Just came back from seeing Wicked in theaters, and I’m pleased to say that I agree with everyone about how wonderful the adaptation from stage to screen is. I forgot to bring tissues, although I always cry for “No One Mourns the Wicked” and “Defying Gravity.” Like a lot of people, I’ve always identified with Elphaba, and like a lot of people, I also have to contend with the Glinda in me.

Chu’s movie and Erivo’s interpretation of her role brought a lot of profound, rich elements to Elphaba’s story. There’s no escaping how much Erivo brings her blackness into her depiction, although the world of Oz itself doesn’t seem to be as concerned with race or size, as shown by prominent depictions of all kinds of people, including those considered less-than, soulless, or cursed in our world (I noticed little people at the Emerald City, an albino student of African descent, and lots of gingers). Nod to Bowen Yang for “I don’t see color.” (Indeed, disability seems to be the notable exception, and that more out of general ignorance rather than a lack of effort on the part of Ozians.) Better people than I have commented on how Elphaba’s clothes and dancing were ridiculed until mimicked by a white girl, comparable to the co-opting of black culture for white consumption. And there was that beautiful moment when pink light showed Cynthia’s own skin tone when Elphaba was imagining no longer being green.

There’s also no escaping the romantic undertones in the friendship between Elphaba and Glinda, although the world of Oz seems to be welcome to various sexualities and, as shown by the universal reaction to Fiyero, runs quite bisexual and gender neutral, as shown through Shiz uniforms (reminiscent of the Next Generation Enterprise in its first episode, when a man wore a mini-skirt on board, although it eventually shifted to what we call unisex today, which considered masculine bodies and clothes a default neutral). This was by design first by Maguire, who made it more over- than undertone, then shifted more to a vibe by Schwartz; both men are gay.

Elphaba is representative of no one thing, because all of our vulnerable groups are just that: groups, communities, umbrellas. Elphaba is truly and utterly alone, though many of us in vulnerable groups still feel alone, isolated, especially if we’re not connected to a community. We can feel like there’s none like us, but we have the benefit of knowing we aren’t the only one of our kind. Elphaba does not. So she becomes the ultimate Other, for those of us alone and hated for what we are to look to and identify with.

Neither Maguire nor Schwartz were prescient; all things old are new again, and ever shall it be. Maguire grew up and through the AIDS crisis as a gay man. It’s no surprise that he referenced it in his novel through a character experiencing a debilitating sexually transmitted illness and being tended to by Elphaba alone—again alone. Schwartz’s musical came out when the gay and lesbian community was only just beginning to get traction in media representation showing that they weren’t predators and were just trying to live their lives in love. The sapphic vibe kept Elphaba and Glinda more palatable, gateway lesbian romance for the time, and left room for the equally important friendship.

What ached so deeply in my heart through “Defying Gravity” during this viewing, though, also seemed very intentional on Chu’s part. Or maybe it didn’t even need to be intentional, because it’s always there: the common enemy made of vulnerable people who are too easy to make hated, not because of what they do but because of who they are. First the Animals (capitalized to differentiate from those who do not speak), who were at one point completely integrated into the Oz world and then gradually discriminated against until they were squashed into silence and loss of their identity. The Animals didn’t do anything. The Wizard just brought his prejudices from our world into Oz, and they were convenient to blame after economic hardship (sound familiar?).

You can’t avoid the parallels Wicked makes with the world we’re in, even though they were post-production well before the election and could not have known who would win. And you can’t avoid who seems to be the Wicked Witch of the Western World now. While watching Erivo run, then take her flying stand as the citizens scream “Kill her!” and Madame Morrible says with such relish, “Her green skin is but an outward manifestorium of her twisted nature. This distortion! This repulsion! This wicked witch!,” it is impossible not to see my trans brothers and sisters in this demonization.

It is impossible not to recall the fear-mongering election ads and articles depicting trans people as repulsive and distortions, as predators, as sick, and how the other side really made no effort to combat the monstrous rhetoric, in an effort to protect themselves and because they truly don’t care. It is impossible not to recall the same viciousness and indifference, with the exact same phrases, used against gays and lesbians less than fifteen years ago (before Obama’s ‘evolving’ opinions). Yet enough gays and lesbians now were willing to throw trans people under the bus, presenting themselves as the ‘good queers,’ assuming incorrectly that they aren’t going to be the next (and present) targets. In addition, it is no coincidence that Elphaba is an analog to trans and intersex in the books, although that element wasn’t included in the musical.

All throughout “Defying Gravity,” my heart broke for my trans brothers and sisters who sit with me under our particular umbrella. As the Wizard says, “The best way to bring folks together is to give them a real good enemy.” This is what the culture war is: Distract from the real villainy that people are doing by pointing them in the direction of a small, vulnerable population and condemning what they are, often through bad-faith misunderstandings and outright lies. It’s also no coincidence, of course, that Dr. Dillamond is a literal scape-Goat.

Part of me wishes that this movie had come out before the election. Another part of me knows that enough people who have loved the musical and movie may not see Glinda in themselves or the Wizard in those they idolize. They may only see in Elphaba the rebel they want to be but not the terribly alone and exiled woman she is. Again, it seems to be no coincidence that people of all races, gender identities, and sexualities at Shiz were afraid of, hated, and bullied Elphaba, and how minorities so rarely seem to rally for each other in solidarity, out of either unconscious or fully conscious fear they’ll be targeted next. Much easier to have them scramble for scraps of approval. If anything, I felt like the fact that races, sizes, and queerness being depicted as acceptable while Animals and Elphaba were discriminated against highlighted the truly arbitrary nature of discrimination. (Which again brings to mind Star Trek, but this time the Original Series, “Let That Be Your Last Battlefield.”)

Wicked has been relevant for much longer than it has existed, and it remains all too relevant today. We’ve still been so easily manipulated into misplaced fears about incredibly vulnerable people, even though they’re far more at risk for the things we’re afraid of them for, and all too often by the people who are afraid of them in the first place.

If your heart aches like mine and brings you to tears during “Defying Gravity,” I hope you can take that pain and recognize who has become the Animals and the Wicked Witch in our world. If this would not have galvanized you into action before, let it galvanize you now. Because the culture war of distraction continues, the Animals are losing their voices with each book ban, court case, and piece of legislation, and there’s no prophesied Witch in sight.