Glinda Is an Opp: Privileged, Calculated, and Problematic

Glinda isn’t wicked, but she is evil. I even have a hard time saying that sentence. Glinda is evil. Must be all the societal conditioning convincing us that women who fit the mold—polished, palatable, and pristine—can’t also be dangerous. But that’s Glinda’s whole game: glittering charm wrapped in privilege, wielded not to inspire but to maintain control.

Her beauty? It isn’t exceptional—it’s engineered by a somehow eurocentric standard system (even within fiction) designed to exclude. It’s the kind of beauty that has Black girls chasing academic perfection, overcompensating for what society insists we lack. It’s exclusion masked as allure, an illusion that tells us we’ll never measure up.

Glinda’s glitter doesn’t illuminate; it distracts. It shifts focus from the oppressive systems she upholds to the sparkle she wears. Her power doesn’t disrupt—it blinds, asking you to accept the surface so you won’t look deeper. Meanwhile, the systems she benefits from remain intact, thriving on illusion.

Elphaba’s greenness reminds me of Black women and our relationship with the world. Her green skin isn’t just a physical trait—it’s a marker of her otherness, a refusal to conform. In Oz, green is celebrated as fashion, a trend people wear to signal allegiance to the Wizard. But for Elphaba, green isn’t a choice—it’s her truth, her essence, and that’s why they fear her.

The world loves green when it’s performative or trendy, but when it’s inherent—raw and untamable—it’s rejected. This is how Black beauty and culture are treated: embraced as aesthetics, stripped of context and meaning. Everyone wants to borrow from Blackness, but no one wants to carry its weight.

Elphaba’s greenness is raw power (side note: green in energy healing is symbolic of abundance, love, vitality, the earth itself – very similar to the Melanin complexions of Black bodies representing the soil, this is important context), but it makes her a target. Oz loves green when it’s draped on others but vilifies it when it’s her skin, her truth, her existence (think the organic movement, the whitewashed wellness colonizing ancestral wisdom and technologies). Just like Black women, Elphaba is punished for embodying the very qualities society pretends to admire.

And Glinda? From the moment they’re forced to room together, Glinda treats Elphaba worse than the Dursleys treated Harry Potter.

But unlike Harry who in true average white male lore – inherited friends, wealth, and a legacy – Elphaba is left isolated & jaded (I’m assuming the pun is intended). Glinda weaponizes her privilege to make Elphaba an outsider. When she could of used her influence to out the real Villian – a mediocre white man, the Wizard. Yet despite it all, Elphaba extends grace. She helps Glinda access the power she desperately craves, offering her a chance to rise above superficiality.

But Glinda never takes it. Instead, she upholds the system that Elphaba hoped to dismantle.

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Glinda’s relationship with Elphaba isn’t sisterhood—it’s exploitation. Even their “bonding” moments, like the forced makeover scene (while she’s literally calling Elphaba raggedy AF in Popular) or the secret handshake before Elphaba leaves meets the Wizard (who she later finesses her way into meeting) feel hollow. It’s a gesture that symbolizes the kind of empty allyship we see in real life: symbolic acts that look supportive but demand nothing real.

When standing with Elphaba would require bravery, Glinda chooses her comfort. She upholds the lie of Elphaba’s wickedness, ensuring her own privilege remains untouched. This dynamic reflects the exhausting reality Black women face—giving endlessly while being met with shallow gestures in return.

We’ve seen it before: the blue bracelets of solidarity, whispered promises to “do better,” and performative allyship that leaves the heavy lifting to us. Just like the 92% of Black women who voted to protect democracy in the recent U.S. election, we’re asked to save systems that rarely save us. Glinda’s actions perpetuate this cycle, ensuring that systemic oppression continues while dressing it up as niceness.

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Glinda’s beauty doesn’t transform—it distracts. It’s performative and shallow, demanding compliance and acceptance while keeping you from seeing the lies beneath.

Elphaba’s beauty, however, is transformative. It disrupts. It forces you to confront truths you’ve been taught to ignore. Her beauty is an expression of Source’s love—a kind of energy that challenges everything it touches. But in Oz, as in our world, that kind of beauty is terrifying.

Elphaba’s beauty is her power. It disrupts, inspires, and reveals the cracks in systems built on conformity. Glinda’s glitter keeps you complacent, while Elphaba’s beauty demands you wake up. But that awakening comes at a cost—one that society often demands Black women pay.

Had Elphaba been given the support to embrace her magic, she wouldn’t have needed Glinda’s approval. But like so many Black women, Elphaba wasn’t afforded the space to own her power. Instead, she’s punished for the brilliance the world pretends to celebrate but truly wanted to control.

Glinda might sparkle, but Elphaba holds the real magic. Wicked reminds us what happens when power is misunderstood and brilliance is weaponized. It’s a story that mirrors the fragile systems in our world—a society desperate to maintain control through glittering distractions.

This is why The Dark Divines exists: to dismantle those distractions, redefine beauty, and reclaim power. True beauty, like Elphaba’s, isn’t safe or small. It stops you in your tracks. It demands transformation. Glinda’s glitter asks you to stay asleep, but Elphaba’s magic wakes you up.

I owe so much of this perspective to the brilliant creators on TikTok who have been dissecting this story through fresh lenses—@fantasticfrankey, @cam333r0n, @just_liketeezus, @horacegold, and countless others who gave me the insight and language to unpack these dynamics. And of course, to God for letting this one flow.

To the Glindas: Your glitter might feel like power, but it’s a leash. It works only as long as the system allows it. And when the glitter fades—and it will—you’ll realize it was never protection.

To the Elphabas: Let them call you wicked. Let them misunderstand your magic. You don’t need their approval, their lies, or their shallow gestures. You are the expression of Source’s love—disruptive, undeniable, and transformative.

Glinda might sparkle, but you? Your the magic. The force they will never control. True beauty doesn’t conform—it reshapes the world around it.

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