Wicked's Tale of Power and Pain Reflects the Struggles of Women of Color in Leadership

Written by: Talee Vang, PsyD

Disclaimer: The photos used in this blog post are for illustrative purposes only and do not belong to Dr. Talee Vang or Talee Global. All images are sourced from licensed or public domains and are intended to complement the content of the post.

Spoiler Alert: This article reveals details about the film

As a woman of color in executive leadership, watching Wicked felt like staring into a mirror. The story sang to a tune that mirrored my own struggles—and those of countless women of color—navigating spaces that were never built for us. The movie, like our lives, is a testament to fighting for justice in a world that often sees us as outsiders, challenges our worth, and marginalizes our presence.

Women of color must fight through layers of exclusion. We are often told we are not good enough, that we don't belong, or that we don’t fit the prevailing standards of beauty or competence. Even within our own communities, internalized racism and sexism can deny us support, leaving us isolated. We are burdened by the cumulative effect of our multiple intersecting identities—the compounded experiences of oppression due to our race, gender, and other minoritized identities.

Rising to executive leadership as a woman of color is a feat of resilience. But the challenges don’t stop there. Too often, our successes are undermined by claims that we were promoted only because of affirmative action. Others, seeing our power and passion, may hitch their ambitions to ours, only to abandon or betray us when the fight for justice becomes risky or when they find opportunities to serve their own goals. This mirrors what we see in Wicked: the people around Elphaba—the so-called Wicked Witch of the West—use her, reject her, and villainize her when it suits their agenda.

A Parable of America’s Whitelash

Wicked depicts a society that scapegoats the Animals, stripping them of rights and dignity to unify Oz. This mirrors the construction of racism in America, where whiteness was invented to consolidate power, and Blackness was cast as the "other." The parallels are striking: just as Oz united against the Animals, America has long united against communities of color, creating systems and policies to oppress, exclude, exploit, and silence.

This dynamic echoes the current backlash against diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) efforts across the nation. Many organizations rushed to hire DEI executives without understanding that lived experience alone does not qualify someone to dismantle systemic inequities. Now, as we face a "whitelash," many of those same organizations are dismantling DEI efforts, declaring the work too controversial or costly. This leaves those of us in the trenches—those who fought for equity long before it was trendy—isolated and vilified.

In Wicked, the poppies put everyone to sleep except Elphaba and Fiyero, symbolizing what true "wokeness" means: the courage to remain aware of injustices and respond to them, even when it’s easier to ignore. When the Wizard—Oz’s ultimate authority—is revealed as a fraud who perpetuates oppression, Elphaba’s heartbreak resonates deeply. For immigrants and refugees like me, it reflects the disillusionment of arriving in a land we thought was a beacon of hope, only to find it perpetuates the very systems of oppression we sought to escape.

The Loneliness of Leadership

Elphaba’s refusal to conform, to seek the Wizard’s approval, or to trade her integrity for power is a story I know well. Women of color in leadership often face this choice: bend to oppressive systems for acceptance and prestige, or stand firm and risk isolation. It is a lonely, often heart-wrenching path. Like Elphaba, we are surrounded by Galindas—those who say the right things but act otherwise—and Wizards, who construct systems of inequity while presenting themselves as saviors.

Even in our victories, we know how the story ends. The oppressors who win the battles often rewrite history, casting those who fought for justice as villains. Elphaba’s erasure—her transformation into a figure to be feared and hated—is the story of countless women of color in leadership. We are backstabbed, exploited, humiliated, and rejected. Yet we persist, not out of bitterness, but because justice demands it.

America: The Land of Oz

Watching Wicked, I wept. I wept for the times people of color have been erased, for the betrayals we have endured, and for the lonely road of leadership as a woman of color. But I also wept for the hope it inspired. Elphaba’s story reminds us that stepping into our own power, embracing our truths, and fighting for justice—even when the world tries to silence us—is a victory in itself.

As we head into a new year, America must decide whether it will continue to be the land of Oz—a place of systemic inequities, performative allies, and manufactured enemies—or whether it will awaken. For those of us fighting for justice, the battle is far from over. And while it is lonely at the top, we will keep calling others to join us on the train to equity, refusing to let bitterness win.

Like Elphaba, we will rise—defying gravity, defying expectations, and refusing to be erased.