…If I could spread an idea that would bring the most good to the most people… I’d love to create something that makes people focus on their similarities rather than their differences. Because united, we will continue to make America the great country it is..
I had the pleasure of talking with Margaret Avery. Margaret is an Oscar-nominated actress celebrated for her versatile performances in film, television, and theater. Known widely for her portrayal of Shug Avery in Steven Spielberg’s The Color Purple (1985), Avery has built a career that spans decades, blending dramatic and comedic roles with a dedication to her craft. Her latest project, the Netflix series A Man on the Inside, pairs her with Ted Danson in a detective story set within an assisted living facility. The series premieres November 21, adding another noteworthy role to Avery’s already impressive resume.
Born in Mangum, Oklahoma, Avery grew up in San Diego, California, in a Navy family. Her father’s rise from janitor to airplane inspector, fueled by a strong work ethic, and her mother’s insistence on the value of education, shaped her early years. Avery attended Point Loma High School, where she balanced being one of only a few Black students with active participation in cheerleading and various school clubs. While her upbringing in predominantly white and low-income neighborhoods often left her feeling like a loner, it also honed her resilience and ability to adapt.
Initially pursuing a teaching career, Avery graduated from San Francisco State College (as called then) and began working as an elementary school teacher. However, her passion for performance was undeniable. While teaching in the Bay Area, she studied acting, voice and dance. Summer vacations consisted of studying in New York. While employed as a teacher, she balanced her professional career with weekend performances in theater and Supper Clubs. Inspired by Sidney Poitier’s Oscar for the film Lilly’s of the Field, and Dihann Carroll’s starring role in the TV series, Julia, she relocated to Los Angeles, closer to the film industry. She substitute taught by day and continued honing her talents by night and weekends, preparing and hoping for future opportunities. When television opened its doors for people of color, she was cast in TV commercials, enabling her to quit her teaching job. Her stage work gained traction in Los Angeles, earning her an L.A. Drama Critics Award for the 1973 play Does a Tiger Wear a Necktie? Clint Eastwood, impressed by her performance in the play, cast her in Magnum Force, a pivotal moment that opened doors for her in television and film.
Avery’s early television appearances in the 1970s included roles on shows such as Kojak, Sanford and Son, and Murder, She Wrote. She also became a regular fixture in blaxploitation films, taking on gritty roles that showcased her ability to navigate complex characters with nuance. As television expanded its storytelling scope in the 1980s, Avery transitioned to more dynamic roles, culminating in her breakout performance as Shug Avery in The Color Purple. Her portrayal of the bold and layered character earned her an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actress, cementing her status as a prominent actress in Hollywood.
Following the success of The Color Purple, Avery experienced a career lull, a reflection of the limited opportunities for Black actresses in Hollywood at the time. Despite the challenges, she remained active, engaging in college lecture circuits and pursuing personal growth through education. Avery studied psychology at California State University, Northridge, a decision that she credits with deepening her understanding of human behavior, a skill she later applied to both her acting and her time as a therapist.
In the decades that followed, Avery found steady work in film and television. Memorable roles included appearances in Welcome Home, Roscoe Jenkins, opposite James Earl Jones, and Proud Mary, with Taraji P. Henson. On television, she is known for her recurring role as Helen Patterson, the mother of Gabrielle Union’s character in BET’s Being Mary Jane. Guest appearances on popular series like Grey’s Anatomy, The Neighborhood, and Better Things further underscored her adaptability as an actress.
Avery’s dedication to her craft is matched by her ability to navigate an evolving entertainment industry. Speaking candidly about her experiences in television and film, she has often highlighted the challenges faced by Black performers, particularly during the early stages of her career. She has expressed gratitude for mentors like her high school acting teacher, who encouraged her to compete in citywide speech contests, and directors like Steven Spielberg, who recognized her unique talents and allowed her the space to shine.
Avery’s latest project, A Man on the Inside, is a reflection of her enduring appeal and versatility as an actress. Working alongside industry veterans like Ted Danson, she brings her signature depth and charisma to the series, which explores themes of aging, deception, and resilience. In interviews, Avery has shared her enthusiasm for collaborating with peers from her era, recounting the camaraderie and shared stories between takes.
Now residing in Los Angeles, Avery continues to work actively in the industry while cherishing her role as a mother. Reflecting on her journey, she often emphasizes the importance of unity and empathy, values that have guided both her personal life and her professional choices. As she looks forward to new opportunities, Avery’s enduring passion for storytelling and connection positions her as a cherished figure in Hollywood, with aspirations to follow in the footsteps of beloved icons like Betty White.
