*slight spoilers of the movie musical Wicked 2004 if you haven't seen it yet. Proceed with caution

As someone who has listened and watched clips from Wicked hundreds of times since 2003, there was something about Cynthia Evrio's performance as Elphaba that hit home for me. And it hit hard.

Wicked the movie musical was nothing less than a 3 hour therapy session that I didn't realize I needed. I want to explore some of those parellels that made me feel seen as a Black Woman

Answering the same questions so many times, it's how you introduce yourself 

There is no "Hi my name is...how are you doing today?" Because there is no getting past what people can see and what they're processing to ask you before they actually do. So to save yourself headache as a Black woman, it's always,' Yes my hair is real, no it is not a weave, no you may not touch it. No I actually don't know (random Black person). And if you don't have a common name, you say "it's pronounced [name] like [something most people are familiar with]. Doing so just saves you the trouble of having this long dialogue, at least in the beginning.

 

Surprised Comments on Your Skin Tone

This was in the previews so not a spoiler, but when Glinda turns around and says "You're green?" Elphaba looks down at her hands, says I am, and gives the biggest smirk that, as a Black woman, I know all too well. Like, seriously girl, you think I didn't know that?

I remember working at the switchboard during college for work study. "Hi, this is Agatha, how may I help you?" I'd ask in my most professional tone. I mean, it was a job, what did people expect me to say? "Whaddup! Dis Agatha! What ch'all want?"

One day, well, several days actually, someone would come to the switchboard office, approach me, and say "Yes I just spoke to Miss Agatha over the phone?"

"Yes, that would be me. How are you today." I'd say in my most cheery tone.

"Oh! Um...maybe there was a different Agatha" they'd stammer

"No that was me, you're [name] right? How are you today?"

I'd pretend not to notice the inner workings of their brain as the image of me being a white girl slowly faded away in their minds. Some would be disappointed. Some would ask for someone else. Some would just be flat out confused for a good five minutes so it would be an additional five minutes of reminding them of the conversation. Then there was a smaller group. A group of people who turned to complete embarrassment. I could see the shame on their face 'of course she's Black! Black people exist too! Goodness, I can't believe I just assumed she wasn't'

Sometimes we could move past their embarrassment, and others would try to stammer their way with at least a compliment or too. Me? All I am is relieved that they aren't angry and asking for someone else. Cause that situation is the worst.

 

Unlikely Friends and Even Unlikelier Foes

Being a Black woman almost feels like you're everyone's enemy. Like Elphaba being green, I was shocked that the Munchkins, being as different as they were, were not willing to be her friend, as they understood what being different is like as well.

But much like in the real world, it doesn't work like that in Oz. For it's much better to be on the side of the popular kids than to go against them. If they make fun of the green girl, maybe it will distract them from disliking you and, perhaps, make you more of a model minority.

We see this in the real world often and it drives me bonkers. Minority groups finding ways to feel superior to one another instead of realizing we are all in the same boat. And until we come together, these systemic practices that are made to keep us in poverty, divided, and control who has access to what l, will always exist.

However, she did have a connection with the animals in Oz, as they both understood unfair and unjust treatment. They understood that speaking out gets you punished. But when she stayed behind to clean up and restore Doctor Dillamond 's flowers, it was such a sweet and kind gesture between the two of them.

 

The Wicked Aren't Bad, They Are The Ones Who Speak Up

Sandra Bland comes to mind. And much like Elphaba, she reached a horrific fate, that allegedly some groups either celebrated, or shrugged off as a deserved fate be moved on.

We brand people, Black Women in particular, as bad women, fast women, wicked women. But like Elphaba, these are women of high intelligence, women with empathy. Some of these women have families. My heart often aches for Tamla Horsford, a mother of five, who died at a sleep over with 5 white friends. Her murder was originally pinned as a suicide and that she jumped from a 2 story balcony. She was labeled as a drunk. She left behind a husband and children. Her last photo with her so called friends still haunts me.

Sandra Bland, Brianna Taylor, Tamla Horsford. Black women everywhere, living and gone, labels have affected all of us.

But I'm here to tell you today you are not bad, you are not fast, you are not an "angry Black woman". And you are not wicked.

When you pass, I will mourn you. I will cry that you won't return

You are worthy of everything and so much more.

