Darwin Del Fabro on ‘Lili / Darwin,’ Gender, and the Power of Telling Her Own Story

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Wehad the pleasure of talking with Darwin Del Fabro. Darwin is a Brazilian-born performer, writer, and producer whose artistic trajectory bridges continents, languages, and disciplines. Now based in New York City, Del Fabro has emerged as a distinctive creative voice in American theater and music, building a career that spans stage, screen, and recorded sound. Her latest work, Lili / Darwin, a solo theatrical piece premiering in August 2025 at The Tank in Manhattan, signals both a return to the stage and a significant personal milestone. Written and performed by Del Fabro, the play fuses her own life story with the historical narrative of Lili Elbe, one of the first known recipients of gender-affirming surgery, offering a meditation on identity, transformation, and visibility.

Del Fabro was born in the southern region of Brazil and moved to Rio de Janeiro at age 12 to live with her father, a former model. Immersed early in the city’s artistic and fashion communities, she began performing in theater and on television as a teenager. By the age of 13, she had appeared in Brazilian productions of Shrek the Musical, The Wizard of Oz, and Fiddler on the Roof, and went on to gain wider recognition for her role in Ligações Perigosas, a television series adapted from Les Liaisons Dangereuses.

In pursuit of further artistic training, Del Fabro relocated to New York at 18, earning a scholarship to study at the Broadway Dance Center. Despite an already extensive background in theater and literature — she also holds a degree in Portuguese literature — she viewed the opportunity as a way to expand her expressive vocabulary. Originally slated to complete the program in a year, she finished in six months, doubling her course load and taking as many as 28 classes per week. The experience, she has said, was her introduction to the relentless pace and ambition that characterizes the New York arts scene.

Since then, Del Fabro’s career has included an array of performances across genres. Her stage roles in New York have ranged from Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream to original parts in new plays such as The Feather Doesn’t Fall Far From the Wing at Signature Theatre and Real at The Tank. In 2022, she made her U.S. feature film debut in the Peacock-released horror movie They/Them, produced by Blumhouse, marking her first major American screen credit.

Del Fabro’s musical pursuits run parallel to her acting work. Her discography includes multiple albums that blend American and Brazilian traditions, often weaving together English and Portuguese lyrics. Projects such as Be Careful, It’s My Heart, Darwin Del Fabro in Rio, and the Revisiting Jobim and Revisiting Elis Regina series reflect her interest in cross-cultural musical dialogue, as well as her reverence for classic Brazilian composers.

Her forthcoming solo play Lili / Darwin is arguably her most personal work to date. Directed by Meghan Finn, artistic director of The Tank, the production is part of LimeFest, a summer showcase of work by women, nonbinary, and gender-nonconforming artists. The play, which interlaces Elbe’s early 20th-century diary entries with Del Fabro’s own contemporary reflections, represents her first return to live performance since undergoing gender-affirming surgeries. Describing the piece as “a reintroduction to myself,” Del Fabro draws parallels between her own life and that of Elbe, particularly around questions of self-determination, bodily autonomy, and public perception.

The decision to write and perform Lili / Darwin followed a two-year hiatus during which Del Fabro stepped back from performing to undergo a series of surgeries and reflect on her role as an artist. That period, she has said, helped crystallize her desire to use theater as a platform for empathy and connection, rather than persuasion. Though the play explores transgender identity, she does not regard it as a polemic. “It’s not about delivering a message,” she said. “It’s about being seen.”

Del Fabro has spoken candidly about her transition, describing it as both an act of personal affirmation and artistic evolution. She chose to retain her given name, Darwin — a decision she links to the idea of growth and becoming. “I love the idea of evolution,” she said. “Even though I’ve struggled with dysphoria, I’ve always been a strong person. The versions of me that existed before this one — they’re part of who I am.”

That continuity of self is a theme she frequently returns to, both in her public comments and her work. Whether referencing the sunrises of Rio de Janeiro or the demands of New York theater, Del Fabro sees each phase of her life as linked by a common drive to create and survive. Raised in a supportive family — her father and late stepmother were both models — she credits early encouragement from her parents and the queer community with helping her chart a path in often unwelcoming spaces.

