What Wicked Teaches Us About Identity, Belonging, and Mental Health

Why so many of us see ourselves in Elphaba, Glinda, or both.

Broadway doesn’t always get mental health right, but Wicked comes remarkably close. In the story of two young women who couldn’t be more different on the surface, we find something deeply human underneath: the longing to belong, the pain of being misunderstood, and the messy process of figuring out who we are when the world has already decided for us.

Most people don’t walk into therapy asking, “Which Wicked character am I?” (Though honestly, it wouldn’t be the worst icebreaker.) But the emotional themes woven throughout the show mirror the exact patterns many of us bring into the therapy room.

Let’s talk about it.

Elphaba: The Weight of Otherness, Trauma, and Being “Too Much”

Elphaba is the character many people unexpectedly identify with. She grows up “othered,” judged before she speaks, and taught to shrink herself so others feel more comfortable. For clients with histories of trauma, emotional neglect, or feeling fundamentally “different,” Elphaba’s arc lands hard.

Her story speaks to:

• Complex trauma and identity confusion

Elphaba never gets to decide who she is — everyone decides for her. People with complex trauma often internalize the same message: “My identity is based on how others perceive me, not how I see myself.”

• Nervous system hypervigilance

Always scanning, always bracing, always anticipating rejection.
She doesn’t call it trauma; she just calls it her life.

• Internalized shame

“Something about me is wrong.”
“People only see the worst in me.”
Sound familiar?

• The turning point: Defying Gravity

I believe her famous rebellion isn’t about anger, it’s about finally reclaiming the narrative.
Many clients reach a similar moment in therapy: “If I can’t be what everyone wants, maybe I can finally be myself.”

Glinda: People-Pleasing, Perfectionism, and the Pressure to Stay Likable

Glinda is bubbly, sparkly, and adored…but she’s also exhausted.

So many clients relate to her polished exterior: the smiling through disappointment, the constant performing, the desperate hope that if you're perfect enough, no one will leave.

Glinda’s story highlights:

• People-pleasing as survival

Her likability becomes her armor.
She hustles for approval because it feels like safety, like belonging.

• Perfectionism as identity

Glinda isn’t allowed to fail, or even be human.
Many of us learn early that being lovable is conditional on being:

• agreeable

• pleasant

• high-achieving

• never angry

• never messy

• Attachment wounds

Her biggest fear isn’t being disliked, it’s being alone.
People-pleasing often grows from early experiences where connection felt fragile.

• The heartbreak of realizing perfection won’t save you

Glinda eventually learns that doing everything “right” doesn’t protect her from pain.
For many clients, therapy becomes the first place they can exhale and stop performing.

The Glinda–Elphaba Dynamic: A Mirror of Real-Life Relationships

Their friendship is often described as unlikely, but emotionally it makes perfect sense.

• Elphaba longs to be seen but fears intimacy.

• Glinda longs to be loved but fears rejection.

Together, they step into vulnerability in ways neither could alone.

This mirrors many attachment-based dynamics in therapy and in relationships:

• One person is guarded and self-protective.

• The other is accommodating and approval-seeking.

• Both are longing for connection but afraid of it at the same time.

Why Wicked Hits So Close to Home

Because it’s a story about the narratives we inherit, and the ones we choose to rewrite.

It reminds us:

• You can be misunderstood your whole life and still be worthy of love.

• You can be adored by everyone and still feel lonely.

• You can hold both strength and softness.

• You can choose a different path, even if no one believes in you yet.

• And healing often starts when you stop trying to be the version of yourself the world wrote for you.

What Therapy Offers (That Even Oz Couldn’t)

Therapy becomes a place to explore your inner Elphaba, your inner Glinda, or both without judgment.

It’s a space to ask:

• Who am I when I’m not performing?

• What parts of me have I hidden to feel safe?

• What stories about myself came from trauma, not truth?

• What would it look like to step into a life that actually fits me?

You don’t have to defy gravity to rewrite your story — just take one honest, compassionate step at a time.