Go change the world. Or cuddle in some blankets. Either way, you matter🥰

 

 

Sources: 

https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/tamla-horsford-death-georgia-bureau-investigation-report-1231479/

https://www.ebony.com/what-happened-to-sandra-bland-505/ 

https://www.nytimes.com/article/breonna-taylor-police.html 

https://m.imdb.com/title/tt1262426/ 

 

To All the Former Church Girls Who Were Told They Were Wicked, This Is For You

If you've read my bio, by now you know I have a Bachelor's degree in Theater Arts. Which means I've been rocking Wicked since its debut on Broadway in 2003. A big dream of mine was to see it live. But sadly, like majority of the country, we often don't get the chance to travel to New York City to see these amazing broadway shows. So like most Midwesterner's, my only access to the show was grainy clips on YouTube. Which was nothing in comparison to the real thing.

Don't get me wrong, Idina Menzel is a breathtakingly amazing actress and singer. To me, she is up there with Audra McDonald. You just sort of look up at them and are captivated by their voices.

But Cynthia Eviro's performance as Elphaba was breathtaking in a different way. There is absolutely no complaint on her vocal ability. But she brought something to the character that was so relatable, so obviously deep and painful that it took some time to process where this pain was coming from in my body.

And then I listened to "No One Mourns the Wicked" after the movie and it hit me.

I was the Wicked girl in church. The different one. The one always asking questions. The one who, when I begged for help, was expiditiously denied.

There may come a time where the Pastor and his wife may read this one day. I don't write this to place blame on them. Rather, I want to get this out in a way for them to understand that they caused me a great deal of pain. And if they are wondering how they can get more young people in the church, it's time to listen.

Just like Elphaba, I was deemed wicked at a very young age, before I could really understand or process why. I went to a very strict Baptist church. It taught me some lessons that weren't impactful to the person telling me this, rather, it impacted me, as a child, hearing all of this for the first time. 

"Gay people were going to Hell," they said. "But why?" I asked in my 6 year old mind, thinking only of my sweet stepbrother who listened to Mariah Carey tapes and never harmed anyone. "Because it's unnatural, they can't make babies" the teacher reiterated. I raised my hand, thinking of the perfect response that might make me an angelic Glinda "But there are women who can't have babies" I said sweetly "they are barren" a word I learned from reading the dictionary too many times "do they go to Hell too?"

 

And then. Silence.

 

He grabs my arm and sends me to the dark time out room. In an angry voice he tells me to sit and not come out. I was a questioning child, but very obedient. I did not move. He said he was getting my mother. I still have no idea what he told her, just that she was furious. We didn't talk on the drive home.

 

But the silence was obvious, I was bad. I was wicked, even, for asking such questions.

 

This happened several more times, at the same church but also at the next church we went to. My branding followed me. And I began to resent going.

 

But after escaping a not-so-great situation in my 30s, I decided to give it a go again. My mother was even surprised she didn't have to make me go. I was up and ready. I had my Bible. I was at a point where nothing else worked, so why not try this?

 

The church was extremely small. Like, my family made up 60 percent of the church. I was dealing with my past, I was open and honest. I didn't want to be wicked anymore. I just wanted to learn.

I got more active, I got more involved in helping people, inviting people. These are the things I do not regret. Because I did it from my heart. It felt good to help others without an agenda, to talk to them, to let them know I have been through things. I'm all about boundaries though, so I'd never force anyone to pray if they didn't want to. But as being labeled as wicked, it was easy to approach people who not folks typically wouldn't. Just invite them inside if it's cold. Let them know it's a meal if we had once. There's no pressure. I just wanted them to meet one nice Christian because I felt like that's why I would have wanted.

and...things started to change in a big way.

I can't give a lot of identifying information as to what lead to this, but I had asked to help more, and my requests would go ignored. I got a digital camera and wanted to help people take family photos for free. No response. I asked to do more presentations and could notice the hesitation on the Pastors face. As if he thought I might say something inappropriate in the microphone.

I was open and honest about my situation and I noticed my calls were going unanswered more and more.

 

and then, a huge altercation happened with my family, with details I won't get into, and I was called into the pastors wife's office. She prayed. She let me know she disagreed with my actions. But me, wicked me, has responses too.

"has anyone else been called into your office besides me?" I asked

She paused "no"

More back and forth. And in the midst of the conversation I realized...

 

Here we go again, I'm wicked. No one else, just me.

 

i had been dealing with a safety issue and had asked the pastor and his wife to bless my home for several months, no response. I asked for spiritual counseling for months, no response. I was going downhill fast and it reminded me of the song

No one mourns the wicked, no one cries "they won't return"

I waited to send the Pastor an email about how I was feeling, but left out the details of the "thing I can't speak of" in hopes he would just know. He is a Man of God however.

His response lacked confirmation and comfort. Of course I'm welcome in the house of God, but at this time, God is telling him to "be still".

No counseling. No support. No help. No reassurance

No one mourns the wicked, no one cries "they won't return"

And they didn't cry. And they never will. Because I am nothing but wicked to them.