Yitzi: Margaret, it’s a delight and an honor to meet you. Before we dive in deep, our readers love to learn about your personal origin story. Can you share with us a story of your childhood and how you grew up?
Margaret: Well, I grew up in San Diego, California during the ’50s. It was a very racist city at that time, very Navy-oriented because all the ships were stationed there. I grew up with my mom and dad. My dad started out in San Diego as a janitor but worked his way up to managing 400 people as an airplane inspector. That happened because of his incredible work ethic. As he told me, his boss once said, “I really like the way you work.” That was when he was still a janitor, and his boss, a white man, helped him move up the ranks.
My mother — I don’t think she ever graduated from high school — but she was a very savvy woman. She worked in hospitals and was always insistent on the importance of education. She would always tell me, “Education is something no one can ever take away from you.”
I’d say I grew up very conscious of cleanliness because of my parents. My mom knew a lot about bacteria from working in hospitals, and my dad, as an airplane inspector, was meticulous about everything. So, I’m not sure why I’m so junky now. My house is clean — you could eat off my kitchen floor — but I can’t seem to keep papers organized!
What else can I say about myself? I was very active in high school. I grew up in Navy housing, which was basically a low-income ghetto. But I went to an elitist high school, which was practically all white. There were only about ten Black students in the whole school — or “colored,” as we were called back then.
I was an only child and didn’t really fit in with the Black kids in my neighborhood because we didn’t share the same values. At school, I was able to assimilate into the social life of the white kids, but back then, Black and white kids didn’t socialize outside of school. So, I ended up being a bit of a loner. Still, I was very involved in school. I was a cheerleader, and if you looked at my yearbook from Point Loma High School, you’d see I was in all kinds of clubs.
Yitzi: How did you get your start in the entertainment industry?
Margaret: My mother wanted me to be a nurse, so I joined the Future Nurses Club and volunteered as a candy striper at the hospital. But I quickly realized that nursing wasn’t for me. I couldn’t stand the sight of blood, and watching someone get a needle made me queasy. The only thing I really enjoyed was reading to the patients.
There was one patient I’ll never forget. He had been in a motorcycle accident and was completely bandaged up. He couldn’t speak, so I’d say, “Wiggle your finger this way if you like something, and wiggle it that way if you don’t.” We kind of became friends in a way.
One day, I went to his room, and his bed was empty. I asked the nurse, “Oh, where is Mr. So-and-So?” She just said, “Oh, he’s no longer with us. Keep walking.” At first, I didn’t understand, but then I realized that meant he had died. I thought, “Wow, how cold and uncaring.” But over time, I understood why nurses have to distance themselves emotionally to survive the job.
After that experience, I told my mom, “I can’t be a nurse. This just isn’t for me.”
So at that time, for women, the options were pretty limited. You either went into teaching, nursing, or social work, and that was about it. That’s why I really admire Hillary Clinton. She went to law school, which was such a bold thing to do. But as a poor colored girl, I never thought law school was even a possibility for me.
I’ve always loved being around children and teaching. On Saturdays, I worked for the Parks and Recreation Department, teaching little kids art and taking them hiking in the hills. I loved it. That’s when I decided, “Okay, I’ll be an elementary school teacher.”
When I was a kid, I used to collect Coke bottles — you know, the thick glass ones, since there weren’t any cans back then. You’d get maybe 2 cents a bottle. I’d save up and walk to the Saturday matinee at the Loma Theater, which is a bookstore now. For 25 cents, I could watch a movie. Looking back, I must’ve walked a mile or more to get there. That’s where I first saw Harry Belafonte and Dorothy Dandridge. Dorothy Dandridge was so thin! I remember thinking, “Wow, I look like that!” Up until then, the only Black women I’d seen in movies were larger women, so I had always thought, “I guess I’ll never be an actress.”
But I’d already been doing drama in high school and really excelling at it. The problem was, at my all-white school, the plays were things like Little Women. Obviously, I couldn’t play anyone’s sister in those plays. They just never included me. But my acting teacher, Miss Brody, saw my potential. She encouraged me to compete in citywide speech contests, and I would come back to school with first-place ribbons for poetry, oral interpretation, and dramatic interpretation. That’s when I really caught the acting bug.
Still, my mother was firm. She told me, “You can’t go into acting, and you certainly can’t take singing or dance lessons. We have enough colored people singing and dancing. Get yourself an education. Learn an honest living.” So, I became a teacher.
