The Ballroom Scene in Wicked: A Relatable Moment for Autistic People

Disclaimers: 

Land Acknowledgment: We live and work on the unseated territories of the Wahpekute and Chumash peoples, we pay respects to their elders past and present. We encourage folks to explore the ancestral lands they live and work on, and to learn about the Native communities that live there, the treaties that have been broken. If folks feel called, we encourage them to consider taking actions to support Native communities, reparations, and land back movements (see other resources on the references page).

A note on language: The language in the DSM, including the use of the word disorder (D in acronym), some find this harmful, while others prefer the language “disorder.” When this language is used, it is because, as mental health professionals, we need to use this same language when referring to “diagnoses” in the DSM. In addition some Autistics find the use of the level system helpful in identifying the level of support needed, while others view it as an overly simplistic way of defining something that’s fluid, and may feel it’s harmful and minimizing. The beauty is that each individual gets to choose what language feels validating and affirming to them. Inspired by Dr. Jennifer Mullan, we use the term, “therapy participant” rather than “client” or “patient,” as we work toward decolonizing therapy. 

Educational Purposes: The information presented here is for educational purposes, and not meant to diagnose, treat or cure medical conditions or challenges, including neurodivergence (including mental health challenges), or physical health.

In the musical Wicked, the ballroom scene stands out as one of the most powerful and emotionally charged moments. For many autistic people, this scene resonates deeply, capturing the bittersweet hope of connection, the sting of misunderstanding, and the longing to be truly seen.

(Image Description: Ballroom Scene from Wicked: Part One, Elphaba cries quietly after intense dance scene due a mixture of emotions, Glinda holds her face gently to comfort her.)

A Glimmer of Hope

The ballroom scene starts with a sliver of hope. Elphaba, who has often been misunderstood and ostracized, enters a space where she dares to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. For autistic individuals, this moment mirrors the times when we enter social situations with optimism, hoping for connection. It’s that fleeting hope that someone will finally see beyond our quirks and embrace us for who we are.

In these moments, we might think, “Maybe they’ve just misunderstood me before. Maybe they’ll see the real me now.” The anticipation is palpable, and the desire for acceptance is strong. It’s a moment of vulnerability, where we open ourselves to the possibility of belonging.

The Crushing Realization

However, the hope is short-lived. In Wicked, Elphaba soon realizes that she’s been deceived. The warmth she felt was not genuine, and the rejection hits hard. This mirrors the experiences of many autistic people, who often find themselves on the receiving end of social misunderstandings or deliberate exclusion.

When the whispers of “weird” and “strange” begin, it’s like a punch to the gut. The giggles that follow are daggers that pierce through the fragile hope we carried into the room. The realization that those we thought could be friends are joining in the mockery is devastating. We search the room for an ally, for someone to stand by us, but no one does. The silence from those we trusted feels like a betrayal, deepening the wound.

The Spotlight of Shame

In that moment, it feels as though the world stops. All eyes are on us, and we are under the harsh spotlight of shame. Every perceived flaw is magnified. Our unique hairstyle, the shirt that proudly displays our special interest, or the quirky jewelry that makes us happy—everything becomes a target for ridicule.

For autistic people, this scene is all too familiar. The sensory overload, the overwhelming brightness of the lights, and the weight of being the center of unwanted attention can be suffocating. We wish we could disappear, to blend into the background, to escape the scrutiny.

The Absence of a Glinda

In Wicked, Glinda eventually shows up for Elphaba, but in real life, many autistic people don’t have a Glinda to step in and save the day. We walk away from these situations feeling dejected, our heads bowed, trying to suppress the tears that threaten to spill. The bathroom becomes a refuge, a place where we can collect ourselves and nurse our wounds in private.

The longing for a Glinda—a friend who understands, who sees us, who stands up for us—is strong. We wish on shooting stars or make wishes at 11:11, hoping that one day, we’ll find that person who will make us feel seen and accepted. We dream of a day when those who were cruel will understand the impact of their actions, and we hold onto the hope that one day, we will be embraced for who we are.

The Lasting Impact

The ballroom scene in Wicked is more than just a pivotal moment in a musical; it’s a reflection of the social struggles that many autistic people face daily. The pain of being misunderstood, the desire for connection, and the enduring impact of rejection are themes that resonate deeply.

For autistic people, these experiences leave lasting scars. The moments of rejection and ridicule are not easily forgotten. They shape our interactions, our self-esteem, and our worldview. We learn to guard our hearts, to be cautious in social settings, and to brace ourselves for the possibility of being hurt again.

Finding Our Own Glinda

Despite the pain, there is a glimmer of hope. Many autistic people eventually find their Glinda—a friend, a partner, a community that sees and values them. It may not happen in a grand, theatrical moment, but in small, meaningful interactions that build trust and understanding over time.

The ballroom scene in Wicked serves as a reminder of the importance of empathy and kindness. It challenges us to reflect on our own actions and to consider how we can be a Glinda to someone else. How can we create spaces where everyone feels seen and valued? How can we support those who have been marginalized and ensure that they know they are not alone?

Conclusion

The ballroom scene in Wicked captures the complex emotions of hope, rejection, and the longing for acceptance that many autistic people experience. It’s a powerful reminder of the impact of our actions and the importance of creating a world where everyone feels seen and valued.

For autistic individuals, it’s a call to hold onto hope, to seek out and cherish those who see us for who we are, and to continue advocating for understanding and inclusion. And for those who have never experienced these struggles, it’s an invitation to be more empathetic, to be someone’s Glinda, and to help create a world where no one feels invisible.

Do you live on Wahpekute land (colonized as MN), or Chumash land (colonized as Los Angeles, CA), and want an Autism assessment, an ADHD assessment, neurodiversity affirming individual therapy, neurodiversity affirming group therapy or neurodiversity friendly DBT individual therapy? We got you covered! Reach out to learn more, we offer free consultations for therapy and assessments! 

We live and work on the unseated territories of the Wahpekute and Chumash land, we pay respects to their elders past and present. We encourage folks to explore the ancestral lands they live and work on, and to learn about the Native communities that live there, the treaties that have been broken. If folks feel called, we encourage them to consider taking actions to support Native communities, reparations, and land back movements (see other resources below).