As Wicked: For Good debuts on screens worldwide, a new generation is discovering the magic of Oz, and longtime fans are reminded why this story has endured for more than two decades. While the visuals, vocals, and viral moments inevitably dominate social media, the heart of Wicked has always rested on something quieter and far more meaningful: the radical, transformative power of female friendship.
In a cultural moment when “popularity” has shape-shifted into follower counts, curated aesthetics, and who appears in whose Instagram feed, the relationship between Galinda and Elphaba offers a strikingly relevant counter-narrative. Their connection shows us that genuine friendship will always matter more than social capital.
For me, their story has become inseparable from my own.
Popularity vs. Authenticity: A Tale as Old as Oz
When Galinda descends in her iconic bubble during the opening of Wicked, she enters the story already adored. She is polished, socially fluent, and possesses the kind of easy popularity that demands no explanation. Meanwhile, Elphaba arrives armed with intellect, integrity, and an “unfortunate” shade of green that immediately marks her as different.
What makes their dynamic so compelling is that Wicked doesn’t pretend that these differences are superficial. Their social statuses genuinely matter, because they capture a reality many women know intimately: navigating friendships within systems that reward likability over authenticity. Galinda risks ridicule by associating with Elphaba; Elphaba risks vulnerability by letting Galinda into her carefully guarded world. Their friendship grows not in spite of these differences, but because of them.
Galinda learns to value substance over perception and Elphaba learns that strength does not always mean self-reliance. Together, they challenge one another to become better, braver versions of themselves. Their friendship isn’t built on convenience, it’s built on choice.
In an age when popularity is a form of currency, Wicked reminds us that the most valuable relationships are those that cannot be performed for an audience.
The First Time Oz Changed My Life
My connection with Wicked began long before I understood any of its themes. It was the first Broadway musical I ever saw as a child, and even then I was completely enchanted. Idina Menzel had already been cemented in my imagination as Elsa (as she had for nearly every girl under the age of ten), but discovering her as Elphaba felt like stepping into a deeper, richer world of music and storytelling.
I was the kind of child who left the theatre singing the entire score, then replaying the original cast recording of “Defying Gravity” as if it were part of my daily routine. Wicked was my gateway into the world of theatre, music, and unapologetic belting, and I spent years being in musical theatre production after production at my high school and local theatres because of it.
Years later, in what felt like a full-circle fairytale, I had the opportunity to perform on the very stage where Wicked is performed: the Gershwin Theatre in New York City. As part of the fundraiser Arts for Autism with my high school choir, I found myself standing beneath the same lights that had illuminated Elphaba’s final notes for years that I had watched from the audience twice before. It was surreal and deeply affirming.
It was also a reminder of the emotional legacy this show carries for so many of us.
“Because I Knew You, I Have Been Changed…”
Throughout my many years of Wicked obsession (and countless self-serenades to “The Wizard and I”), one person has consistently been part of this story: my best friend from Austin, Texas, Kathryn.
Kathryn and I saw Wicked twice together: once in New York as part of the Arts for Autism, an experience that finally convinced her to try out for our school’s musical the following year, where we got to be Delta Nus together in Legally Blonde, and once again in Austin when the tour came through our hometown. We then watched the first movie side by side. She is the person I instinctively look for during every emotional swell of “For Good,” the person who harmonizes with me without needing to discuss who takes which line.
She is, in every way that matters, my Galinda.
Which is what makes this moment bittersweet. Now that I’m studying in Scotland and Kathryn is still in Texas, the release of Wicked: For Good feels strangely incomplete. It’s the first major Wicked milestone we haven’t shared together in person. The first time I’ve sat in a theatre chair without her elbow nudging mine at our favorite jokes or her shoulder to cry on during the final reprise of “I’m Limited.”
Distance doesn’t diminish a friendship, of course, but it does shift its shape. And watching the second movie without her underscored just how much we have grown together through the story of Galinda and Elphaba: two girls who learned that love and loyalty matter far more than social standing.
What Wicked Reminds Us About Women Supporting Women
Part of why Wicked continues to resonate, especially with women, is that it offers an honest portrayal of female friendship. Not the sanitized, ultra-supportive version sold on Pinterest boards, but the authentic kind that involves conflict, jealousy, forgiveness, and profound mutual growth.
Galinda and Elphaba’s relationship is not perfect. They misunderstand and disappoint each other. Their ambitions diverge and their lives pull them in different directions. Yet they remain tethered by respect, affection, and the knowledge that knowing each other has made them better people.
This nuance is powerful. In a world that often frames female relationships through competition or aestheticized “bestie culture,” Wicked insists that the most meaningful friendships are the ones that challenge and ultimately transform us.
If popularity is the bubble Galinda floats within, then Elphaba is the reality that pierces it. Their friendship reveals that the best relationships aren’t about maintaining appearances, but about dismantling the illusions that hold us back.
“For Good.”
Even now, as I watch this new wave of Wicked fans discover the story for the first time, I’m reminded of how deeply these characters have shaped my life. From the little girl who fell in love with Idina Menzel’s voice, to the teenager standing on the Gershwin stage, to the university student thousands of miles from home, Wicked has been a constant.
And so has my best friend.
Distance may separate us, but our friendship, just like Galinda and Elphaba’s, has left an imprint that remains no matter where we are. Not being able to watch the second film together has been unexpectedly emotional, but it has also emphasized a truth at the core of Wicked: the people who matter most stay with us, in ways that transcend geography.
As the final notes of “For Good” remind us:
“But because I knew you,
I have been changed for good.”