Yitzi: How did you transition from teaching to acting?
Margaret: While I was in college, Sidney Poitier won an Oscar for Lilies of the Field. Oh my God, I was blown away. Later, when I was teaching, I saw Diahann Carroll starring in Julia, playing a nurse in her own TV series. I thought, “Wow, it’s opening up! TV is starting to change.” At the time, there were no Black people in commercials — none. So seeing her on TV was groundbreaking.
After two years of teaching, I realized, “Hey, I really want to act.” One summer, I went to New York to check out acting classes and see what it would be like to live there. Back then, hotels didn’t use key cards like they do now; they had actual keys. I was staying at the Americana Hotel, waiting for three flight attendant friends to come back so I could stay with them. That first night, I was alone in the hotel.
While I was asleep — or pretending to be asleep, rather — someone came into my room. I could feel them going through my purse and my things. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure they could hear it. They took my money and left. It was terrifying. I checked out the very next day.
When I finally met up with my friends, we were staying on the seventh floor of their apartment, laughing and talking with the window shades open. At one point, we heard a strange popping noise. We didn’t think much of it at the time, but later, we noticed a bullet hole in the window. Can you imagine? A bullet hole! That was another terrifying experience.
The third scary moment was just walking around New York. At that time, we didn’t have homelessness in California, but New York did. People were literally stepping over someone lying down on the sidewalk. I thought, “You know what? I’m not gonna make it in New York.” That’s when I decided to stay in California. And if I was staying in California, film was the only option. So that’s what I pursued.
With tears in my eyes, I told my principal I wouldn’t be back the following year. It took a lot of guts for me to move to L.A., not knowing anyone — not a single relative. But San Diego was only 125 miles away, so I figured if I was really starving, I could find a way to get home.
Once I got to L.A., I just kept studying. I looked for where Black people were training, which, at the time, was in Watts. I took classes there. And before that, when I was in San Francisco and Oakland teaching, I spent weekends doing singing lessons and community plays. On Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, I was singing somewhere — maybe at a club. I wasn’t getting paid much, but I was gaining experience, and all my salary went toward lessons and preparing for a career in entertainment.
In L.A., I relied on substitute teaching to get by. Thank God for my teaching credential! I didn’t want the responsibility of managing a full classroom, so I stuck to subbing. My first acting experience actually came from working with the kids in L.A.
Without seniority, I had to agree to take on any school, any grade. Most of my experience had been with first and second graders, but they gave me the roughest, toughest, and oldest kids. They were supposed to be sixth graders, but most of them had been held back two or three times and should’ve been in middle school. They were rough.
Back then, schools wouldn’t pass you if you didn’t meet the curriculum standards. Today, they just pass kids along because there’s no room to retain them, which is unfortunate. But in those days, kids were older because they weren’t passed on. These kids towered over me. I knew if I didn’t control the classroom, I wouldn’t be called back. And the first thing you have to do as a teacher is control your classroom.
So, I went into full acting mode — talking tough and holding my ground. All of that experience prepared me for the blaxploitation films that eventually came along, where I played hard-nosed prostitutes.
People ask me, “How did teaching prepare you for blaxploitation films?” Well, at that time, you could get away with a lot as a teacher — things you couldn’t do today. I’d tell those kids, “Sit your behind down!” And when they tried to take advantage of me, I became very hard-nosed. That toughness? It carried over into those early film roles.
After the blaxploitation films, the storylines started to open up when television began to expand. I took advantage of those opportunities. I did Kojak and The Streets of San Francisco, which is how I met Michael Douglas and Karl Malden. I also worked with Telly Savalas on Kojak. Oh, I used to get so upset with him!
Back then, guest stars really carried the show. We were in several scenes and did a lot of the heavy lifting. It’s not like today, where there are so many leads, and each lead gets their storyline, leaving guest stars with just one or two scenes. But in the ’70s, if you were a guest star, you were working. I remember one Kojak episode where I was working myself to death — crying, giving it my all — and there was Telly Savalas, just standing there in the scene with his lollipop, saying, “I hear you, baby.” I thought, “I’ll be damned. I’m doing all the work, and he’s getting all the money.”
I did all the sitcoms, too. Sanford and Son, Good Times, and a lot of shows that young people today probably haven’t seen unless they’re on one of those nostalgia channels that air the classics.
Then came The Color Purple, and that’s what really put me on the map. I’d been doing television for about 20 years before that, but The Color Purple was when people really started to notice me.
