Being Elphaba
Honestly, it's no different than being born green. Well, maybe a little. Ok, so it's probably a bit different. Humans don't come in green as a standard option. Funny, though, as I sat watching "Wicked" (finally...geez) from the first row of the balcony at the Smith Center (Las Vegas, Nevada) Wednesday night, I wondered. Like seriously wondered. Look, I'm sure a bunch of y'all out there connect with Glinda. You're pretty, popular, stared at in a good way; people idolize you, want to be you. And if that's not you now, you aspire to it with every fiber of your mind, body, and spirit. Hey, good on you. But here's the thing-- From the jump - the very jump of my life - I've been Elphaba. Maybe not green....but different. And not in a way most people like or understand, much less accept.
I've never figured out why so many people expend so much energy wanting me to be like them. Grow your hair, wear makeup, wear dresses or at least stop dressing like a boy, like boys, go out, date, get married, don't be so introverted, take meds, travel with someone for once, use creamer in your coffee, put cream cheese on your bagel, eat a cheeseburger, run less, run more, write less, write more, read, drink, care what people think a little more, be normal.
Thankfully, I always had one thing going for me - I believed that one day I would be extraordinary. Lucky for me, I was born with one foot pointed in the right direction. Because no one ever became extraordinary by being ordinary. So, yeah... I've fallen a bit short of all that. I mean, I'm just me. Different and ok with it. Which maybe as I think about it makes me pretty extraordinary. I'm not trying to shed my skin or be something I'm not. I don't cowtow to peer pressure, nor do I have any desire to fit in with the masses. I exist outside the ordinary. Hmmm....... As I think about it, some might call that extraordinary.
But back to me and Elphaba the other night. I've been befriended, been Glinda'd; kind others have tried to shape me, change me, replace me with someone more appropriate, someone less likely to be stared at or ignored, someone more like them. Sure, they dressed me up, took me out....but there was always one thing they couldn't change - my mind. Somehow, some way I always held true to me. I fully accept that I had it easier than Elphaba. As Kermit the Frog has said many times, it's not easy being green. Man, how do you hide that? At least I can femme it up and quote a Bible verse or two. But f*** ain't no getting away from being green.
I imagine the Big Takeaway from "Wicked" is to see that there's a little Elphaba in all of us. Maybe we aren't green, but if we let ourselves be ourselves, we're all different and we need to let that difference shine. Call us wicked, stare at us, run from us, make fun of us. Do all of it. Nonetheless, we will defy gravity. We will rise. All you wanna-be Glindas out there? Yeah, y'all, too. You're more Elphaba than you know.
Fast-forward fifty years... I am fully aware of who I am, what I bring. I know what makes me different and, while I am either stared at or completely invisible (There doesn't seem to be much middle ground these days), I wouldn't have this life any other way.
And I didn't even need to get the guy in the end... Speaking of which...
Dear "Wicked" writers... I don't know if I need to address Gregory Maguire who wrote the novel or Winnie Holzman who wrote the book for the musical. Anywho, Elphaba didn't need to get the boy. Trust me on this one. You had this great girl-power thing going and then you went all typical. Girl meets boy, girl loses boy, girl becomes a witch, girl gets boy. Fu*********** me. Just when you had a chance to be extraordinary, you Glinda'd it. Next time I'm skipping the entire second act for the same reason that I'll never watch "Wonder Woman" beyond the kick-ass opening sequence. It's the 21st Century. Women can f***ing save themselves.
I know you wanna, so go ahead. Call me wicked. I'll hold that one with both hands, raise it above my head.......and levitate
[Insert witch's cackle here.]
I've never figured out why so many people expend so much energy wanting me to be like them. Grow your hair, wear makeup, wear dresses or at least stop dressing like a boy, like boys, go out, date, get married, don't be so introverted, take meds, travel with someone for once, use creamer in your coffee, put cream cheese on your bagel, eat a cheeseburger, run less, run more, write less, write more, read, drink, care what people think a little more, be normal.
Thankfully, I always had one thing going for me - I believed that one day I would be extraordinary. Lucky for me, I was born with one foot pointed in the right direction. Because no one ever became extraordinary by being ordinary. So, yeah... I've fallen a bit short of all that. I mean, I'm just me. Different and ok with it. Which maybe as I think about it makes me pretty extraordinary. I'm not trying to shed my skin or be something I'm not. I don't cowtow to peer pressure, nor do I have any desire to fit in with the masses. I exist outside the ordinary. Hmmm....... As I think about it, some might call that extraordinary.
But back to me and Elphaba the other night. I've been befriended, been Glinda'd; kind others have tried to shape me, change me, replace me with someone more appropriate, someone less likely to be stared at or ignored, someone more like them. Sure, they dressed me up, took me out....but there was always one thing they couldn't change - my mind. Somehow, some way I always held true to me. I fully accept that I had it easier than Elphaba. As Kermit the Frog has said many times, it's not easy being green. Man, how do you hide that? At least I can femme it up and quote a Bible verse or two. But f*** ain't no getting away from being green.
I imagine the Big Takeaway from "Wicked" is to see that there's a little Elphaba in all of us. Maybe we aren't green, but if we let ourselves be ourselves, we're all different and we need to let that difference shine. Call us wicked, stare at us, run from us, make fun of us. Do all of it. Nonetheless, we will defy gravity. We will rise. All you wanna-be Glindas out there? Yeah, y'all, too. You're more Elphaba than you know.
Fast-forward fifty years... I am fully aware of who I am, what I bring. I know what makes me different and, while I am either stared at or completely invisible (There doesn't seem to be much middle ground these days), I wouldn't have this life any other way.
And I didn't even need to get the guy in the end... Speaking of which...
Dear "Wicked" writers... I don't know if I need to address Gregory Maguire who wrote the novel or Winnie Holzman who wrote the book for the musical. Anywho, Elphaba didn't need to get the boy. Trust me on this one. You had this great girl-power thing going and then you went all typical. Girl meets boy, girl loses boy, girl becomes a witch, girl gets boy. Fu*********** me. Just when you had a chance to be extraordinary, you Glinda'd it. Next time I'm skipping the entire second act for the same reason that I'll never watch "Wonder Woman" beyond the kick-ass opening sequence. It's the 21st Century. Women can f***ing save themselves.
I know you wanna, so go ahead. Call me wicked. I'll hold that one with both hands, raise it above my head.......and levitate
[Insert witch's cackle here.]
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