I Feel WICKED - Act II

I’m Not That Girl (The Anthem I Didn’t Want) “Don’t dream too far / Don’t lose sight of who you are / Don’t remember that rush of joy / He could be that boy / I’m not that girl” I had to excuse myself to the bathroom after this one. Just sat there in the stall crying, trying to be quiet. It felt embarrassing, but also, I couldn’t stop because it felt like something inside me was finally breaking open. It’s not even about the boy. I mean, it is, but it’s bigger than that. It’s about being the person who takes themselves out of everything before anyone else can reject them. It’s about being so convinced you’re not “that girl” — the one who gets chosen — that you don’t even try. I know this song. I’ve been singing it in my head for years. Every time I talk myself out of speaking up, showing up, taking up space. This is my anthem and I hate that it is. Not out loud. Never out loud. But in my head, when I DON’T apply for things I want. When I don’t speak up in class. When I assume I’m not invited, not wanted, or not enough. The worst part is how it sounds like wisdom. “Don’t dream too far, don’t lose sight of who you are.” But really, it’s just fear wearing a disguise. And the thing that kills me is that later — spoiler again but whatever — we find out Elphaba WAS that girl. Fiero did see her. I chose her. Her whole tragic self-protection thing was based on a lie she told herself. How many times have I been wrong about not being “that girl”? How many opportunities did I miss because I decided in advance I wasn’t good enough? How much of my life have I wasted protecting myself from rejection that might never have come? (This is getting depressing. But also maybe necessary?)

Popular (The Violence of Trying to Fix People) Ariana Grande is perfect in this. Too perfect. Which is exactly the point. “Popular” should be funny — and it is — but it’s also kind of horrifying when you think about it. Glinda isn’t trying to be mean. She genuinely thinks she’s helping by teaching Elphaba how to be more… acceptable. “Popular! You’re gonna be popular! / I’ll teach you the proper poise when you talk to boys…” It sounds so helpful. So generous. But listen to what she’s actually saying: You need to be different. You need to perform femininity better. You need to hide who you are and become someone more palatable. The song is about conformity dressed up as friendship. And the tragedy is that Elphaba wants it to work. For a minute there, she believes maybe if she just tries hard enough to be normal, everything will be okay. But normal is a cage. And some of us aren’t built for cages.

Defying Gravity (The Moment Everything Changes) This is the song everyone knows. The big number. The eleven o’clock moment where Elphaba rises above the stage and you forget you’re watching a movie because it feels like witnessing actual magic. But sitting there in the theater, I wasn’t thinking about the technical aspects or the staging. I was thinking about the exact moment she decides to stop playing by everyone else’s rules. “I’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game / Too late for second-guessing, too late to go back to sleep / It’s time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap!” That’s not about flying. That’s about the psychological moment when you stop seeking approval and start trusting yourself. When you realize that being liked and being right aren’t the same thing. When you choose authenticity over acceptance even though it’s going to cost you. I’ve never had a “Defying Gravity” moment. But watching Elphaba rise above that stage, watching her literally defy the forces trying to keep her down, something in me broke and whispered: What would it feel like to trust my instincts for once? What would it feel like to just… rise? (Probably nothing dramatic. I’m not going to suddenly develop magical powers. But maybe that’s not the point.) The metaphor is perfect though. Gravity keeps us grounded, literally. But it also keeps us small. Safe. Predictable. And sometimes you have to fight against the fundamental forces holding you down if you want to rise. Even if it means everyone thinks you’re wicked.

The Green Skin Thing (Being Visibly Different) Elphaba’s green skin is the part of the metaphor I keep coming back to. She can’t hide it. Can’t minimize it. Can’t make it more comfortable for other people. There’s this moment where Glinda says, “You’re green,” and Elphaba just says, “I AM.” Not apologetically. Not defensively. Not trying to minimize it or explain it away. Just… claiming it. Owning it. Yes, I’m green. Yes, I’m different. I AM. I want to be able to do that. To say I AM without flinching, without apologizing, without making myself smaller so they can feel bigger. Because here’s what I’m starting to understand: The green skin isn’t the problem. The world’s reaction to the green skin is the problem. And we can’t control other people’s reactions but we can control whether we let their discomfort become our shame. Elphaba spends the whole first act trying to fit in despite being green. By the end, she’s powerful BECAUSE she’s green. The thing that made her different made her magical. Maybe that’s true for all of us. Maybe the things we’re most self-conscious about are actually our superpowers waiting to be claimed. (I’m still working on believing this. Some days are better than others.)

What This Movie Did to Me (I Think) I left the theater feeling weird. Not good-weird or bad-weird, just… different. Like something had shifted that I couldn’t name yet. It’s been three days and I think I’m starting to figure it out. I’ve spent so much time trying to be the right kind of person. Interesting but not weird. Present but not too much. Real but not too real. But Elphaba doesn’t do that. She tries, in the beginning. But eventually she stops managing other people’s comfort and starts managing her own integrity. And yeah, it costs her. People think she’s wicked. She loses friends. She has to leave everything familiar behind. But she also becomes the most powerful person in the story. She also becomes free. Maybe freedom and comfort are mutually exclusive. Maybe you can’t be free and safe at the same time. Maybe choosing yourself always costs something. I don’t know if I’m brave enough for my own “Defying Gravity” moment yet. But I think I want to try. The movie gave me a different framework for thinking about these things. What if the things I think are wrong with me are actually just… different? And what if different can be powerful? (I realize I sound like a self-help book right now. But also maybe that’s okay.) There’s this line from “For Good” at the end: “Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.” That’s what good art does. It changes you in ways you can’t undo. Shows you possibilities you can’t unsee. I can’t unsee Elphaba rising above that stage, choosing herself over approval even though it meant losing everything. I can’t unhear “I’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game.” I can’t unfeel that moment in the theater when I realized I’ve been playing by the rules of someone else’s game my entire life. So what if I played by mine? So maybe that’s enough for now. Maybe transformation doesn’t happen all at once in one perfect movie-moment. Maybe it starts with seeing what’s possible and then learning to believe you deserve it too. Maybe defying gravity starts with just… looking up. With imagining, for just one second, what it would feel like to rise. I don’t know how to explain what Wicked did to me. But I’m different now. Something cracked open and I can’t close it again and I don’t want to. I’m different now. And I think that’s the point. I think that’s everything.