Whether you’re “dancing through life” or fending off “something bad”, only goodness knows how Wicked has paved a yellow brick road for all of us to try “defying gravity”. And while many fans of the stage production turned film have really held space with the production, there’s a good amount of fans who didn’t even know that was happening. As moviegoers galvanized their greenest attire, or prettiest shades of pink to run down to theaters, it seems something else entirely was in store for them: 2 hours and 40 minutes of inward reflection and self discovery.
The memes of the vaguely homoerotic friendship between Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo had been holding space on my social media for some time before I’d carved out time to see the highly-appraised film. Immediately, I found myself doe-eyed and entranced by the mystical music of Wicked. Scarcely, I blinked, fearful I would miss any singular detail on my journey through Oz. As I watched, and laughed in jest at the songs I’d recognized from Tik Tok trends, I began to reflect on the situation the characters found themselves in.
I related most to Elphaba, who had been shunned and underestimated from birth because of her ‘unusual’ green skin. A story Black women, and women of color, know all too well. Elphaba constantly minimized herself in the face of her peers, a coping mechanism I recognized from having done it too, to cope with the daunting horror of feeling unlovable and unfixable due to her different skin complexion. I remember stifling sobs as Elphaba sang “I’m not that girl”, which reminded me of the times when I’d realized that when next to someone thinner or whiter, I’d never be chosen. It was a fool-proof method of rejecting yourself before you could be rejected, to lessen the impact of the blow. Elphaba, in her buss-down micro braids, was a reflection of me and the cumulative experiences I’ve had as a Black woman. When the others in the film had made fun of her, my heart pinged with pain, and when she cried, I cried too. Seeing Elphaba grow into her ‘greenness’ with such confidence made the later part of the film mean all the more to me. As she defied the powerless ‘wizard’ Oz, and finally chose herself, I, too, felt a newfound confidence.
Hearing Elphaba belt how she’s “defying gravity” to the entire Emerald City caused goosebumps to trickle down my arms. As I’d watched her say all the words I’ve struggled stringing along myself, I realized something. I was holding space. Wicked had given me the representation the media has struggled to so for years with the casting of a beautiful Black woman as the lead. The role, played by Cynthia Erivo, made me feel even further connected to this role and I recalled Cynthia saying that she’d used her experiences as a Black woman to bring Elphaba to life. The complexity of Elphaba’s (and Galinda’s) character, had voiced my experience as a young girl, but more importantly, a young Black girl navigating my sense of belonging in this world that doesn’t seem to want me. As I profusely wiped away the stream of tears that seemed never ending, I hadn’t realized just how much seeing reflections of myself on the screen meant to the little girl buried inside the now 20-something year old me.
Many people, like myself, were holding space for the film because of the shared feeling of being underestimated and rejected by society for our identities. The film fostered a community of ‘outcasts’ and held our hand as we learned to love ourselves for our differences. In a world where society is regressing on our standards of diversity, equity, inclusion, and love for one another, films like this are an important solstice where we can regroup and nurture everything the world tells us that we should hate about ourselves or one another. Don’t forget that together we’re unlimited, and nobody in all of the world, no hater that is or was, can ever bring you down.
*Cue the “Defying gravity” high note*