In discussing her artistic process, Del Fabro is quick to embrace vulnerability and experimentation. “I make mistakes all the time,” she said. “That’s the point of being an artist. We fail, we learn, we rewrite. The play I’m working on now is exactly that — a constant process of revision.”

She also speaks often about influence and legacy. Her stepmother, who died shortly before she moved to New York, remains a central figure in her memory, a symbol of strength and determination. Del Fabro also acknowledges the broader lineage of LGBTQ+ pioneers whose work created space for voices like hers. “We’re not like everyone else,” she said. “We’re fighters. We’re strong. We keep going.”

Lili / Darwin runs from August 2 to August 23, 2025, at The Tank Theatre in New York. For Del Fabro, the production is not only a return to performance but a reaffirmation of her purpose. “I just want to be here,” she said. “To tell my story, and connect.”

Darwin Del Fabro, it’s an honor to meet you. Before we dive in deep, our readers would love to learn about Darwin Del Fabro’s personal origin story. Can you share with us the story of your childhood and how you grew up?

Darwin: I’m Brazilian. I was born in the south of Brazil and moved to Rio de Janeiro when I was 12 because my dad lives there. I started working in theater, music, and did some soap operas. I also recorded albums. When I was 18, I moved to New York, and I’ve been here ever since.

Unbelievable. You probably have some amazing stories from all the different places you’ve been and all the different projects you’ve worked on. Can you share one or two that stand out in your mind from your professional career?

Darwin: That’s a hard question. One or two… I hate to create expectations around my life and the things I’ve lived. I think I’m a fighter, a survivor. Every part of my journey has been an act of resistance. Growing up queer in Rio de Janeiro, in Brazil, I didn’t know much then about the person I would become. But looking back, I have great memories.

I had the support of my family. My dad always gave me the freedom to express myself and be who I was. Still, even when you’re surrounded by family and friends, sometimes you just lock yourself in your apartment. For me, theater, writing, and singing became my escape.

I was always surrounded by artists. My stepmother, who raised me, was a model. My dad was also a model — they met in New York. So I was always in that artistic world in Brazil. When I moved to New York, I received a scholarship for dancing, actually. I had graduated in Portuguese literature, and I’d been working in theater since I was 13. But dancing was one skill I wanted to improve.

I got a scholarship at the Broadway Dance Center. I was supposed to be there for a year, taking 18 classes a week, but I finished in six months and doubled it — I was doing 28 classes a week. That was fun. It was an introduction to how fast-paced New York is, but also the pace I enjoy working at.

In Brazil, I like to hold on to the good memories of my childhood, especially with my dad, who’s my best friend. Rio is a beautiful city, one of the most beautiful in the world. I’ve traveled a lot, but nothing compares to the sunrise in Rio de Janeiro. You can go to New York, London, Buenos Aires, Paris — even São Paulo has similarities to New York — but Rio is truly unique.

Yeah, those are two good memories that come to mind right now.

Your name Darwin is beautiful and unique. Is there a story behind the name?

Darwin: Crazy family, but I think it really fits. When I started my transition, the first thing people would always ask was, “Oh, are you going to change your name?” I thought about it for a while and considered some options, but for me, it just felt out of place. I love Darwin. I love the idea of evolution, of becoming a better version of myself. Even though I’ve struggled with dysphoria — really hard dysphoria — I’ve always been a strong person and tried to see the positive side of things.

I see the boy Darwin from Rio, or the they Darwin in New York — they’re all part of my story, just like I’m part of theirs. They all helped give me the strength to become who I am today. So keeping my name felt like a genuine decision. I really believe in becoming better versions of ourselves. If that makes sense.

It’s beautiful. You’re saying that Darwin conveys that your calling is to be perpetually evolving into a better version of yourself.

Darwin: Yeah, absolutely. And I think that’s not just for trans women or people in the queer community — this idea of being strong in your own skin — but for everyone. We’re all trying to become better versions of ourselves. That’s the kind of power I believe we’re meant to seek in this life. To grow as human beings, to be better with our neighbors, with the environment, and with everything around us.

So yeah, evolution. I can’t imagine myself with another name. I also feel really proud of my journey. Deleting the past would be a mistake. Even though I’m much happier in my skin now and with the decisions I’ve made, I’m proud of who I was back then too. I love that Darwin.

