The Return of Ursula

Then, armed with a few ideas, it’s back home to break out the sewing machine and transform the day’s finds into something entirely new. “Now we’re gonna be avant-garde,” Wells says. “And then we’re gonna go out and see a show.”

Once the thrift flips are complete, it’s time to show them off at the theater, just like Wells suggested. She recommends Rec Room Arts or 4th Wall Theatre Company for what she calls “some good gritty theater,” or Stages for something new and avant-garde.

The itinerary also ventures toward Wells’ home turf around Clear Lake. Locations like Baybrook Mall carry plenty of nostalgia for the Pasadena native, while Whiskey Cake is among her nearby choices for a meal.

For Wells, exploring Houston means looking beyond the obvious. “I really like the idea of going out into the edges and going and finding cool places.”

And after building a career that has taken her across the country, Wells still sees Houston as home. “My family, my grandbabies, my world is here,” she adds. “I have been able to have a very successful performance career here in Houston.”

Today, she sees things differently. “I choose this body. It’s not an accident, and my voice is in the right place.”

Ursula gives Wells permission to inhabit that realization at full volume. “I have this great big voice that I’m always trying to make quieter,” Wells says. Now, because of Ursula, she asserts, “I’m done. I’m unbuttoning and unzipping my jaw.” The result, she admits, is surprisingly personal. “I felt more myself being Ursula than I do on a day-to-day.”

That unapologetic otherness also connects Wells to Ursula’s longstanding queer appeal. Inspired visually by legendary drag performer Divine, the character has occupied a special place in LGBTQ+ culture for generations. “I think that Ursula represents living in otherness and taking control of it,” Wells points out. “I’ve lived in otherness my entire life, and I have found a way by committing to my otherness to become successful.”

For Wells, Ursula’s power comes not from assimilating, but from refusing to do so. “She stays who she is regardless of the situation,” Wells acknowledges. “And that’s what we’ve had to do in the queer community, in my opinion.”

Wells’ second voyage under the sea will also require her to discover an entirely new physical vocabulary. After an unprovoked hip injury in May related to her multiple sclerosis (MS) diagnosis, Wells spent a month hospitalized and now uses a wheelchair as she works toward walking again.

Her first concern was whether that would change her ability to return to Ursula. “I called Dan Knechtges [a theatre director and choreographer who currently serves as the Artistic Director of TUTS]. I’m grateful to have a relationship with him where I can say, ‘Hey, can you give me a call?’ … I told him what happened, and I said, ‘I’ve got two arms that work, and my left leg is still good. I’m 100% committed to Ursula, and I will make it work.’ And he said, ‘Christina, we’re 1,000% committed to you.’”

Now, Wells is reimagining the physicality she developed in 2021 for a new body and a new Ursula. “I think I would go further because I think I was afraid it was too far. Now, I know there’s no such thing,” she beams.

Wells has also learned that commanding a stage does not always require making more noise. “I don’t need to be louder to take over the space,” she says. “I’ve learned that I can even control an audience with my silence.”

That evolution extends beyond Ursula. Wells, who began pursuing performance later in life after building a career in nursing and raising her children, says she is proudest that success has not required her to transform into someone else. “As I’ve gotten the success I’ve had, I’m proud that I’ve walked further into me instead of further away from me,” she notes. “I originally thought I needed to walk away from me to be successful.”

Part of that confidence has come from realizing that someone else’s success does not diminish her own. “Everyone brings something different, and that’s the truth. There’s enough pie for everybody,” she says. Where she once believed that if she was not someone’s favorite singer, she simply was not good enough, she now rejects that scarcity mindset: “I feel like everyone has a way to do it, and my way is just as valuable as anyone else’s.”

For Wells, there is a larger lesson in resisting the pressure to sand away the qualities that make someone different. “It’s so horrible when you do,” she says. “You lose all the things about you that make you wonderful and interesting.”

Perhaps that is why Wells understands Ursula so intimately. She does not see a villain. She sees someone wounded by a world that decided she was the problem. “What do we do with our pain?” Wells asks. She feels the answer lies within the motivations of Ursula’s actions.

Wells explains that some people turn to substances and abuse them due to their pain. Others may create a nonprofit or a foundation to try and prevent that pain. Yet, in The Little Mermaid, Ursula’s pain is something rather unique. “I don’t think people realize that the concert and celebration Ariel doesn’t show up for at the beginning is the celebration of taking down Ursula. It’s like Triton’s own 4th of July,” Wells reveals. “Ursula is just choosing things to do with her pain that are probably not as common just because people don’t have magic. But if people did, they’d all do the same.”

And five years after losing the role she loved, Ursula is offering Wells an important lesson. That is to return to the character, transform it, and take up every inch of space available. “I’m already the unicorn,” she says. “I’ve always been the unicorn.”

WHAT: TUTS’ The Little Mermaid
WHEN: December 8–24, 2026
WHERE: The Hobby Center, 800 Bagby St.
INFO: tinyurl.com/TUTSTheLittleMermaid

Christina Wells’ Houston

Where the performer gives back, catches a show, hunts for fabric and finds inspiration around the Bayou City.

