We’re told the Wicked Witch wants the ruby slippers because they have magic powers-but so does any material object once possessed and cherished by a deceased loved one. I would chase her around the country and lock her in my high tower, too. If anyone, let alone someone involved in his death, tried to take any of these things from me. When he died, every scrap of paper on which my father had hastily scribbled a note, every old t-shirt that had once clothed his living body, became sacred relics. I became especially convinced that the line between villain and victim in this story isn’t as clear as it may appear after my father died, when I was twelve years old. I feel for her more than for Dorothy, the girl who kills the witch’s sister and then steals her shoes. And the Wicked Witch has always been my favorite. I watched it nearly every day for a solid five-year stretch of my childhood, and when I rewatch it once a year or so now, I still know every single line by heart, still get as giddy and excited by my favorite moments as I did when I was four years old. The Wizard of Oz has always been one of my favorite movies. This is Fallen Women, a monthly column by Lilly Dancyger on women coded as villains in pop culture, the power in their badness, and how they shaped fans for good.
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