Beautiful, beautiful. It’s been said that sometimes our mistakes can be our greatest teachers. Do you have a story about a funny mistake you made when you were first starting in music, and the lesson you learned from it?

Darwin: I just make mistakes. I keep making them all the time — what are you talking about? I think that’s the power of art. It’s about making mistakes, being vulnerable, trying things, failing, and learning from those mistakes until you find your voice — something you feel connected to and comfortable with.

Mistakes are great. It would be so boring if I were someone who never made mistakes. As writers, we’re always writing, editing, cutting, and trying to make better versions of things. The play I’m working on now is exactly that. I’m constantly seeing not necessarily mistakes, but maybe wrong choices or just not the best choices for this moment or for this specific project.

So I think the mistakes — or the recognition of them — are the most valuable part of the process, both as an artist and as a human being.

Beautiful. We love hearing stories where someone who’s a bit further ahead opens a door or creates an opportunity that changes someone’s career trajectory. Do you have a story where you did that for someone else or where someone did that for you?

Darwin: Oh, definitely. A lot of people did that for me. The first person who comes to mind is my stepmother, who was a model. She had a big international career, met my dad here in New York, and then had her own TV show in Brazil. Unfortunately, she passed away ten years ago, which was around the time I moved to New York.

She was so strong, a powerful woman I really admired. I miss her. I still miss her. In a world where we forget things so easily, she keeps coming back to my mind in little reminders. My dad will say something like, “Oh, this is so your mother,” and it just brings her back.

I think about her a lot. I also think about the queer community. We just had Pride in New York, and it’s always a powerful reminder of the icons, the people who were struggling in their time — facing real challenges but still fighting to send a message. They knew that someday, someone like me would be watching, and that would give me the courage to become who I am.

There are so many people I could mention, but I always like to think of family first. My stepmother is definitely one of the biggest influences.

Darwin, you have so much amazing work. Can you share with our readers some exciting new projects you’re working on now? Your play, for instance — I’d love to hear all about it.

Darwin: Yes. I paused for two years because of surgeries last year, and I really stopped acting and singing. I took the time to think about why I’m here, what I’m doing, and what I’m doing with my art. During that two-year process, I wrote a play called Lily Darwin. I took the diaries of Lily Elbe — she was one of the first transgender women to undergo reassignment surgery in Berlin — and she published her diary in 1933. The diary covers the years from 1907 to 1930.

I take her story and intertwine it with my own story from the past ten years. I play both characters — it’s just me on stage — and I explore how far we’ve come in terms of time, but also how many things remain the same. Some things have changed for the better, and in other areas, we still have a lot of work to do.

The play really came out of a moment in 2015, during my first year recovering from surgery. As a Brazilian, a foreigner living in New York, with everything going on politically and socially, I thought, “I want to look back five or ten years from now and be proud that I used my voice and my writing to tell another story.” Whether people like it or not, I think what we need right now is visibility — people like me being seen and understood. We’re here to stay, and we’re just like anyone else.

Actually, we’re not like anyone else. I really believe, and I say this unapologetically, that trans women, queer trans people, and queer people in general are the strongest. We fight so hard to be ourselves. The journey of becoming and finding out who we are is so challenging — not to please anyone else, but for ourselves. There are struggles that come with those choices, but we keep going anyway.

I think we’re powerful. When I think about trans women, trans men, my queer community — we’re not like everyone. We’re fighters, and we’re much stronger than we realize.

What’s the main message you would like American society today, in 2025, with all its foibles and politics, to take from your play?

Darwin: There are so many messages, right? The thing is, we’re talking about New York, where there’s so much diversity and so many cultural differences from people all around the world. Depending on where you’re coming from — your age, how you were raised, your religion, whatever it is — each message will land differently.

I hope I don’t have just one message to share, but many. I hope I can offer an understanding of another human being’s perspective — a life that is beautiful, with struggles, but also full of joy and discovery. A human journey, independent of being trans.

Growing up, I had a few people I admired, but not many. I can count on one hand the number of trans women who were doing theater or on television who truly inspired me. I just want to be part of that. I think that’s the biggest message: I want to be present. I want people to come to a play in New York, enjoy it, and leave thinking, “That was beautiful. That’s one more story I respect and admire.”

