Bess Wohl on Feminism, Nudity, and Time Travel in Her New Broadway Play

Bess Wohl’s new Broadway play, Liberation, which has received critical acclaim, was a project she worked on for nearly two decades. She first began considering a play about the women’s liberation movement of the 1970s around 20 years ago.

For most of my career as a writer, I’ve been fascinated by trying to understand this – not because of any political drive, but purely for personal reasons. That’s what she shared with me recently during a video call.

Today, Liberation appears in a world that has, in many ways, taken a surprising step backward – with the overturning of Roe v. Wade and the growing popularity of the “tradwife” lifestyle. This makes the project feel incredibly timely. However, the production doesn’t try to explain the current situation. Instead, it thoughtfully explores the history that led us to this point.

The play begins with Susannah Flood, acting as the narrator, speaking directly to the audience. She explains she’ll be telling the story of her mother, Lizzie (also played by Flood), and the consciousness-raising group Lizzie started in the basement of an Ohio recreation center. The director, Whitney White, creates an immersive experience, bringing us into that room to meet the women involved—including a dissatisfied housewife (Betsy Aidem), a woman juggling caring for her sick mother with writing about radical feminism (Kristolyn Lloyd), and an Italian immigrant in a marriage for legal reasons (Irene Sofia Lucio). Throughout the play, Flood frequently breaks character to offer commentary and connect the past to the present, prompting questions about relationships and whether things could have been different.

Natalie Wohl’s play, Liberation, is unique in how it handles time and breaks traditional theatrical rules—for example, actors play several different characters. This creates a powerfully emotional experience, not only for those on stage, but also for the audience. In a recent interview with TIME, Wohl explained how she finalized the story and her thoughts on the deeply personal discussions the play is generating.

TIME: What made you want to write this?

Growing up, my mom’s work at Ms. magazine exposed me to the core beliefs of second-wave feminism and women’s liberation, and I embraced them. I fondly remember spending time in her office, playing with toys under a large Wonder Woman poster while she worked. As I got older and experienced life – getting married, having children, and pursuing a career – I began to personally grapple with those feminist ideas. I started questioning what aspects still felt right, what needed to be rethought, and how these principles could actually be applied to everyday life.

What has been your relationship to second wave feminism? It has gotten a bad rap over the years.

I wanted to make sure I included everything important in the play, even though it’s a lot to fit in – and truthfully, it’s impossible to include everything. I enjoy challenging myself with ambitious tasks when I write, and then sharing the result. Growing up, I was taught that boys and girls are equal, and that gender shouldn’t limit anyone. I listened to the album Free to Be… You and Me constantly. But as I’ve gotten older, especially after becoming a mother, I’ve realized, like one of my characters says, that expectations and rules aren’t actually equal for everyone, and they likely never will be. That line often resonates with audiences, and I think people are understanding that truth in a new way now.

How did you crack what the play was going to be? Because the structure is so unique. It’s a memory play that’s not actually a memory because the narrator is the daughter of the woman whose story she is telling.

The play truly came alive for me once I understood the narrator’s role. Initially, I thought it was simply a story about a group of women in the 1970s striving for change, and it is, but the character who travels through time—and portrays her own mother—adds a layer that connects the story to the present day. The play resonated deeply with my own life, particularly my internal struggle to avoid repeating my mother’s path. Like me, my mother was a writer, and I briefly pursued acting as a way to forge my own identity. Having a character physically represent that long-held personal conflict felt incredibly impactful.

How much did the regression women are experiencing in this moment influence the play?

Honestly, I feel like this play was always going to happen – it’s deeply rooted in my own life story. But I couldn’t have predicted how incredibly relevant it would become, especially with everything happening with women’s rights right now. It’s really amplified the play’s impact. What’s amazing is the audience – they’re coming in prepared to connect with the material and, more importantly, to really talk about it. It feels like a conversation waiting to happen.

