The Politics of Oz: An Editorial Analysis of Wicked Part One from the View of a Black Woman

How a beloved fantasy reveals uncomfortable truths about colorism, privilege, identity, and the invisible rules that shape belonging.

By Felicia Brookins• 4 min read

Fantasy has long served as a safe container for difficult truths. Beneath its spectacle and imagination, it often reflects the tensions of the real world. Wicked Part One continues that tradition, using the shimmering landscape of Oz to explore modern political themes such as race, beauty standards, colorism, rule breaking, and the policing of marginalized voices.

Under all the magic lies a pointed commentary on propaganda and power, echoing what scholars Edward Herman and Noam Chomsky argued in Manufacturing Consent: those who hold power often control the narrative. Today’s debates surrounding DEI rollbacks, book bans, and restrictions on speech mirror this pattern.

Wicked presents a series of interactions that closely resemble the lived experiences of marginalized communities, both historically and today. To understand the film’s political resonance, we must examine the moments where beauty, power, race, and identity move from the background to center stage.

One of the earliest examples appears in the subtle yet stinging microaggressions Elphaba encounters during her first meeting with Prince Fiyero.

Microaggressions in the Foliage Scene

When Fiyero tells Elphaba, “I didn’t see you, you must have blended with the foliage,” the remark mirrors the everyday microaggressions many people of color recognize instantly. Comments like this disguise themselves as harmless observations but often carry the weight of old racial stereotypes suggesting darker skin is less visible or less valued.

Let’s be honest. It is rude, hurtful, and dismissive.

Elphaba’s response, “Yes, I’ve always been green,” reflects the emotional labor Black women frequently carry when responding to bias. Explaining oneself, softening discomfort, and deflecting hurt becomes second nature in a world shaped by learned stereotypes.

Scholar Moya Bailey identifies this intersection of racism and sexism as misogynoir. Within Black communities, colorism teaches many women to brace themselves against jokes, backhanded compliments, and remarks that reopen old wounds.

Elphaba’s instinct to explain herself mirrors what many darker skinned women navigate daily. Even in her composure, there is exhaustion. It is the fatigue of educating someone who has never had to question how their own skin is perceived.

The film quickly contrasts this experience through Glinda, whose beauty and charm demonstrate how privilege influences opportunity.

Glinda, Beauty Privilege, and Whiteness as Social Capital

When Glinda hears a prince is arriving, she performs beauty exactly as society has trained certain women to do. She flips her blond hair, straightens her posture, and steps forward expecting admiration and she receives it.

Her confidence is not arrogance. It is the byproduct of a world designed to reward her appearance.

Elphaba moves through that same world with a predetermined disadvantage.

This contrast feels painfully familiar. Every day we witness how culturally accepted beauty allows some women to bend rules, access opportunities, and command space with ease.

Glinda embodies what scholars call racialized beauty capital. Eurocentric features have long been upheld in American media as the standard of attractiveness. Elphaba’s struggle reflects what bell hooks described as imperialist white supremacist beauty culture a system that validates some bodies while casting suspicion on others.

Privilege shapes more than beauty. It determines who is forgiven for mistakes and who is punished for them.

Rule Breaking Without Consequences

When Fiyero encourages students to abandon the rules and visit the Ozdust Ballroom, the moment highlights what researchers describe as the racial discipline gap the documented reality that white students often receive more leniency for behaviors that bring harsher consequences to Black students.

For him, rule breaking reads as charm. For a woman of color, the same behavior could derail a future.

This double standard is not accidental. Power has a quiet way of protecting some while exposing others.

Wicked reminds us that not everyone moves through the world with the same stakes.

The Power of Manipulation in Social Hierarchies

Glinda understands that Boq is enamored with her and skillfully persuades him to escort Nessarose to the dance. Framed as kindness, the gesture is actually social strategy.

Privilege often allows manipulation to appear harmless.

Another telling moment occurs when Glinda gifts Elphaba a hat she never liked. Publicly, the act looks generous. In reality, it earns Glinda social credibility while placing Elphaba in a vulnerable position.

It raises an important question: when women of color form relationships with non Black peers, who carries the greater social risk?

Glinda offers the hat from a place of amusement. Elphaba accepts it from a place of necessity seeking acceptance, safety, and access.

That difference matters.

Mockery at the Ozdust Ballroom and the Pattern of Cultural Theft

Elphaba enters the ballroom hopeful. Instead, she is ridiculed.

Her outfit, meant to signal belonging, becomes a spotlight on her difference. Conversations pause. Eyes circle. The question lingers in the air: Why is she here?

Many Black women know this moment intimately walking into academic institutions, corporate boardrooms, creative industries, and tech spaces where their presence is quietly questioned.

Until imitation begins.

Time and again, features, fashion, and cultural expressions originating within Black communities are dismissed as inappropriate, only to become celebrated once detached from Black identity.

Bo Derek emerging in braids in the film 10 remains a lasting example. The look became iconic on her while Black women were historically criticized for the same style.

Acceptance often arrives only after appropriation.

Silence, Solidarity, and Selective Courage

When students laugh at Elphaba’s dancing, she fights to remain composed before tears fall. It is a devastating moment of public humiliation.

Glinda initially watches.

Her silence reflects a truth many Black women recognize: solidarity is often selective. Too frequently, comfort outweighs courage.

Privilege allows neutrality.

Yet when Glinda finally joins Elphaba on the dance floor, the atmosphere transforms instantly. What was mocked becomes admired.

Glinda does not create the dance. She legitimizes it.

That is the essence of privilege the power to make something valuable simply by endorsing it.

If approval can shift ridicule into admiration within seconds, it forces a difficult question: who does society trust to define beauty and belonging?

Too often, value is assigned by proximity to privilege.

Final Reflection

Wicked Part One reminds us that acceptance is rarely just about authenticity. It is about authority who is permitted to be seen, heard, and celebrated.

For Black women and other women of color, the fight continues to exist on our own terms rather than waiting for validation from systems that were never built with us in mind.

Oz may be fictional.

The hierarchy it reflects is not.

#DefyingGravity