What got me into film — well, I’d say into A-list films — was a play I did in Los Angeles called The Tiger Wears a Necktie. Clint Eastwood saw me in that play. You may have seen this in my bio — he cast me in Magnum Force, his first Magnum Force movie, where I played a little prostitute. That role really opened the door for me in television. I was very prepared — academically, acting-wise — and I had great tools. Having worked with Clint Eastwood, one of the “good old boys,” gave me credibility, and after that, I worked a lot.
Fast forward 20 years, and along comes The Color Purple. Playing Shug Avery was life-changing. Working with Steven Spielberg was such a beautiful experience because film allows for more time. With television, it’s so fast-paced. You just go in, say your lines, and the director doesn’t have time to direct you. They just want to make sure you look the part and can deliver. The direction you get is usually something like, “On this line, we need you over here, and by the end of the line, be over there.” That’s it.
Blaxploitation films weren’t much better in terms of time or budget. You’d say your lines and hope for another take — maybe praying there was a sound problem or some other issue to give you another shot. But usually, that was it.
By the time The Color Purple came along, I had all that experience — TV, where there was little direction, and blaxploitation films, where you barely got more than one or two takes. So, shooting The Color Purple, with Steven Spielberg giving us 17 takes — that was unheard of! He’d say, “Margaret, take your time.”
Steven was also great at knowing how each of us worked. Whoopi Goldberg, for example, did her best work in the first two or three takes. I, on the other hand, needed to warm up — I got better with more takes. So, Steven would film Whoopi’s close-ups first, and during those takes, I’d be warming up. By the time it was my turn for the close-up, I was ready and “hot to go.”
That’s something I really appreciate in a director — someone who can figure out how I work and adjust accordingly. If I have the choice, I’ll even ask, “Can I be last?” That way, I can take the time I need to fully get into the scene.
After The Color Purple, I was thinking, “Oh, okay, I’m on the map now.” But then — no work. I didn’t work for two or three years after The Color Purple. At that time, there wasn’t anything else for me. I couldn’t even get a manager because they’d say, “Well, what am I gonna do with you?”
How things have changed since then, thank goodness. How did I survive? I did the college lecture circuit. That was my main thing. It was kind of a lucky break for me that the lovely Cicely Tyson — who is no longer with us, bless her heart — was scheduled to do the college circuit. For some reason, she had to bow out, and I ended up taking her place. That opportunity really saved me.
Now, The Color Purple got a lot of criticism. People — particularly men of color — felt it didn’t represent men fairly, that it was unfair. Most of the critics hadn’t even read Alice Walker’s Pulitzer Prize-winning book. They didn’t seem to recognize it as fiction. But I could understand why there were frustrations. Black people wanted something as powerful as film to represent them positively, because we didn’t have much of that back then — not since Sounder, and Sounder had come out eight years earlier.
If you’ve ever seen Sounder, you know how uplifting it is. It’s about a Black family, and it’s such a powerful story. So, to see The Color Purple after Sounder — I mean, it was jarring for some. People even picketed the film. That was disappointing. I remember the NAACP picketed one of the screenings, which was upsetting, but then the Los Angeles chapter of the NAACP turned around and nominated us for awards. It didn’t make any sense — it was such a contradictory time.
Yitzi: Can you tell us a bit about what you are doing now?
Margaret: So, let me talk about where I am now. I’ve been very fortunate to keep working. There have been slow points, of course, but I’ve been lucky enough to survive five strikes — some of them very long ones. It’s truly been a blessing to hold onto my home.
I remember one particularly long stretch — about nine years — where work was extremely slow. During that time, I decided to rent out my house, live in the guest apartment, and go back to school. Not for any career reasons, but because I missed thinking and talking about something outside of the industry.
I went to California State University, Northridge to check out my daughter’s curriculum. She had gone to college in Atlanta, and I wanted to see how many of her classes would transfer if she decided to come back to California. While I was on campus, I could feel the energy of the place — the youth, the education, the learning — and it really excited me.
I was sitting in the counselor’s office on my daughter’s behalf, but I thought to myself, “God, I’d love to come back to school.” But then I thought, “How could I? I can’t commit to Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes and still try to work in case something comes up in film.”
The counselor said, “Why don’t you check out California Family Studies (aka Phllips Graduate Institute)?” That’s what it was called at the time. He told me where the building was — it was this little, unassuming place that you’d never notice.
