Kemra Norsworthy isn’t supposed to be here. Not in the male-dominated private lending industry. Not in business ownership, given a childhood that began in poverty and could have defined her future. And not in this life, where a brutal diagnosis should have ended everything.

No, Norsworthy’s path has never been smooth. But that’s never stopped her.

Clear Roads Ahead

A fearless approach coupled with resiliency has been the foundation for Norsworthy’s success, from her early days in collections to more than a decade in private lending.

After graduating from college (the first in her family), her work in the finance industry began with a job at a Washington-based collection agency. Learning firsthand the art of negotiation, the subtleties of risk—and the realities of human nature—she found herself dissatisfied with the process. “It’s not that the people don’t owe the money … I wanted to get the money [the right way],” she said. “You get more bees with honey than you do vinegar.”

In 1995, she decided to buy a collection agency so she could do things her way, saying, “Working for a collection agency, I’m going to make money. Being the bill collector with my own company? I’m going to make more money.”

Bump

Her path roughened when her third pregnancy put her on bedrest. Unable to directly manage her employees—essential in collections—she sold the company in 2000 but found herself at loose ends following the birth of her son.

“It’s hard for me to not work. I wasn’t providing for myself … So I got into selling cars,” Norsworthy said.

While it’s yet another traditionally male-dominated field (especially in Arlington, Washington, which leans heavily toward dually trucks), Norsworthy found immediate success selling Dodge/Chrysler/Jeep by leaning into perceptions. She credits her number one standing at the dealership to both her associates and clients overlooking her skill as a negotiator.

She earned top billing at the dealership for three years before life again derailed her plans, stepping away to care for the grandfather who raised her until he passed a few months later. When the dealership tried to bring her back, she refused, saying simply, “They wouldn’t give me family leave.”

From there, she landed in the mortgage industry, first working at a net branch for Select Mortgage and later Bank of America—and then as an underwriter for Bank of America. Then in 2014 she moved to originating commercial loans for Bank of America and Wells Fargo.

“I used to ask my underwriter at one of those banks, ‘Do you get paid on no’s?’” she recalls, referring to her deals being turned down. “He was taken aback, but I explained that I was just curious because he was saying ‘no’ to my deals.”

Her next not-question to the underwriter: “I want you to tell me how to get the ‘yes’ so it’s not your decision or my decision to say ‘no.’ It’s up to the borrower.”

His return: The bank was simply not going to approve the fix-and-flip loans coming across her desk. But she still wanted that “yes,” and found a way to get it.

“The deals weren’t bad—they ended up being done by someone else who was willing to restructure them,” she recalled. “So long as [the bank] denied them, I could then do a private loan … I’d do the takeout with that loan through the big bank, so then I wasn’t in direct competition.”

However, when she became the banks’ number one originator for her region, they changed the terms: She now had to be in the office five days a week. Norsworthy, a wanderer who loved to travel with her kids and who still managed that top originator rank despite frequent excursions, had other life priorities. She left her national bank relationships for a familiar outfit: Our industry’s Builders Capital.

Her start date as their newest sales executive? February 2020.

Curfew (Temporary) In Effect

While on pandemic unemployment and never a stranger to starting from scratch, she resolved to turn her old private lending side gig into a real business.

“I went with the name Bull Funding because you have bull and bear markets, and bull is always what an investor wants,” she explained.

At Bull Funding, Norsworthy and her team provide real estate investors with financing for fix-and-flip loans, ground-up construction, commercial property financing, and more. (As you may guess, her “yes” mantra means she also dabbles in everything from SBA loans to HUD ground-up construction.)

The Seattle-based business grew quickly, funding deals across the country and standing out for its directness in a field that often moves too opaquely for investors’ needs.

No Outlet

In 2023 and after weeks of severe pain, Norsworthy was diagnosed with uterine cancer. Post-hysterectomy, doctors found it was instead advanced ovarian cancer. Then, another hit—a tumor the size of a grapefruit in her liver, metastasized from a rare kidney tumor the Mayo Clinic noted was only the 21st case in 60 years.

“They told me I was going to die,” she said bluntly. “And to get my stuff in order … go take my last vacation. I refused chemo because the prognosis was three months. Three months of being sick from chemo just to live for three months more? No, I wanted to live and do whatever I possibly could … I had my kids here, and friends and family.

“But when a doctor tells you that you’re going to die, it is nearly impossible to live your life to the fullest like people say that you can,” she said. “You can’t. Psychologically, you begin the process of dying.”

