Interview: Irene Sofía Lucio on Liberation and the Power of Ordinary Women

Bess Wohl’s play Liberation has a way of sneaking up on you.

Before long, what begins as a play about women in Ohio in the early days of second-wave feminism turns into something far more personal, an excavation of mothers and grandmothers, and the ways that everyday lives can carry weight just by being normal. Since arriving on Broadway after a run at Roundabout’s Laura Pels Theatre, Whitney White’s production has sparked passionate responses from women in the audience, but its reach has proved far broader.

Irene Sofia Lucio, who plays firebrand Isidora, has been hearing of the play’s importance night after night at the stage door, but she’s realized that it’s just as vital in her off-stage life. As Liberation enters its final weeks on Broadway,  we spoke with her about giving voice to overlooked histories, how the play has grown over time, and why its quiet revolution resonates so deeply right now.

This conversation has been condensed and edited for clarity.

The great response to Liberation from female audience members must feel significant for all of you.
It feels very validating that so many women are feeling seen. So many people feel like, “Why haven’t we had this conversation before?” Or, “Why haven’t we had this conversation enough?”

Which conversation are you talking about? There are so many different things to take from the show.
That’s a very good point. A lot of people are bringing up their relationship to their mothers and grandmothers, and how much they value them. The play has motherhood in its heart, and everyone has a different relationship to their mother, whether their mother was present or not, and to the concept of motherhood and mothering. So much of that role is undervalued or not valued by capitalism [and no one realizes] how much effort goes into caretaking, whether it be with your own parents or with little ones.

The surprise, for me, was feeling that connection to my mother. I don’t think I’ve ever asked her what it was like for a woman of her generation.
It gives actual faces to the women in everyone’s lives and what their role was in a big revolution, as opposed to making it about the figureheads of the second-wave feminists. This isn’t about Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan; this is about regular women in Ohio trying to carve out change in their own way. I heard about someone’s mom who was the first female paper delivery person, and there’s something incredibly special in that. All of these acts may seem small, but they’re actually revolutionary.

Has the vibe felt different on Broadway?
Absolutely. One of the ways is just simply having the luxury of getting a second stab at the play. The work that we did at Roundabout was already there and we got to create deeper and deeper roots into each of these characters and their dynamics. The space is bigger, the sound is better, we are mic’ed. That alone is reaching audiences in a new way. The fact that very comfortably from wherever they’re seated, they can get every single word is already a change.

I thought the bigger space was going to take away from the intimacy that we had at Roundabout, but it’s made me realize that the play, in its quiet revolution, has these Greek-level moments of feeling and hubris and catharsis and that a huge space actually fills it.

So much of the conversation is about female responses to the play. What have you heard from men?
At the stage door, I’ve had a lot of men bring up how it’s contextualized their mothers’ lives. A person came up to me and said they a very hard time with their parents’ divorce, and this has given them a whole new layer of understanding, which was incredibly poignant to me.

I also have had challenging conversations in my own life. My husband brought a cousin of his, and I remember they were like, “But our moms were the boss in our house.”  And I went, “I think you need to see this play again.” That’s just what they were given and oftentimes they were assuming that role because nobody else was going to do it. Did you ever ask them how they felt about it?

Tell me about your own mom.
She lives in Puerto Rico, where I was born and raised. I wish she was closer, but we make a point of seeing each other, and we Facetime every morning, with my son.

Good. I left home at 18 and moved to New York and saw my parents many times a year, but it’s different when you’re thinking about the day-to-day.
Yeah. She’s coming in the winter. I’m very excited to see her. And she loved Liberation. I dedicated the character to her because Isidora reminds me a lot of my mom.

You drew from her.
I’ve stolen so much it’s reprehensible!

What a compliment.
Absolutely. Isidora is a bad-ass and she’s fabulous, so I think my mom’s like “Oh, wow.” She’s calling her own shots, you know? She really is.

Why did you decide to become an actor?
I had a family that loved throwing plays for our family members. My older sister in particular, would direct us all. I was the shy sibling, and I had a shame around that. I had shame that I was not able to show up for everybody in that way. Later on, when I was eight or nine,  I started expressing my frustration to my mom that I wasn’t able to be in plays at school.  She was like, well, have you raised your hand in school to tell somebody that you want to be in a play? And I was like, I have not.

I think around fifth grade, I raised my hand. This teacher probably took pity on me and gave me a nice part in a tiny, classroom play. I worked so hard on it because I found it to be this personal challenge  of beating this anxiety, this fear, that I had. The teacher saw something in me and started putting me in the school musicals. Within like two years, she cast me as the lead of the whole school musical. I was Annie when I was 11 or 12.