For Wells, giving back increasingly means helping people discover that the doors they assume are closed might actually be within reach. “I’m very passionate about community theater, and I’m very passionate about being what I once needed,” she says.

Wells regularly supports community theaters, mentors aspiring performers, and lends her voice to fundraising events. Among the organizations and programs she highlights are Birthday Joy Program, which provides birthday celebrations for children and families experiencing hardship; St. Luke’s United Methodist Church’s Tapestry Players; Art Park Players in Deer Park; and Pasadena Little Theatre.

“I think the biggest thing I can give back to people is encouragement,” Wells explains.

That means answering messages from young performers, offering mentorship, and reminding people that pursuing a dream does not come with an expiration date. “I did it later,” Wells adds. “You’re not too late. You’re not too old.”

36 Hours in Houston

Forget cocktails and luxury shopping. Wells doesn’t drink, and her ideal Houston itinerary is considerably more theatrical.

First, it’s time to shop, Christina-style. One favorite is the Goodwill near Alabama and Westheimer, where Wells hunts for pieces she can transform through her love of sewing and “thrift flipping.” From there, it’s off to Mood Fabrics to search for material and inspiration. “I’m gonna get a shawl, and I’m gonna turn it into a cover-up for a dress. And then we’re gonna find you some sort of a cool suit jacket or something where you cut the sleeves off of it.”

With the raw materials secured, Wells would look for a little more creative inspiration at The Founders Club, where she likes catching jazz alongside light bites. Somewhere along the way, she’s also getting sushi downtown.

Then, armed with a few ideas, it’s back home to break out the sewing machine and transform the day’s finds into something entirely new. “Now we’re gonna be avant-garde,” Wells says. “And then we’re gonna go out and see a show.”

Once the thrift flips are complete, it’s time to show them off at the theater, just like Wells suggested. She recommends Rec Room Arts or 4th Wall Theatre Company for what she calls “some good gritty theater,” or Stages for something new and avant-garde.

The itinerary also ventures toward Wells’ home turf around Clear Lake. Locations like Baybrook Mall carry plenty of nostalgia for the Pasadena native, while Whiskey Cake is among her nearby choices for a meal.

For Wells, exploring Houston means looking beyond the obvious. “I really like the idea of going out into the edges and going and finding cool places.”

And after building a career that has taken her across the country, Wells still sees Houston as home. “My family, my grandbabies, my world is here,” she adds. “I have been able to have a very successful performance career here in Houston.”

“It sounds dramatic, and it sounds cliché—and I have loved being a lot of different roles—but being Ursula was everything I thought it would be and more,” Wells states. “So, I can’t wait to visit her again.”

This time, Wells says she is bringing something the Christina of 2021 did not possess. In one word, that’s confidence. “I was terrified, actually,” she remembers of the first production. “I made a video on the way to rehearsal, and I say in it over and over again, ‘You belong in the rooms that you’re in, you belong in the rooms that you’re in.’”

Today, that pep talk is less necessary. “I’m good enough right now,” she emphasizes.

That realization dovetails almost perfectly with the character Wells has loved for years. “She’s a shapeshifter,” Wells points out about Ursula. “She can be anything she wants, and she chooses to be fat. She chooses to be that size. She chooses to be a squid.”

Wells believed her own body stood between her voice and success. “I had always felt that my voice was talented or that my voice had value, but felt like it was just in the wrong body,” she says. “I thought this for decades.”

Today, she sees things differently. “I choose this body. It’s not an accident, and my voice is in the right place.”

Ursula gives Wells permission to inhabit that realization at full volume. “I have this great big voice that I’m always trying to make quieter,” Wells says. Now, because of Ursula, she asserts, “I’m done. I’m unbuttoning and unzipping my jaw.” The result, she admits, is surprisingly personal. “I felt more myself being Ursula than I do on a day-to-day.”

That unapologetic otherness also connects Wells to Ursula’s longstanding queer appeal. Inspired visually by legendary drag performer Divine, the character has occupied a special place in LGBTQ+ culture for generations. “I think that Ursula represents living in otherness and taking control of it,” Wells points out. “I’ve lived in otherness my entire life, and I have found a way by committing to my otherness to become successful.”

For Wells, Ursula’s power comes not from assimilating, but from refusing to do so. “She stays who she is regardless of the situation,” Wells acknowledges. “And that’s what we’ve had to do in the queer community, in my opinion.”

Wells’ second voyage under the sea will also require her to discover an entirely new physical vocabulary. After an unprovoked hip injury in May related to her multiple sclerosis (MS) diagnosis, Wells spent a month hospitalized and now uses a wheelchair as she works toward walking again.

Her first concern was whether that would change her ability to return to Ursula. “I called Dan Knechtges [a theatre director and choreographer who currently serves as the Artistic Director of TUTS]. I’m grateful to have a relationship with him where I can say, ‘Hey, can you give me a call?’ … I told him what happened, and I said, ‘I’ve got two arms that work, and my left leg is still good. I’m 100% committed to Ursula, and I will make it work.’ And he said, ‘Christina, we’re 1,000% committed to you.’”

