We’re Wicked, And For All the Gayest Reasons

I’ve always said that being gay is basically a lifelong production of Wicked, and seeing it again this year unlocked a whole chapter of my coming-out story I didn’t know still lived in me. There’s something about watching two women defy gravity while you’re defying heteronormativity that just… hits. And with Ariana and Cynthia leading the way, it felt less like a musical and more like a spiritual reawakening.

Ariana, all bubble-light and effervescent joy, reminded me of Mark—tiny, blonde, cute, and somehow connected to Kristin Chenoweth like it’s a genetic trait. Cynthia, with her power and quiet depth, was Bobby: secretly naughty, overwhelmingly kind, and the person who always saves your heart in act two. And Jonathan Bailey? That man walked onstage with the same energy Mac (yeah, I gave it to myself - suit me!) brings when he takes his shirt off before anyone asks.
Seeing him crowned Sexiest Man Alive felt like the universe finally catching up to what gay men have been screaming for years.
It also made me think about how coming out isn’t one moment—it’s a series of spotlights you step into, each brighter than the last.
Wicked taught me that shining isn’t just allowed; it’s mandatory, especially when your life once felt like a behind-the-scenes note in someone else’s script.

Watching Ariana, Cynthia, and Jonathan soar reminded me of the first time I felt seen, glitter and all.

And in that dark theater at the AMC Lincoln Square in NYC, surrounded by strangers and oversized Diet Coke cups and giant bags of popcorn with butter that I fasted all day for, because #macros, I felt the same fear, joy, and green-tinted bravery I felt the day I finally said “I’m gay.” Because sometimes it takes a witch, a queen, and a very shirtless leading man to remind you who you’ve always been.