Lately, I’ve been wondering how easy it is for us to give in to what society and life offer us. We often find it simpler to just go with the flow rather than question what’s happening around us and reflect on our own actions. And this is not just about society as a whole—it’s about our social lives, the way we behave, how easily we conform to expectations without even realizing it.
I recently finished reading The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood, and as I reached the final pages, a question formed in my mind: Is it easier to fit in or to be a change?
Offred, the protagonist, reminisces about her past, recalling how life used to be and how it all changed overnight. Before Gilead, people—especially women—felt comfortable in their lives. They didn’t believe that drastic change could happen to them, so they did nothing. And when that change finally arrived, they had no choice but to obey the new rules.
Moira, a side character, stands in contrast to Offred—she represents resistance and rebellion. She’s the only woman Offered knows who successfully escaped the oppressive system. For a long time, Moira is Offred’s symbol of hope, proof that resistance is possible. But then, Offred sees her again—this time working as a prostitute in a club, having been captured and forced into submission. Imagine what that moment must have felt like. Offred, who had spent so much time believing that Moira was living free, that she was a change into their society, suddenly realizes that even the strongest figures of change can fall, that everything around her is a scam and that what’s left for her is to follow the rules.
Yet, in the end, Offred reaches her own breaking point. She is so exhausted from merely fitting in and following the rules, from existing rather than living, that she makes a desperate choice—she trusts Nick and steps into a van with complete strangers. It’s a moment of blind faith. Even in a situation that is eerie, uncertain, and possibly dangerous, she clings to the smallest sliver of hope. She would rather take a risk than continue conforming to a life where she isn’t herself.
A similar pattern unfolds in Wicked, the retelling of The Wizard of Oz. Elphaba, a marginalized character who has spent her whole life ashamed of herself and desperate to fit in, finally finds a figure of inspiration: The Wizard of Oz. She idealizes him since she was a child, believing he will bring justice and fix everything that’s wrong in the world of Oz. But when she finally meets him, she learns the truth—he’s not the great leader she imagined. He, too, is a fraud.
For Elphaba, this realization is a turning point. She has spent so long trying to conform, trying to be accepted, only to learn that the system she longed to be part of was broken from the start. In response, she abandons the idea of fitting in and instead chooses to fight—but in a radical and aggressive way. She hates the thought of even coexisting in the same society as those she sees as frauds. She’s so exhausted. so disillusioned, that she’s willing to leave her friends and life behind to follow her heart, no matter the cost.
Then there’s Galinda, the other protagonist in Wicked. She is often dismissed as shallow and naive, but in reality, she represents a different kind of strength. While Elphaba chooses open rebellion, Galinda chooses to work within the system to create change from the inside out. Many see her as cowardly for not running away with Elphaba, but in reality, it takes far more courage to stay, fit in and fight in a way that doesn’t rely on destruction.
Just like Offred and Elphaba, do we all have a limit to how much we can handle? At what point do we snap? Will we give in to our intrusive thoughts and throw ourselves into change, no matter the cost? Will we, like Elphaba, reject everything we once believed and fight against the system with everything we have? Or will we style for the comfort of what if offered to us, choosing the path of least resistance?
Or, perhaps, will we take Galinda’s approach—trying to change things from the inside out, examining the core of the problem before acting, and becoming a force of change in a way that is measured, strategic, and wise?
So, is it easier to fit in or to be a change? I’d argue that fitting in is the path of least resistance. We’re conditioned to accept what is handed to us—whether it’s a government dictating our lives, social expectations shaping our behavior, or personal relationships where others exert control over us. But once we start questioning this, we have to ask ourselves: Are we just too comfortable with the way things are? And more importantly, if we want things to change, how do we make it happen and what kind of change do we want to be?
