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Dorothy’s ruby slippers from “The Wizard of Oz” weren’t about fashion, though let’s acknowledge that the sequined shoes were ahead of their time. They were about finding your way back to where you belonged. Home. A word so simple it feels as if we’ve always known it, and yet, for so many of us, it’s a concept we spend our lives chasing.
After being recovered from thieves who stole them from the Judy Garland Museum in 2005, a pair of Dorothy’s ruby slippers were auctioned earlier this month for $28 million, or the cost of several mansions on Lake Minnetonka. I have recently found myself thinking about what these shoes mean, not just as an iconic piece of Hollywood history, but as a cultural touchstone for Minnesotans. Judy Garland, who starred as Dorothy in the movie, was born as Frances Ethel Gumm on June 10, 1922, in Grand Rapids, Minn., where the Judy Garland Museum operates today to honor her legacy.
Garland’s being from Minnesota fills me with pride. I feel a connection to her as one of “my people.” And in many ways, Oz feels a lot like Minnesota, too.
Minnesota is no stranger to people searching for a place to call home. Immigrants and refugees — first Swedes and Norwegians, then Hmong and Somalis and now Ukrainians ― have flocked to Mní Sota for generations, enduring winters so brutal they must have thought they were being subject to some kind of cosmic hazing ritual. My family came to Minnesota as Hmong refugees, carrying with us little more than traumatic war memories and the hope that this strange new land of a thousand-plus lakes would offer stability, community and maybe a little sunshine.
The ruby slippers also resonate deeply with the immigrant experience. In the movie, Dorothy is dropped into a foreign land with unfamiliar rules and strange people. Sound familiar? Every immigrant has faced their own Yellow Brick Road: navigating new customs, language barriers and an endless stream of people asking, “What brings you to Minnesota?” (Answer: Not the lutefisk.)
When I first set out to become a Minnesotan, there were moments of culture shock so jarring I found myself longing for a troupe of Munchkins to pop out of nowhere belting “Ding dong! The witch is dead!” — anything to alleviate the stress of being the new person in a strange, snowy land.