“It felt like a joke,” Lencia Kebede says, recalling the moment she learned she would be Wicked on Broadway’s first full-time Black Elphaba. “I knew it was real, but I started laughing. I felt like I was seeing my childhood self. I was like, ‘Dude! We did it. We’re here.’ I was so in awe that I had achieved this thing that I never thought I could do.”
Unlike other Broadway performers who have joined Playbill’s Getting Ready series and have done their own show make-up, to achieve Elphaba’s look, Kebede requires the aid and artistry of Wicked Makeup Supervisor Christa Kaimimoku-Wong and Hair Department Head Mary Kay Yezerski-Bondoc. The sisterhood the three women have formed is as essential to Kebede’s process as her custom MAC shade of green (traditionally landscape green, but Kaimimoku-Wong notes she mixes true chartreuse to give Kebede a special glow).
See Kebede and her dream team get ready in the video below.
The Green Team, as they call themselves, have become symbiotic; three women working and moving together like one organism. Kebede closes her eyes, purses her lips, and bows her head without prompting—the process is so cohesive it feels like a holy ritual. “We’ve done it probably 200 times now,” Kebede smiles. “I know how I need to move my face or my neck or body to accommodate [them].”
In the Playbill Studio, Kaimimoku-Wong applies Kebede’s Act Two makeup, which is a bit sultrier, eyes darkened and smoked out to symbolize Elphaba’s scorn. This is the “grown, bratty” Elphaba, broomstick in hand and Grimmerie tucked under her arm. “The beginning is pretty light, sweet, young-looking,” Kaimimoku-Wong, who has been with the show for 10 years, explains. “In Act Two, the lip color (an army green Kat Von D) is darker and there’s sparkles on the lip (Lencia’s favorite touch).”
Kebede actually didn’t set out to be a Wicked witch. She initially double-majored in diplomacy and world affairs as an undergraduate; she even interned at the United Nations. On paper, it would seem this young activist was preparing for a career in law or the nonprofit sector (“or President,” Kebede laughs). Her foundation in human rights and international relations has meaningfully impacted her artistic choices.
“I like to choose projects that challenge the world’s ideas,” Kebede says. “And serve as an educational resource in ways. Whether they’re allegorical, like Wicked, or directly historical, like Hamilton.” (Kebede played all three Schuyler sisters on tour before landing at the Gershwin.)
For the Playbill shoot, Kebede also brought her Elphaba wig along. Made of human hair, the wig is fully hand-tied, which Yezerski-Bondoc says take about 40 hours to complete. It also features corn row braids, which require regular touch-ups. The team was inspired to create a braided wig for Kebede after seeing Cynthia Erivo’s Elphaba sporting braids in the film adaptation of Wicked. For Kebede, the inclusion of braids into her wigs is extremely personal.
“I really wanted to represent my Ethiopian culture,” she says. “These braids are reminiscent of very traditional looks in my culture. We went through a lot of different options but landed on this. I really appreciate how open [the company] has been to what feels most me in this role.”
Yezerski-Bondoc also considered the health of Kebede’s natural hair when it came to prep, avoiding pin curls so as not to disrupt her natural curl pattern. Preserving her natural hair and providing a wig styled in homage to her Ethiopian culture helps Kebede feel like her “whole self.” But, in the Playbill studio with her wig applied, there is a shift in energy, as if another person has slipped in and sat in Kebede’s place. And when I remark that I can feel Elphaba come into the room, Kebede smiles warmly.
“From the beginning,” she says. “I felt so spiritually connected to [Elphaba’s] experience, someone who [grew] up knowing that they were different [from] the people around them. [I knew] I was different than the majority. It didn’t feel so crazy to jump into this role.”
Kebede acknowledges that Elphaba reacts to that feeling of alienation in a more assertive manner. “She’s very explosive,” Kebede says fondly. “But the core of who she is is so aligned with who I am. She wants equality. She wants people to be treated well. She has a really big heart.”
Lip pencil in hand, Kebede is nearing the end of her physical transformation. This is one of the steps she gets to do herself, the product and color again unique to her. Kaimimoku-Wong describes the shade, dusted with beetle-shell iridescent highlighter, “romantically haunting.” There is nothing tragic about the beauty here.
“I find it beautiful that I feel connected with her when I’m green or when I’m not green,” Kebede says, drawing the pencil under her lower lip. “And now,” she says, a conspiratorial smile inching across her greened face. “I cannot talk anymore.”