Glinda and Elphaba, unexpectedly thrust together as roommates in their first year at Shiz University, complete opposites in every way - or so it seems. They're writing letters home to their respective families to tell them about college, yet the only thing they can think about (or write about) is each other, as they question what's going on between them:
"What is this feeling? So sudden and new? I felt it from the moment I laid eyes on you. My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling, my face is flushing... What is this feeling, fervid as a flame? Does it have a name?"
Okay, the next word of the song is "LOATHING!", sung with vehemence and certainty, but what baby gay has ever admitted to themself that they have been utterly love-at-first-sight-struck with their roommate? Let alone done anything about it?
We all know the cliches about lesbians living together and adopting pets and going on vacations and not dating anyone else but still being unsure whether they're in a relationship - and we think Glinda and Elphaba (or Gelphie or Elphinda or whatever you want to call them) absolutely ARE in a relationship. A queer relationship. Together. With each other.
Here are five things about Wicked we think prove it.
Come on. Pulse rushing? Head reeling? Face flushing? Those are all classic "OMG I have a crush" responses. And it happens the moment they lay eyes on each other. This is no slow-growing attraction, it's a bolt from the blue. And loathing? The opposite of love isn't hate, it's indifference - and what Glinda and Elphaba feel for each other is as powerful as lust - passion, sparks, arresting inability to look away from one another, stop thinking about each other, stop talking about or needling each other. It's tension. Of the hot kind.
Okay, we're not sure Fiyero is ragingly hetero - the man can MOVE those hips - but he is the object of many a Shiz students' lust, including Glinda and Elphaba. In Glinda's case, he seems like the perfect accessory - handsome, royal, popular - but her feelings don't seem to go any deeper than that (in the first movie, anyway). She doesn't bother getting to know him before declaring they're the perfect match, because on the surface, they are and she knows it.
For Elphaba, the attraction starts out as curiousity - she's not that girl, she sings, until she IS - Fiyero is intrigued by her, and they have a typical opposites-attract kind of meet-cute thing going on. She hides her feelings from everyone, especially Glinda, who's just so OBVIOUS.
But when the two roomies are around each other, Fiyero is just... Not the object of their attention. The most moving, intimate dance at the nightclub? Glinda and Elphaba, hands down. Elphaba urges Glinda, not Fiyero, to jump onto a moving train on its way to Oz. The truth is, when Fiyero's around both of them, he seems to fade into the background.
Also, who cares if they're both attracted to Fiyero? Sometimes he acts camp as F. Glinda and Elphaba (and Fiyero) might be bi. Or pan. Is a polycule in their future? (No spoilers, please.)
Okay, they were forced to live together, but neither of them made too much of an effort to change it - there were no scenes of someone going to the RA and filling in a room-change form. U-Haul lesbians, am I right?
When Elphaba shows up at the club and starts grooving in her own unique way - to the ridicule of her peers - Glinda makes a stunning, revelatory choice and joins her on the dance floor. And she doesn't try to take over or show Elphaba how to dance like one of the popular kids. Instead, she starts mirroring Elphaba's dance moves, without saying a word - but with lots of INTENSE eye contact. Honestly, it's raw and intimate and incredibly charged. Those two are into each other. They just don't know it yet. But to anyone watching, whew, is it hot in here?
Elphaba is an outsider with green skin. She's different. She's "other". She's trying to navigate a world that shuns people like her. And she bucks against convention and societal norms and does her own thing. She may have conformed while she was at home, but once she gets to college, all bets are off and she's on a journey of self-discovery. She chooses herself - and the goosebump-raising song "Defying Gravity" is her queer anthem, with its lyrics celebrating self-acceptance in the face of judgement. She comes out and she embraces her own power. How much more triumphantly queer could she be?
Gregory Maguire, the author of the original novel Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, is an out, gay man who has spoken about creating a world where fluid identities and relationships challenge binary thinking. Much like The Wizard of Oz, where "friends of Dorothy" became a coded nod to someone's queerness, the Broadway musical Wicked is incredibly popular among the rainbow community. Follow the yellow brick road to somewhere over the rainbow and you'll be partying with the other queer folk.
While Wicked the musical softens these elements for broader appeal, the undercurrents are strong: At the heart are two women who form a bond deeper than mere friendship in a world that misunderstands them both. So Wicked is queer-coded. We're willing to fight about it. Right after we see it for the fifth time.
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