More than delivering a specific message — which, honestly, we already know deep down — I want to exist as a performer, a writer, a singer in New York City. This is the city I chose to live in and build my career. I want to tell my story and connect with people. And from there, it’s up to each individual to take something meaningful from the play.

How would you compare and contrast your personal character, Darwin, with Lily, the character you play in the play? How are you similar, and how are you different?

Darwin: That’s a tricky question. First of all, I’m putting my name on it. It’s the first time I’m actually putting my name out there as a writer too. I thought, if I’m owning this, I really want to tell my story. This is the kind of play no one else could have written.

As for the similarities — there are so many. There’s the whole process of the surgeries, and the feeling that, at the end of the day, even though you’re surrounded by friends and family, the decision to be who you are is a lonely journey. When I read Lily’s diary, I thought, “I understand this.” I understood what she was going through. I understood how people looked at her — and this was in the 1920s and 1930s, when she began her transition and up until her death. She was going against the current, and I can definitely relate to that.

I also identify with the process of discovery. Lily Elbe was born Einar Wegener and lived what many would call a conventional life. She was married to another painter, Gerda. There came a point where, at a time when there were no visible role models, no one to look up to, she had to figure it all out on her own. She was one of the first. And when she started posing for Gerda’s paintings — that’s when her transformation began. That journey of discovering her essence, that deeply resonates with me.

That’s the joyful part, the discovery. But then there’s also the sadness — the way the world sees you after all those changes. We focus so much on becoming better versions of ourselves, going through surgeries, doing the work, but we don’t always think about how the rest of the world will see us afterward. And back then, it was even worse.

That’s the comparison I often draw. We’ve made progress, yes, but sometimes it feels like we haven’t moved that far. When you hear someone like Trump questioning gender, insisting there are only two genders — it shows that we’re not as far from that past as we’d like to think. So we have to be very cautious and aware of the territory we’re stepping into.

I don’t have all the answers. I can only write and put it on stage and hope that people see this was, without a doubt, the right decision for me.

This is our signature question. Darwin, you’ve been blessed with a lot of success and you must have learned a lot from your experiences. Looking back, when you first started as a young person, can you share five things that you’ve learned now that you wish would have been so helpful to know when you first started?

Darwin: Five.

1. I would say, follow your instincts.

2. Make mistakes — make a lot of mistakes. That’s the only way you’ll find out who you are. If you don’t try, nothing’s going to happen.

3. I would tell my younger self to surround yourself with people who love you. Be around your friends, those who really believe in you.

4. Teach them — teach your family, teach everyone — who you are. It’s a process, and it takes time. It took time for me to discover those things, but once I did, I think I was able to — not teach, that’s not the right word — but share who I was without questioning it.

5. Be kind to myself. That’s another thing I’d say. Learn how to look in the mirror and compliment yourself. Don’t treat yourself in ways you wouldn’t accept from someone else. I think we can be our own worst enemies in that sense. So, be kind to yourself.

So, this is our aspirational question. Darwin, because of your great work and the platform you’ve built, you’re a person of enormous influence. If you could put out an idea or inspire a movement that would bring the most good to the most people, what would that be?

Darwin: I’m doing it. It’s my play, Lily Darwin, opening on August 2nd at The Tank in New York and running through the whole month of August. That’s the thing. I hope people come, get inspired, connect with me and my story, and leave the theater with a little more understanding and sympathy for the world and the people around us. That’s the message I want to send, and I hope I can do that next month.

Darwin, how can our readers continue to follow your work? How can they attend your plays? How can they support your work in any possible way?

Darwin: I’m at The Tank Theatre in New York. It’s on 36th Street, and it opens on August 2nd. We’re running the entire month of August at 7:00 PM. You can come by, we can talk and chat, and I’d be glad to see you there. I’m also on all social media platforms — Instagram, TikTok (I’m a little ashamed to say TikTok), Twitter — but mostly Instagram. I have five recorded albums. If you want to listen to my songs, I’m on Spotify and iTunes. Just search my name. I think that’s it.

Darwin, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. I wish you continued success, blessings, and good health. And I hope we can do this again next year.

Darwin: Yes, yes. And thank you for being so kind. This was awesome.

It’s truly my pleasure. It’s really a delight to meet you, Darwin. Have a beautiful weekend