So with her trademark drive—dare we say, bullheadedness—Norsworthy prepared for the end. She made sure nothing was left unsaid with family and friends, got her finances in order, structured her company for transition, took care of all the things she said should have done before—and faced the reality that her time was up: “I was prepared to die. I was ready to die. I had accepted it. And then … I didn’t. I lived.”

One Final Detour

Between one screening and the next, Norsworthy received staggering news the cancer had disappeared. Every subsequent scan has received the all-clear, and she’s currently just over a year in remission.

Which begs the question: When you, your family, your friends, and your employees have truly accepted the end of something, planned for it, said your goodbyes, and quite literally wrapped up all the loose ends—then it doesn’t happen—then what?

“I had comes to terms with it. I had cleared everything,” she said. “You know, when you tell everyone you’re going to die, and you live like you’re going to die, and then you just live. That is the worst humility I think I could have ever gone through my whole life.

“And then there’s … my friends, my family; there’s a process as they’re already grieving this death, and then you don’t die. We’re not as close as we used to be, because I think there’s a part of them that had let go.”

Intersection Ahead

The experience fundamentally changed her, not just physically but, she feels, the core of who she is as a person.

“I have more humility now—in every part of my life,” she admits. “Before, I had an ego. Now, I’m more patient.

“I used to say that I would have to get hit with a two by four,” Norsworthy added. “And I still wouldn’t listen. So then, God would give me a six by six and slap me up side the head, and that would get my attention. That’s not what’s happening anymore.”

For two years while she battled her illness through multiple surgeries (or as Norsworthy candidly puts it, “while I was busy dying”), the company she built was in limbo. Her youngest son had stepped in to run it but ultimately decided not to continue.

When Norsworthy unexpectedly found life ahead of her, she was left with a decision: Walk away or rebuild Bull Funding? She chose to rebuild.

“I’ve had relationships with other companies to do loans as a correspondent or table funder. … I’m able to rebuild those relationships and step back in exactly where I was before because I have a good reputation,” she said. “I don’t have self-doubt. I don’t think it’s going to take me very long, because I’m in a different place mentally.”

Something else that has changed since the days before Norsworthy’s diagnosis?

“I’m not so interested in trying to reinvent the wheel now,” she said. “The wheel has been invented. Sometimes I just need to change a tread. It’s taken me a long time to figure that out.”

Work Zone

In 2021 and before her diagnosis, Norsworthy moved to Utah after attending a mastermind event.

“The area is beautiful, and I thought it would be easier to create a fund here. Utah is corporation-friendly,” she said. The expansion beyond Seattle was a strategic move to position Bull Funding for growth. Now, the company provides private loans across the nation, allowing Norsworthy and her team to fund more deals and support a wider range of investors.

With Bull Funding operating in multiple states, Norsworthy has had to ensure her team stays aligned, despite being spread out.

“Communication, availability, and team-building experiences here in Utah keep us connected,” she said.

That clarity and accessibility have helped her business maintain the strong client relationships that set it apart. In an industry where trust is everything, being responsive and straightforward has been her greatest asset.

“Money comes from the same place … The difference is who trusts you to handle it,” she said, noting that opportunities are plentiful.

One strategy Norsworthy claims is critical is her ability to network and reach out to her peers. She leans on her membership in the American Association of Private Lenders—calling it “one of the best investments I have made”—to stay up to date on industry trends and connect with fellow lenders. She’s served on AAPL’s Ethics Committee since 2021, encouraging industry professionals to adhere to high standards of practice.

Speed Limit: Unknown

Norsworthy’s next move is even bigger. She is in the process of raising $50 million for a new fund, a major step in expanding Bull Funding’s reach and influence.

“I’ve been an AAPL Certified Fund Manager for years, but now it’s official,” she said. “This year, I will have my own fund.”

Before her diagnosis, Norsworthy wanted to create a fund on her own—and said she knew she still could. But she’s discovered she doesn’t want to.

“I’m not a pillar, you know? I need all the legs on the chair to do it,” she says of her goal. “I used to think I had to do everything myself. Now, I know I don’t. I need a team, all the legs on the chair.”

Her latest flurry of activity isn’t just about business growth; it’s a statement. She built this business once. She lost it. And now she is building it again, stronger—and on her terms.

While some may call Norsworthy’s story one of survival, she has a different take.

“I don’t think I’m a survivor, as if my life has been tragic. I think it’s tenacity to make it through. That’s different.”

She was never supposed to be here. But she is. And she’s making sure she stays.