Glinda's Musings

The Hat

Glinda sat alone in her bedroom in the Emerald City Palace. She was prepping to give a "victory" speech on the "Wicked" Witch's death. During her preparations, Glinda wondered if she should wear her crown. Normally, that crown was Glinda's favorite accessory. Normally, she loved the shining, silver circle that was encrusted with blue and white diamonds. Normally she loved to feel its reassuring weight on her gold curls. It was a beautiful, shining symbol of her power and popularity. It was a comfort object, reassuring her of her own, strength, control and success. It reminded her that she was loved, by at least a few people. Tonight, however, it was a cheap hunk of ugly metal and glitter with stones twisted into it that stood as a cruel reminder of the selfish and empty path she chose. The crown was no longer beautiful but monstrous, a symbol of egotism and cruelty. It was a cheap reflection of her "successes" and tonight, she would've gladly flung it out the window

Glinda spent a few more minutes debating if she should wear the crown, just staring it at contemplatively, thoughts like a whirlwind in her head. At last, then she decided yes. After this mini-stare down with her crown, Glinda finally picked up the metal circlet and placed it, reluctantly but resignedly, upon her head. She didn't wear it out of vanity, however, but for the cameras. Oz wanted a queen, now she had to play the part. It was her job. Truly, though, she felt undeserving. Instead, she believed that there was somebody else out there more deserving of a crown.

"Oh Elphie," Glinda sighed sadly as she donned the crown. She turned away from her golden, jewel-inlaid vanity to take a look out her window and to the western sky. "I miss you so much," she murmured out. "I know you'd deserve this crown more than I ever could," she said, but then a wet laugh escaped her. "But I know you'd never wear it. Not this cheap bit of materialistic vanity. You're too selfless, too good, too righteous and proud. You'd never wear something like this..." tears began to fall from Glinda's blue eyes. The little blond dipped her head as the memory of the green witch continued to overtake her. "I miss you. So much. I know I must be brave, but I'm scared. Oh Elphie..."

Finally, out of shame and misery, Glinda turned away from the window facing west. As she turned away, her wet-eyed gaze caught on something hidden in a corner of her room. It was a frumpy black hat. It was Elphaba's hat. Glinda's heart leapt in her throat as she suddenly found herself on her knees, hugging the little black triangle to her chest. It had been hidden in the corner of her room, hidden from the public eye. So well had it been hidden, though, that Glinda nearly had forgotten it was there. Seeing it again, Glinda had collapsed upon it, hugging it to her chest and grieving over the memory of her fallen friend.

She looked down at the hat through tears. Her hat. The hat that was given in hatred but led to love. The hat that became the green witch's signature accessory. The hat that went from an ugly prank of discrimination to a beautiful symbol of pride and powerful, lasting friendships. The hat that Elphaba wore constantly, for Glinda, because of Glinda. The hat that stuck by Elphaba until death, when Glinda reclaimed it as a last memorial of Elphaba. The hat was a plain, black, pointed hat that was ugly but it fit its owner so well, it became as beautiful and unique as the wearer. This hat was Elphaba's own crown, a symbol of her personality and creeds.

Glinda swallowed at the realization of that last part of her meditation. The little blond dared to slip the hat upon her own head then, tossing her crown away and ignoring its clatter against the cold tile of her bedroom. She turned to her mirror and recoiled. Not because the hat was ugly, but because the wearer was. Maybe not externally, but definitely internally. She blushed as she tore the hat off and dropped it from her clutches, ashamed at herself for daring to try and wear it. She had no right.

"I know I don't deserve it," Glinda mumbled sadly. "I'm too selfish..." she shook her head and put the hat back down, retrieving her more boring and banal crown. That hat that had previously been worn by somebody more concerned with the welfare of others than herself. Glinda didn't deserve that symbol because all she'd ever looked after was her own skin... But maybe that didn't have to last, didn't have to change. Every crown-bearer would fall eventually. None of them could last forever. This meant they had to have someone to pass their crown on to. They needed an heir. Now maybe, Glinda could change tonight and become Elphaba's heir. She might finally be brave enough to deserve the honor. She would conjoin the two crowns, the silver one and the black one. She would wear them as one singular crown (metaphorically, of course! The hat and crown together would clash and look hideodious), balancing out the ideologies that they both represented. She would somehow be deserving of being the heir to both legacies and she would find a common focal point within them to draw them together...

In the end, Glinda didn't wear her crown to the speech after all, leaving it instead on her vanity beside Elphaba's hat. When next she saw them, she released a shaky breath. The painful speech was over, but it wasn't entirely celebratory. With Elphaba in mind, Glinda had carefully steered the ignorant Ozians to feel sympathy for the green witch and some of them got it. Throughout the whole speech, Glinda weaved Elphaba's life story into it and did see enlightenment flicker up on some of the Ozian's faces. Most of them remained firmly against Elphaba, but a few seemed to have a change of heart, and that was all Glinda could ask for.

With the speech over, Glinda went to bed. Right before turning off the light, however, Glinda took her crown and put it in a drawer. She then took Elphaba's hat and placed it by her bed. No longer would the hat be hidden in a corner. No longer would it be shamed, scorned, spat at or sneered at. Instead, Glinda would wear it proudly, telling anyone who asked the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, not yet, but just enough to start slowly raising public awareness. That was how all big political movements started, after all. Baby steps, little things, conversation starters and demonstrations to slowly but surely raise awareness. It would be a long, risky road, but it was one Glinda was finally ready to walk, the hat and all it stood for at her side and on her head.

AN: More stupid philosophy. You know I love this musical too much when I post an analysis of a freaking hat. What can I say?