The Best Part of Wicked Wasn't on the Stage
On Tuesday evening, I was fortunate to attend to Broadway show Wicked, a musical phenomenon, a show that has taught people so many valuable lessons to so many people – young and old.
If you are not familiar with the show, the show tells the back story of the Wizard of Oz’s Wicked Witch of the West, Elphaba, and the Good Witch of the North, Galinda or Glinda (depending on where you land with this debate). The 1939 movie depicts the Wicked Witch as the evil villain who is after 1 thing, the Ruby Red Slippers, and her determination to get her hands on said slippers, no matter who gets hurt in the process. In the movie, the Wicked Witch is shown with a green face, a large, pointed nose, a pointy black hat, and a shrill voice. Her mode of transportation: an old broomstick. The movie shows Glinda with blonde, curly hair, a sparkly crown, a pink frilly dress, a kind voice, and a beautiful wand. Her mode of transportation: a translucent bubble that floats effortlessly through the air. In the movie, they are enemies.
Fast forward to 2003. Wicked premiers on Broadway giving the audience an entirely different perspective on these said enemies. It takes the audience back to the beginning, when Glinda and Elphaba were classmates together at Shiz University. While journeying through this show, the audience is shown a very different reality of the relationship between Glinda and Elphaba. One learns that there are more similarities than differences between the two classmates. They are both ambitious, highly intelligent, fiercely loyal to those they love, and outcasts in their own ways. Once they move past their initial rivalry, both develop an unbreakable bond. They bring out the best in one another and share a deep, unconditional love that guides their ultimate choices at the end of their story. And although they chose different paths, they ultimately try to honor one another.
Back to Tuesday night. I was fortunate enough to see Wicked for the 3rd time. As we got to our seats, I quickly saw that I would be sitting next to a 5-year old girl, dressed in a witch’s costume, green painted face, painted freckles, and a pointy hat. She quickly told me she has never seen the Broadway Show, but she has seen the movie – I am assuming the 2024 version, but she very well could have seen both movies (1939 and 2024). She was so excited. She could not sit still. She was on a “date” with her dad, and they were having the best time. It was so fun to watch her face light up with joy. When they show began, she periodically leaned over to me and whispered her perspective, her “facts,” her overall thoughts. Some of my favorites include: “I like Elphaba. Glinda needs to get it together.” “I like Elphaba’s freckles. I don’t have freckles, but my dad painted them on my face because I like them.” “You know, that’s not real fire, right?” “Glinda shapes up in the end.” It was a joy to spend 3 hours sitting next to this wonderful little human being.
UNTIL…
A couple sitting in front of us turned around. They told us to be quiet and to stop singing.
Now, as a lifelong Broadway fan, I understand. There is an unwritten code in the theater. Talking through a performance can be distracting. Singing along is frustrating for everyone around you. I get it.
But here's the thing. This little girl wasn't singing. And neither was I.
Every now and then, she would lean over to whisper what she was thinking. She was five years old. She tried to whisper. Sometimes it probably wasn't as quiet as she thought it was. But these weren't constant interruptions. They were the spontaneous observations of a child experiencing Broadway magic for what was likely one of the first times.
I wasn't about to ignore her. How could I? Her joy was contagious. Thankfully, she never heard what the couple said. My friend and I did. And I couldn't help but think about the irony.
The entire message of Wicked is about looking beyond first impressions. It's about how easily we judge someone because they don't fit our expectations. It's about choosing empathy over assumptions, kindness over criticism, and seeing the person before the label.
If they had been listening as closely to the story as they were to the tiny whispers behind them, maybe they would have seen what we saw: not a disruption, but a little girl completely captivated by something beautiful.
Sometimes we become so focused on protecting our own experience that we miss the opportunity to be part of someone else's joy.
That little girl wasn't ruining Wicked. In many ways, she was living its message.
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