I went in and sat down on a small bench where people register for classes. On the wall, there was this big poster featuring Virginia Satir, a highly accomplished psychologist. I started reading about her, and the words were so uplifting. There was something spiritual about it, something I really needed in my life.
I asked how much it cost to attend, and when they told me, I thought, “Oh no, I could never afford this.” As I walked out to the parking lot, I happened to be walking alongside a man with a briefcase. I said out loud, “God, I’d love to go here.” And he said, “Why don’t you apply for a scholarship?” I thought, “Oh, that’s an idea.” So, I applied.
That decision led me to an entire school of psychology, and I learned so much about myself. What it means to grow up as an only child in poverty, how your childhood shapes your adulthood — things like that. Some of the coping mechanisms you develop as a child to protect yourself don’t always serve you as an adult. I also learned what it means to be a middle child or to hide your feelings. There was just so much I gained from that experience.
I even learned why I might be attracted to alcoholics — because my mother was an alcoholic. I could go on and on about all the things I discovered. But learning about myself and trying to grow from that knowledge, it completely changed my life.
Now, let me tell you how God works in my life. I never expected to use that kind of education in the way I did. At one point, they asked me, “Do you want to get a master’s degree?” And I thought, “A master’s? Oh, no, I don’t want to get a master’s.” But then they explained, “Well, if you want to see clients, you have to get a master’s degree.”
So, I decided to go for it. I started seeing clients as part of the school program, and I realized, “Hey, I’m not too bad at this therapy thing.” A lot of what you learn as an actor — like reading behavior and listening to people — turns out to be very useful as a therapist.
I started taking on clients, and to my surprise, they kept coming back. I ended up with quite a few clients, and I thought, “Wow, maybe I really can be a therapist.” I even gave myself a little pat on the back for that.
After I graduated, they suggested, “Maybe you should get a PhD.” And I was like, “Oh, no, come on, Margaret. You can’t afford to go to school forever. Get a job.”
So, I went back to L.A. and started working with the L.A. Unified School District. I worked with kids, but it was in a psychology-related position.
Yitzi: Can you please tell us about your latest show, A Man on the Inside?
Margaret: We’re working with Ted Danson. Ted was just wonderful — a beautiful human being. I can understand why he’s still working; he’s so talented and makes it look easy.
He disguises his character as a resident in an assisted living facility, but he’s really a detective, hired to find out who’s stealing the jewelry. The wonderful thing about this experience was that we were all older people — the people from the ’70s who started our careers back then.
In between shots, we had so many stories to share, which was beautiful. Oh, and it’s a Netflix limited series. It’s going to air November 21st, the first Thursday before Thanksgiving.
I just hope it’s not going to air every Thursday, because the following Thursday is Thanksgiving, and I’m not sure if people will even watch it then. But with streaming now, if people miss the shows, they’ll probably still be able to catch them.
What else can I say? I enjoyed it. I got to work with Sally Struthers, which was amazing — I’ve always wanted to meet her. I’m just happy to still be working, and I’m looking forward to being the next Betty White and Cicely Tyson.
Yitzi: Sure. This is our final aspirational question. Because of your great work and the platform you’ve built, you’re a person of enormous influence. If you could spread an idea that would bring the most good to the most people, what would that idea be?
Margaret: If I could spread an idea that would bring the most good to the most people? Particularly in today’s world, with the recent election and the division we’re facing, I’d love to create something that makes people focus on their similarities rather than their differences. Because united, we will continue to make America the great country it is.
If we’re divided, we’re going to fall — and that’s exactly what our adversaries want. I believe God made us all, and fighting doesn’t solve anything. That’s really what I can say right now.
Yitzi: How can our readers watch your latest work?
Margaret: Well, they’ve got to have Netflix. That’s all I know, because it’s a Netflix show. Eventually, maybe it’ll show up on other platforms. I’ve heard that sometimes Peacock does this, or another service does something else, and then it ends up on Netflix or HBO. But for now, it’s on Netflix — streaming services, you know.
Yitzi: Margaret, thank you so much for this amazing interview. You’ve shared such great stories, and I’m excited to publish this article.
Margaret: Well, I’ll say one thing — you’re a great listener.
Yitzi: Thank you. I find that’s the trick — not to interrupt. Just let it pour out, you know? You did a perfect job, Margaret. Really, it’s an honor to meet you.
Margaret: Really nice to meet you too.
Margaret Avery’s Unstoppable Journey: Acting, Advocacy, and a Legacy of Resilience was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.