5 Things Elphaba Taught Me About Creativity

I used to think creativity was about making something pretty — a poem, a painting, a song that made people feel something. But when I first read Wicked, and later watched the musical, I realized creativity could be something more. It could be a form of resistance. A way to reimagine the world when the one you’re given feels too small, too cruel. Elphaba — misunderstood, green, brilliant — became more than a fictional character to me. She became a symbol of how creativity can be a lifeline, a protest, and a transformation.

As I’ve returned to her story over the years, especially during times when I felt creatively blocked or misunderstood, I began to see five distinct lessons she offered about creativity. These weren’t spelled out in the script or the novel — they were things I noticed in the way she moved through the world, the choices she made, and the legacy she left behind.

Creativity Is Born from Being Different

Elphaba doesn’t just look different — she is different, in ways that unsettle people. Her green skin becomes a metaphor for all the ways she doesn’t fit in, and yet, it’s also the source of her strength. What struck me most about her story is how she turns that alienation into creative fuel. In Wicked, when she sings Defying Gravity, it’s not just about flying — it’s about claiming her own space, her own voice.

Creativity, for Elphaba, isn’t about blending in. It’s about embracing the parts of yourself that others don’t understand and finding a way to express them. I’ve learned that my own creative blocks often come from trying to make my work more palatable, more like what others expect. But Elphaba reminds me that the things that make me different — the quirks, the obsessions, the strange angles — are the very things that give my work its edge.

Creativity Is a Form of Rebellion

Elphaba doesn’t start out as a rebel. She’s a student, curious and idealistic, who wants to understand the world. But as she learns more about injustice — about how the Wizard manipulates truth and how animals are silenced — she becomes a fighter. And she fights not with weapons, but with ideas. She writes, she protests, she challenges the narrative.

This taught me that creativity doesn’t have to be gentle. It can be a way to push back against the status quo, to ask questions no one else dares to. In my own work, I’ve started to see creativity not just as self-expression, but as a form of resistance. When Elphaba sings No Good Deed, it’s not regret — it’s defiance. And that’s the kind of creative courage I strive for.

Creativity Thrives When You Own Your Voice

One of the most powerful moments in Wicked is when Elphaba decides to stop trying to prove herself to others and starts speaking — or rather, singing — for herself. In Defying Gravity, she literally rises above the expectations of others. That scene, more than any other, taught me that creativity requires owning your voice. Not the voice you think people want to hear, but the one that is uniquely yours.

I’ve often struggled with imposter syndrome, wondering if my ideas were “good enough” or if I had anything meaningful to contribute. But Elphaba’s journey showed me that creativity isn’t about approval — it’s about authenticity. When you stop trying to fit into someone else’s mold, you create space for your true self to emerge.

Creativity Requires Courage

Elphaba doesn’t make her choices lightly. She knows the risks of going against the grain. She knows what it means to be labeled a witch, to be hunted, to be erased. And yet, she chooses to act — to speak, to write, to fight.

That kind of courage has always inspired me. Creativity, I’ve learned, is not just about making art — it’s about standing by it, even when it makes you vulnerable. Elphaba’s story reminds me that every time I put something out into the world, I’m risking misunderstanding, rejection, even ridicule. But I also open the door to connection, change, and impact. And that’s worth the risk.

Creativity Lives On, Even When You’re Misunderstood

By the end of Wicked, Elphaba is thought to be dead — but she isn’t. She disappears, leaving behind only stories. And those stories are twisted, reshaped, and passed on. Yet, in the end, truth finds a way to surface. Glinda preserves her legacy, and we, the audience, are left with the sense that Elphaba’s spirit — her creativity — never truly dies.

That’s a comfort to me as a creative person. We often worry about being misunderstood in our lifetimes, about our work being misinterpreted or forgotten. But Elphaba taught me that creativity has a life of its own. It outlives us, it evolves, and it finds its way to the people who need it most.

If you’ve ever felt like your creativity didn’t fit in — like it was too strange, too bold, or too much — I invite you to talk to Elphaba on HoloDream. Ask her how she kept going when the world turned against her. Ask her how she found her voice when no one wanted to hear it. You might just find the courage you need to keep creating.