Here’s a bold truth: the beloved musical Wicked has a glaring issue that’s impossible to ignore—and it’s not just about magic and friendship. This week, theaters across the country will be filled with young girls in emerald-green or bubblegum-pink dresses, eagerly awaiting the second installment of this enchanting story. As a parent, I’d be torn. While the film promises whimsy and wonder, there’s an elephant in the room—or rather, a wafer-thin one. The character of Glinda, the 'goodest' witch in Oz, is portrayed with a waist so impossibly narrow, it’s hard not to feel uneasy. And this is the part most people miss: Ariana Grande, who dazzled as Glinda in the first film, appears so frail that every twirl makes you worry she might break. Fast forward a few years, and her press tour for Wicked: For Good reveals a figure even more delicate—collarbones jutting, dresses hanging loosely, ribs visible. Cynthia Erivo, who plays Elphaba, has also visibly lost weight, raising questions about the cultural messages we’re sending to young audiences.
Parents are constantly navigating what’s safe or risky for their children to consume. What stories are harmless, and which ones carry hidden dangers? Which role models are truly worthy of admiration? These fears often fuel cultural debates, and one of the unexpected offshoots of the #MeToo movement was a backlash against animated princesses. In 2017, The Guardian declared, based on research, that Disney princesses perpetuate ‘limiting’ gender stereotypes and contribute to body image issues in young girls. Tiny waists and glittering gowns were no longer seen as harmless fantasy but as a public health concern. This sparked a progressive shift: Disney began redesigning its heroines. Moana was given an athletic build, Raya sported visible biceps, and even Minnie Mouse traded her iconic dress for a pantsuit. But here’s where it gets controversial: if we’ve moved toward celebrating diverse and realistic body types in animation, why are we still accepting such extreme thinness in live-action roles?
Glinda and Elphaba, in the flesh, appear even more fragile than their animated counterparts. So, what’s the rule? Don’t comment, don’t question? It’s a tough pill to swallow. As we cheer for these characters’ empowerment on screen, we must also ask: Are we inadvertently teaching young girls that beauty requires shrinking? What do you think? Is this a harmless artistic choice, or a missed opportunity to challenge outdated ideals? Let’s discuss in the comments—because this conversation is far from over.
