I Know Why Wicked Made Us Cry
By now most of us have spent almost three hours in the theater watching Cynthia Erivo, aka "Elphaba," sing her own narrative against a world of corruption, aka the "Land of Oz." And along with calls for Oscars and overhauling the film industry to bring back the classic movie musical, most people are posting their real-time reactions to Wicked's closing number "Defying Gravity" on TikTok and Instagram, documenting their emotional breakdowns. It's kind of trendy, which of course put me off immediately. I don't do trendy.
I was prepared to love Wicked, but not to cry. I'm one of these cold and twisty dead-in-side kind of people that don't cry at weddings or births, and if I was guilty about it before, now I've accepted my twistiness. But when Elphaba took to the sky in that last number a little tickle warmed at the back of my throat, and I, too, started to leak. Why? It's just a story. Why am I suddenly up there with her, disappearing into the clouds on the back of a broomstick? I've not been abandoned by a mythical city filled with magical bigwigs. I'm not being gaslit by my sorcery professor. I didn't just hurt an entire population I meant to help.
But then it hit me,
Dammit, she’s singing about me.
Whatever Elphaba was doing, whatever she was escaping, happened to me, too. And you. All of us. We all have a thing, maybe not Oz, but something that we were brave enough to say out loud and were told to be quiet, told we were lying, exaggerating, "making a scene."
I think about Christine Blasey Ford, who most people had never heard of until she bravely stepped up and tried to stop Brett Kavanaugh from being confirmed to the Supreme Court, a man who sexually assaulted her, but still was given the seat.
I think of Dylan Farrow, who didn't stand a chance against a billion dollar Hollywood machine, but bared her soul in Nicholas Kristof’s blog in the New York Times (which wouldn't give her a spot in the opinion section, but gave Woody Allen an almost 2000-word rebuttal).
I think of E. Jean Carroll, who won her civil sexual-assault case against Donald Trump, but lives the consequences that he doesn't have to, as he prepares for a second term in the White House.
I think of Drew Dixon, who was one of many women to come forward and tell her story of abuse at the hands of music mogul, Russell Simmons. The industry didn’t welcome her back. Meanwhile Simmons, as of 2024, has an estimated net worth of $500 million.
These are big stories, but you have stories, too. And so do I. Those times when you finally did it, you spoke up, you said the words, praying your voice wouldn't shake. For me it was telling a grown up when a kid almost shot my sister, missing her head and putting a bullet hole into the wall. I did what I was supposed to do. And they laughed at me, saying, "Oh Ellie, always exaggerating." They didn't look. They didn't take the gun. I was four, and already learning that I wasn't to be believed.
It's the terms "hysterical" and "hysteria," "overreacting" and "causing problems." It's speaking up at the school board meeting when your kid is bullied, watching the school do everything they can to convince her that it wasn't that bad, extending their streak, checking the box.
"Mom, they're right. I wasn't bullied. I overreacted."
And it isn't always women; it can be men, too. There were plenty of men crying in those theaters. Because it's "Be tough. Don't cry. I don't want to hear that kid's been picking on you. Do something about it. Be a man." Learning not to complain, not to stir the pot, to stuff your problems.
Or it's your age. Being told that you don't understand because you don't have the experience. "You don't deserve those feelings. You'll understand when you're older." I'm 42. Do I get to understand my feelings yet, be mad about stuff?
There was a lot of political innuendo in Wicked, and plenty of reaction on social media: "Were they talking about us?" Yeah, they probably were. That gob of green corrupt goo, that’s you guys over there. And the handful of folks fighting for good, that was you in the other corner. And Ga-linda was the other 95 percent that we all wondered how you'd vote in the last election, afraid to have an opinion and taking the path of least resistance.
"Elphie, listen to me, just say you're sorry
You can still be with the wizard
What you've worked and waited for
You can have all you ever wanted."
Don't rock the boat. Don't stand out. Don't stand up. Don't stick your neck out. Don't complain. And you can have everything you ever wanted.
And while we considered it, we thought about the time we spoke up against an abuser and were ignored.
And while we considered it, we thought about the time we went to someone above our boss to protect a coworker, and were demoted.
And while we considered it, we thought about the time we went to the police and told the truth, and lost everything as a result.
And while we considered it, we remembered not being believed, being told we were wrong, and being gaslit into thinking they were right.
And we cried into our popcorn buckets.
Because we don't want it. No, we can't want it anymore.
Now go see Wicked at a theater near you!
Ellie is an author, editor, and owner of Red Pencil Transcripts, and works with filmmakers, podcasts, and journalists all over the world. She lives with her family just outside of New York City, and is represented by Vicki Marsdon at High Spot Literary.
Beautiful, Ellie. All the right sentiments and organized into such lovely, heartfelt words. Thank you.