In an interview at The New York Times, Ms. Aduba, 37 — nearly unrecognizable out of her “Orange” costume, save for the gap in her smile that she told of learning to love — talked about finding Suzanne, the show’s overarching message and bringing hidden figures to life.

These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

Just when we’d grown accustomed to the small hell that was Litchfield Penitentiary, things suddenly got much worse.

Jenji has always known the story she wants to tell and just as you get comfortable, she wants to disrupt that. Just as you think you understand what prison is, she introduces privatization and the systematic constructs that keep people mentally, emotionally, socioeconomically and racially imprisoned. She woos you into this delightful thing, and then it’s like: “No no no no no, we’re having a larger, greater conversation, and it’s not a conversation for the characters. It’s a conversation for you, the audience. These are the facts and what are you going to do about it?”

How did you divine Suzanne’s essence?

I found her voice Season 1 in one of the stage directions. They had described her as being innocent like a child, except children aren’t scary. And I had a flash in my mind of a woman holding a sledgehammer in one hand and sucking on a pacifier. And as I continued to grow to know her, it was an innocence, and the purity of that actual word. It’s not just that she hasn’t experienced things. It means that even when she makes choices that we view to be poor, there is no malice, there is no calculation, there is no intention ever of harming anyone. It is strictly to protect that which she loves.

Jenji has written some deeply moving scenes for Suzanne — for instance, last season when the meth-heads painted her in whiteface, and she gave a soliloquy about the beauty of her skin.