Darwin Del Fabro is no stranger to breaking boundaries on stage and screen. Best known to U.S. audiences for her chilling turn in Blumhouse and Peacock’s They/Them, where she starred opposite Kevin Bacon and Carrie Preston, the Brazilian-born actress, singer, writer, and producer continues to prove herself as a fearless storyteller. Now, she’s bringing her most personal work yet to the New York stage.
This summer, Del Fabro will premiere her solo play LILI/DARWIN at The Tank in New York City, opened on August 2, 2025. Both intimate and bold, the piece explores identity, resilience, and self-discovery through her own deeply personal lens. For an artist whose career has always been defined by versatility and authenticity, this new chapter feels like both a homecoming and a daring leap forward.
From captivating audiences in Brazil with her musical performances to navigating complex roles in film and television, Del Fabro has consistently blended vulnerability with undeniable strength. With LILI/DARWIN, she not only shares her artistry but also her truth — inviting audiences into a dialogue that is as relevant as it is heartfelt.
As she prepares to take the stage, OUCH! MAGAZINE sat down with Darwin Del Fabro to talk about her inspirations, her journey, and the stories she’s most passionate about telling.
Your new solo play, LILI/DARWIN, seems like a deeply personal project. Can you share with us how this play came to life and what motivated you to bring these themes to the stage?
LILI/DARWIN was born out of necessity. I first encountered Lili Elbe’s diaries when I was thirteen and didn’t yet have the words for what I was feeling. Her story haunted me—not just as a trans pioneer, but as a human being grasping for language, freedom, and dignity. Years later, after my own transition and return to the stage, I realized I could no longer separate my art from my truth. This play became a space where I could honor both.
As a Brazilian-born actor, your journey is shaped by a rich cultural background. How does your heritage inform your approach to gender and identity, both in your art and your personal life?
Brazil is a land of contradictions—immense beauty, creativity, and resilience, alongside deep-rooted conservatism. Growing up there taught me how to live between extremes and how to survive while dreaming. That duality is central to how I express gender and identity: always fluid, always resisting boxes, but always with passion.
In your role on They/Them, you were part of an important conversation surrounding LGBTQ+ representation. How did that experience shape your views on the intersection of gender, identity, and art?
They/Them gave me the opportunity to explore queerness through a genre lens—horror—and yet my favorite part was the quiet intimacy of the character. It made me realize how powerful representation can be when it’s nuanced. That experience deepened my belief that art isn’t just a mirror; it’s a tool for reimagining who gets to be seen and how.
The play is described as exploring the complex relationship between your alter ego, Lili, and yourself, Darwin. Can you tell us more about the significance of this duality in your story and how it reflects your understanding of gender?
I don’t see Lili as an alter ego—I see her as a companion, a shadow, and sometimes a mirror. The duality is not a split, but a dance between selves. Gender, for me, has never been linear. It’s memory, instinct, performance, and liberation all at once. LILI/DARWIN is where those threads meet.
Gender is often portrayed in very binary ways in mainstream media, but your work has challenged these conventions. How does LILI/DARWIN contribute to breaking down those barriers and fostering a more inclusive conversation around gender fluidity?
By refusing to simplify. LILI/DARWIN doesn’t offer neat answers or tidy resolutions. It asks questions. It complicates. It invites the audience to sit with discomfort, tenderness, and transformation. I hope it opens space—for more questions, more stories, more possibilities.
Many artists are now embracing vulnerability in their work, especially in relation to gender and identity. How has being vulnerable in your performance process helped you connect with audiences and reclaim aspects of yourself?
Vulnerability was the only way I could write this play. Not as a tactic, but as truth. There are parts of the show I wasn’t sure I’d be strong enough to say out loud—but saying them gave me back a sense of wholeness. Audiences don’t connect to perfection—they connect to honesty. And in that shared space, something healing happens.
Brazil is often seen as a country with complex views on gender and sexuality. How have your experiences there shaped your understanding of these issues, and how do they come through in your play?
Brazil taught me how dangerous it can be to live outside the norm—but also how vital it is to do so. I carry both the trauma and the joy of growing up queer in Brazil. In the play, you feel that tension—the fear of being seen, the ache of invisibility, and the radical act of choosing visibility anyway.
8n the context of your solo play, what do you hope people will walk away understanding or feeling about the fluidity of gender and the human experience?
I hope they walk away softened. Not convinced, not instructed—just more open. Gender isn’t a concept to debate; it’s a life to live. If the play helps someone see themselves—or someone they love—with more empathy, then it’s done its job.
You’ve been vocal about using your platform to explore difficult subjects, including gender identity. How do you approach sensitive topics in a way that feels authentic, yet respectful to those who may relate to your story?
I don’t speak for anyone but myself. That’s the key. I root everything in personal truth and invite others to find their own connections. It’s about sharing, not declaring. I always try to hold space for complexity—no one experience defines us all.
What has the process of creating LILI/DARWIN taught you about yourself, and how do you envision this play sparking a wider conversation about gender beyond the stage?
It taught me I don’t need to apologize for existing in-between. That the things I was once most afraid to reveal are the ones that now give me strength. As for the wider conversation—I hope LILI/DARWIN is a ripple. A reminder that trans stories are human stories, and that theatre, at its best, is a place where truth can be both deeply personal and wildly universal.
