Wicked Injustice

Hey, wasn’t this supposed to be a comedy?

Between the bubble-gum soundtrack and Glinda’s glamorous costume changes, there was a very dark core to this story. We learn that the villain, The Wicked Witch of the West, as she is known to all of us who are familiar with The Wizard of Oz, is really the hero. A hero who is relentlessly beaten down and alienated until she has to give up fighting for what is right. A martyr whose story is silenced by the booming voice of the misguided victors.

Then the show was over, and I was crying all right. Sitting in my red velvet seat, I felt urgency, echoes of the familiar in the otherwise “fantasy” plot, the severe injustice, the helpless victims, the tyranny; allegories to histories I know are true.

Fat, hot tears rolling down my face, I glanced around the theater and did not see a single other person feeling anything close to what I felt. And that’s when I really began to cry.