If you walk through Salem, Massachusetts, today, you’ll see plenty of "Witch City" kitsch. T-shirts with pointy hats. Bubbling cauldrons in shop windows. But for Becky Nurse, the protagonist of Sarah Ruhl’s play Becky Nurse of Salem, the history isn't a gift shop souvenir. It’s a weight. A literal, ancestral burden that feels a lot like a curse.
Honestly, most people hear "Salem" and "Nurse" and immediately think of Arthur Miller’s The Crucible. They picture the saintly, white-haired Rebecca Nurse heading to the gallows with quiet dignity. But Ruhl’s Becky? She’s nothing like that. She’s salt-of-the-earth, foul-mouthed, and currently spiraling.
Who is Becky Nurse of Salem?
Becky is a modern-day descendant of the real Rebecca Nurse, who was famously hanged in 1692 at the age of 71. Our contemporary Becky works as a tour guide at the local witch museum, but she’s just been fired. Why? Because she couldn't stop herself from "correcting" the history. She basically told a group of Catholic school students that Arthur Miller only wrote the play because he wanted to sleep with Marilyn Monroe.
That's the kind of woman we're dealing with.
She’s a grandmother trying to raise her troubled granddaughter, Gail, in a town where the primary exports seem to be tourism and opioids. Becky is struggling with her own addiction to pain pills, a messy love life involving a local bartender named Bob, and a bank account that’s perpetually empty.
She's desperate. And when people get desperate in Salem, they sometimes look for magic.
The Real History vs. The Crucible
One of the big points Sarah Ruhl makes in Becky Nurse of Salem is how much Arthur Miller actually got wrong. Or, more accurately, how much he fictionalized to make a point about the Red Scare of the 1950s.
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In The Crucible, the trials are sparked by a teenage love triangle. John Proctor and Abigail Williams have an affair, and Abigail uses the accusations to get rid of Proctor's wife.
Except that never happened.
In real life, Abigail Williams was about 11 years old. John Proctor was 60. There was no affair. By framing the tragedy as a "scorned woman" narrative, Miller arguably shifted the blame onto a young girl and erased the broader systemic misogyny.
Ruhl puts this front and center.
Becky’s rage stems from the fact that her ancestor—a well-respected, pious woman—was murdered because of land disputes and religious hysteria, not because some girl was "jealous." Becky sees the same patterns repeating in 2016. She hears the "Lock her up!" chants on the news and sees how quickly society turns on women who don't fit a specific mold.
The Plot: Spells, Pills, and Wax Figures
After losing her job, Becky visits a local "witch" for help. Not the historical kind, but a modern, entrepreneurial one who charges hundreds of dollars for "oontments" and rituals.
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She wants three things:
- A new job.
- To get her granddaughter away from a "goth" boyfriend.
- To finally win over Bob, her high school sweetheart who is currently married.
The "witch" gives her a potion and some instructions. And here’s the kicker: the magic seems to actually work. But, like every monkey's paw story ever told, it works in the worst ways possible.
Becky ends up in jail. She steals a wax figure of her ancestor from the museum. She hallucinates—or perhaps actually travels back to 1692—and stands in the shoes of the original Rebecca Nurse.
It’s a "gallimaufry" of elements, as some critics called it. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s got a lot of swearing. It’s also deeply human.
Why This Play Hits Different in 2026
When Becky Nurse of Salem premiered off-Broadway at Lincoln Center in late 2022, audiences were still processing the "Lock her up" era and the height of the opioid crisis. Now, a few years later, the themes feel even more baked into the American psyche.
The play isn't just about witches. It’s about the "Nurse curse"—the idea that poverty and bad luck are inherited traits.
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Becky feels stuck. She lives a few feet from where her mother is buried and likely a few feet from where she’ll end up. The play captures that claustrophobia of a small town where history is the only thing people have to sell, even if that history is a lie.
Expert Insights: The Performance of Deirdre O'Connell
You can't talk about this play without mentioning Deirdre O'Connell, who originated the role. She brought a "feisty, if misguided energy" to Becky that made a prickly character somehow lovable.
The play is a heavy lift for any actress. You’re playing a woman who is high on pills, grieving her daughter, obsessed with an old flame, and fighting a 300-year-old legal battle.
It’s a "dark comedy," but the comedy is pitch-black. Like the running gag about where the hanging tree actually stood—is it under the CVS or the Dunkin' Donuts? It’s funny because it’s a perfect metaphor for how we pave over trauma with franchises.
Actionable Insights: Navigating the Legacy
If you're looking to dive deeper into the world of Becky Nurse of Salem, here is how to approach it:
- Read the Play vs. The History: Don't just take the play's word for it. Look up the transcripts of the 1692 trials. The real Rebecca Nurse was actually found "not guilty" initially, but the jury was forced to reconsider because the "afflicted" girls had fits in the courtroom.
- Question the Narrative: Next time you watch or read The Crucible, ask yourself whose story is being told. Ruhl’s play is a masterclass in "re-centering" a narrative.
- Visit Danvers (Salem Village): Most of the actual history happened in what is now Danvers, not the tourist-heavy Salem. The Rebecca Nurse Homestead is a real place you can visit to see the actual land the Nurse family fought to keep.
- Look for Local Productions: While the Lincoln Center run is over, this play has become a staple for regional theaters (like the REP in Albany or Shattered Globe in Chicago) because it speaks so clearly to the "working-class" experience.
Becky Nurse isn't a saint. She’s a mess. But in a world that demands women be either "perfect victims" or "evil witches," being a mess is a form of resistance.
To understand the full scope of the Nurse family legacy, you should compare the historical trial transcripts with Ruhl's script. The dialogue in the "past" scenes is often pulled directly from the 1692 court records, highlighting just how little the language of accusation has changed over three centuries.