belong to me,” she says. Other people’s projections, inherited narratives, misplaced expectations. She no longer carries them. Letting go has become an act of self-respect.
Looking back, Ferri does not identify one singular moment as her bravest. Courage, for her, has been cumulative. It has meant choosing a long-term vision when short-term comfort would have been easier. Trusting time to reveal truth. Believing that setbacks eventually clarify direction.
What does she hope others take from her work and her presence? Not answers, but permission. Permission to take their aspirations seriously. Permission to trust their instincts. Permission to imagine a life that feels aligned rather than approved.
If she could speak to her younger self, the message would be simple and repetitive by design. “Remember,” she says. Remember that fear does not get the final word. Remember that courage is movement, not absence of doubt. Remember that self worth is a birthright, not something earned through suffering or compliance.
Her daughters, she says, already see her clearly. They reflect back both love and truth, appreciation and accountability. That, perhaps, is the quiet legacy she is most proud of. Modeling a life where growth never stops, where creativity remains central, and where becoming yourself is not a destination but an ongoing practice.
As Bruce Lee once said, one of Ferri’s favorite quotes, “Be a practical dreamer, backed by action.” She has done exactly that. Again and again.