When I saw the play, a woman in the audience actually consoled the narrator when she mentioned on stage that her mother was no longer alive. How have you experienced the audience reaction?

I’ve noticed that too – people feel invested and comfortable expressing themselves when they feel like they belong. I wish that happened more often in the theater. That separation between performers and audience – the ‘fourth wall’ – can be isolating, because theater is really about community. We’re all sharing this unique moment in time and space, and it will never happen exactly this way again. When a performance truly connects with people and inspires them to participate and share their own voices, it’s a truly special experience.

What was your research process beyond your personal experience?

I’d done a lot of research through old magazines and books, but the biggest breakthrough came from talking directly to women who had been involved in the second-wave feminist movement, especially those in consciousness-raising groups. One conversation would lead to another, as they’d recommend I speak with someone else. This helped me understand these women as individuals, beyond what I could find in historical accounts. Hearing their personal stories really brought things to life and made me feel connected to them. It felt like they gave me the confidence and genuine foundation I needed to write the play.

The play is very explicit about your own limitations as a white woman telling this story. How did you approach that?

The research was incredibly helpful, particularly connecting me with Celestine Ware. She was a Black feminist writer, now deceased, whose work provided the core ideas and understanding I needed to develop the character of Celeste, played by Kristolyn Lloyd. Knowing her work was rooted in reality gave me a sense of creative freedom I truly appreciated.

The play’s structure directly explores these ideas by having actors play several different characters. This theatrical approach questions the nature of identity and whether we can truly change who we are. I aimed to represent this honestly, while acknowledging the limits of my own perspective. I especially appreciated Whitney’s direction of keeping Susannah Flood onstage throughout the entire performance. This choice emphasized that the story unfolds as a fever dream, and that sense is woven into the presentation.

At the top of the second act, the women all appear nude and discuss their bodies. How did that come about?

Talking to these incredible women, and then diving into their writings, really sparked something in me. I realized their voices were absolutely essential to the project, a key part of their lasting impact. I knew including this element would be a bold move – it could even shock some people – so we approached it with a lot of care and intention. There’s a particular scene with nude women onstage, but it’s about reclaiming their power, not objectifying them. It’s about showing that women’s bodies can simply exist in a space, as subjects, not objects, and I wanted the audience to witness that firsthand.

Because of the nude scene, the audience members have to put their phones away in Yondr pouches, which are locked for the duration of the show. It really makes you connect with the play.

I didn’t expect that disconnecting from technology would be such a powerful part of seeing this play. It’s really about creating space for genuine, meaningful conversations – the kind the characters share, and what we hope the audience will experience too. Putting your phone away helps create that environment. We’ve heard from people that even during intermission, they had surprisingly deep and fulfilling conversations when they weren’t distracted by their phones.

What have been some of the most surprising reactions you’ve heard?

Many audience members have told us this play makes them want to connect with their mothers – either by calling them, revisiting the relationship, or simply thinking about it differently. It’s wonderful that the play inspires such personal reflection and action. We’ve also heard from people who say it’s changed how they view their relationships with their partners. What’s really striking is how deeply the play resonates with individual lives and experiences. While it certainly raises important political issues, the incredibly personal responses have been the most unexpected and rewarding part.

Has it transformed the way you think about your relationship with your own mother?

The play really made me think about whether we can truly see our mothers as individuals, separate from their role as moms. It’s been powerful to look back and consider my own mother as a young woman starting her life, and it’s changed how I see her. As Betsy Aidem says in the play, mothers often wonder if they’ve shared enough of themselves. It’s a tough balance, and now that I’m a mom to three daughters, I find myself asking the same questions – am I sharing too much, or not enough? Will my daughters ever see me as someone beyond just ‘mom,’ and is that even appropriate? Being able to recognize my mother’s full humanity and understand her choices has been incredibly meaningful and has strengthened our relationship.

2025-11-04 20:07