The Wizard of Oz (1939) never spoke to me as a child. Quite the opposite, in fact; it terrified me. Certainly, the story is unsettling: Being swept away in a tornado is no one’s idea of a good time. But it was not that, nor was it the drabness of Dorothy’s life on the farm.

It was the costumes.

I was terrified of anyone or anything in costume as a kid: mascots, the Easter Bunny, a mall Santa minding his own business. All of them were suspect to my childish eyes, and one look at the Tin Man had me begging my father to return to golf. Harrowing, to think I was so upset I wanted him to put on golf.

Wicked, though, was different. I had read Gregory Maguire’s book by the time I got tickets as a Christmas gift, and I was…perplexed, to say the least, as to how they planned to make a musical out of a book rather light on whimsy and rather heavy on fascism and subjugation of people of different races. And yes, the musical greatly diminishes the political uprising that is, I would say, about 87% of the book. Honestly though, sitting in that theater, I don’t think I could have told you what the book was about by intermission. That’s how fast it (say it with me, and get used to it!!!) put a handprint on my heart.

The clearest memory I have from that show, the feeling I still remember with startling accuracy: the tiny thrill that went through me when I heard the opening lyrics to “What is This Feeling”:

What is this feeling?
Fervid as a flame
Does it have a name?
Yes!

I remember thinking in the pause that follows, somewhere between five and six seconds, that I was going to have to PLAY IT COOL at intermission if they became girlfriends by the end of act one. And of course, I thought this for no reason at all, for this was surely the way all straight 16-year-old girls felt! God, I can remember my hands, all sweaty in the lap of my beige capris (yes, being 16 in 2004 was humiliating), so certain I was going to see gay witch action. Again, for no reason.

The lyrics continued: “LOATHING!”

I was outraged. That was…cheating! They had tricked me! But then it clicked, and it felt like I had discovered something, a secret wrapped in wordplay I can now admit is over-the-top. A wink, just for the people in the know. It was the first time I remember recognizing subtext in real time. Ironic to think I might have been primed for it had I watched The Wizard of Oz first.

In the spirit of musicals, let’s start at the very beginning, for it is a very good place to start. Much like Gregory Maguire’s books, Frank L Baum’s books — there are 14 in the Oz series — are political. Not quite as overtly political as Maguire’s, Wizard of Oz nonetheless was ahead of its time and faced pushback for “depicting women in leadership roles,” which is…funny but mostly depressing in our current state of political affairs. And of course, there is a long, long history of queerness and witches, starting from oh, I don’t know, time immemorial and lasting until…the AgathaRio shippers on my timeline quiet down? A long time, let’s say.

Then, of course, came the film in 1939. It’s easy to point at the sole presence of Judy Garland and say “case closed, a gay film was made here today.” But everything about the story of the Wizard of Oz tracks neatly to a queer reading, pretty much from the moment Dorothy is stuck at a crossroads and the Scarecrow reminds her “Of course, some people go both ways.” Plus, it’s the story of a ragtag group of misfits traveling, who all discover they are fine the way they are; they just have to believe in themselves. Dorothy leaves a drab farm life to hang out in a technicolor city and gets a pair of cute shoes — a coming out for the ages! “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” is so obvious I don’t even need to say more than the title, do I?

Indeed, in the 1950s and 1960s, The Wizard of Oz was already being claimed by queer audiences, gay men in particular. Though there are a few different accounts of the origins of the term “friend of Dorothy,” many do attribute it to the film. The 2022 A League of Their Own series nodded toward this queer embrace of the film and the “friend of Dorothy” connection in the episode “Stealing Home.”

Wicked takes queer subtext a step further. The first number, “No One Mourns The Wicked” takes place moments after the melting of the Wicked Witch, with Glinda assuring the citizens of Oz there is no longer anything to fear. She is interrupted by a shocking question: Did Glinda know this Wicked Witch? Well, as it happens, yes!

It is Glinda who takes control of the narrative, telling the audience the story of the Wicked Witch’s life, from birth to her first day at “dear old Shiz,” the school where she and Glinda meet. They are enemies throughout much of the first act, with the students of Shiz rallying around Glinda and ostracizing Elphaba for her greenness and general strangeness. Glinda gives Elphaba a very familiar, very black and pointy hat as a joke, intending for everyone to laugh at her at a dance. But when it comes down to it, Glinda can’t stand to watch Elphaba be ostracized, so she joins her on the dance floor. Their friendship blossoms from that moment, and it becomes clear the story Wicked is interested in telling is this *WINK* friendship between these two very different characters.

Even after love interest Fiyero is introduced, even after Elphaba’s desire for him is sung (“I’m Not that Girl”), Wicked makes it clear that the relationship it is the most interested in is Elphaba and Glinda’s. When Elphaba is invited to meet the Wizard, it is Glinda she brings with her, not Fiyero, and when Elphaba realizes the Wizard is just a man with no more power than anyone else, it is Glinda who she wants by her side as she flies off for those Western skies.

I wasn’t the only sweaty-fisted closeted teen watching Elphaba and Glinda sing “What Is This Feeling” and feeling their heart leap into their throat. Thankfully, scholars were paying attention too:

“When the number turns into a ‘hatesong’ like those early ‘hypothetical’ love duets in musicals such as Carousel (1945; ‘If I Loved You’) and Guys and Dolls (1950; ‘I’ll Know’), Wicked signals that it will follow the conventions of mid-twentieth-century musical theater, but queerly, with two women as the musical’s couple.” – Stacy Wolf, “‘Defying Gravity’: Queer Conventions in the Musical ‘Wicked.’” 

The secret of Wicked the musical, the reason it became the phenomenon it became, lies right in that quote. It centers these two women, from the iconic poster to the fact that we don’t meet the male love interest until halfway through act one. And even after Fyiero is introduced, the narrative focus and tension rests on Glinda and Elphaba’s relationship. That monumental moment at the dance is not with him; it’s not even about him at all. It about how important it is that Glinda finally sees Elphaba and accepts her, cementing their *WINK* friendship.

The musical’s second act is primarily occupied with defrauding the Wizard, but the queer arc between Glinda and Elphaba continues, culminating with the song “For Good,” which makes me weep every single time! The entire dramatic point of the musical is that these women made indelible impacts on each other’s lives. Of course, deep and meaningful friendship does that, but there’s still that wink at something more, just like there is in “What Is This Feeling?” I mean, to refer to someone as a “handprint on your heart” is some seriously homoerotic stuff. Their chemistry and complicated love for each other, well, defies gravity.

Now we have the movie, an entirely new portrayal of these iconic characters! Having Cynthia Erivo — an out queer, Black woman — play the role of Elphaba makes her othering feel even more metatextual, even more upsetting. Grande herself has said Glinda is a little bit in the closet, and original Broadway Glinda Kristin Chenoweth agrees. Sure, this press tour has unearthed some of the most theater kid behavior (complimentary) from Cynthia and Ariana, and I can understand, to a point, people being sick of the carrying on.

But this is what theater is for!! Expressions of feelings that are too big to be said, crying in every interview, getting multiple matching tattoos, and holding space for the lyrics of “Defying Gravity” — all of it just heightens the importance of the relationship between Elphaba and Glinda on screen. And through all the silliness and earnestness and tears, I know there is another sweaty-fisted teen out there, probably in a similar pair of capris, listening to “What is This Feeling” and thinking: “Love.”

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