Now, Wells is reimagining the physicality she developed in 2021 for a new body and a new Ursula. “I think I would go further because I think I was afraid it was too far. Now, I know there’s no such thing,” she beams.

Wells has also learned that commanding a stage does not always require making more noise. “I don’t need to be louder to take over the space,” she says. “I’ve learned that I can even control an audience with my silence.”

That evolution extends beyond Ursula. Wells, who began pursuing performance later in life after building a career in nursing and raising her children, says she is proudest that success has not required her to transform into someone else. “As I’ve gotten the success I’ve had, I’m proud that I’ve walked further into me instead of further away from me,” she notes. “I originally thought I needed to walk away from me to be successful.”

Part of that confidence has come from realizing that someone else’s success does not diminish her own. “Everyone brings something different, and that’s the truth. There’s enough pie for everybody,” she says. Where she once believed that if she was not someone’s favorite singer, she simply was not good enough, she now rejects that scarcity mindset: “I feel like everyone has a way to do it, and my way is just as valuable as anyone else’s.”

For Wells, there is a larger lesson in resisting the pressure to sand away the qualities that make someone different. “It’s so horrible when you do,” she says. “You lose all the things about you that make you wonderful and interesting.”

Perhaps that is why Wells understands Ursula so intimately. She does not see a villain. She sees someone wounded by a world that decided she was the problem. “What do we do with our pain?” Wells asks. She feels the answer lies within the motivations of Ursula’s actions.

Wells explains that some people turn to substances and abuse them due to their pain. Others may create a nonprofit or a foundation to try and prevent that pain. Yet, in The Little Mermaid, Ursula’s pain is something rather unique. “I don’t think people realize that the concert and celebration Ariel doesn’t show up for at the beginning is the celebration of taking down Ursula. It’s like Triton’s own 4th of July,” Wells reveals. “Ursula is just choosing things to do with her pain that are probably not as common just because people don’t have magic. But if people did, they’d all do the same.”

And five years after losing the role she loved, Ursula is offering Wells an important lesson. That is to return to the character, transform it, and take up every inch of space available. “I’m already the unicorn,” she says. “I’ve always been the unicorn.”

WHAT: TUTS’ The Little Mermaid
WHEN: December 8–24, 2026
WHERE: The Hobby Center, 800 Bagby St.
INFO: tinyurl.com/TUTSTheLittleMermaid

Christina Wells’ Houston

Where the performer gives back, catches a show, hunts for fabric and finds inspiration around the Bayou City.

For Wells, giving back increasingly means helping people discover that the doors they assume are closed might actually be within reach. “I’m very passionate about community theater, and I’m very passionate about being what I once needed,” she says.

Wells regularly supports community theaters, mentors aspiring performers, and lends her voice to fundraising events. Among the organizations and programs she highlights are Birthday Joy Program, which provides birthday celebrations for children and families experiencing hardship; St. Luke’s United Methodist Church’s Tapestry Players; Art Park Players in Deer Park; and Pasadena Little Theatre.

“I think the biggest thing I can give back to people is encouragement,” Wells explains.

That means answering messages from young performers, offering mentorship, and reminding people that pursuing a dream does not come with an expiration date. “I did it later,” Wells adds. “You’re not too late. You’re not too old.”

36 Hours in Houston

Forget cocktails and luxury shopping. Wells doesn’t drink, and her ideal Houston itinerary is considerably more theatrical.

First, it’s time to shop, Christina-style. One favorite is the Goodwill near Alabama and Westheimer, where Wells hunts for pieces she can transform through her love of sewing and “thrift flipping.” From there, it’s off to Mood Fabrics to search for material and inspiration. “I’m gonna get a shawl, and I’m gonna turn it into a cover-up for a dress. And then we’re gonna find you some sort of a cool suit jacket or something where you cut the sleeves off of it.”

With the raw materials secured, Wells would look for a little more creative inspiration at The Founders Club, where she likes catching jazz alongside light bites. Somewhere along the way, she’s also getting sushi downtown.

Then, armed with a few ideas, it’s back home to break out the sewing machine and transform the day’s finds into something entirely new. “Now we’re gonna be avant-garde,” Wells says. “And then we’re gonna go out and see a show.”

Once the thrift flips are complete, it’s time to show them off at the theater, just like Wells suggested. She recommends Rec Room Arts or 4th Wall Theatre Company for what she calls “some good gritty theater,” or Stages for something new and avant-garde.

The itinerary also ventures toward Wells’ home turf around Clear Lake. Locations like Baybrook Mall carry plenty of nostalgia for the Pasadena native, while Whiskey Cake is among her nearby choices for a meal.

For Wells, exploring Houston means looking beyond the obvious. “I really like the idea of going out into the edges and going and finding cool places.”

And after building a career that has taken her across the country, Wells still sees Houston as home. “My family, my grandbabies, my world is here,” she adds. “I have been able to have a very successful performance career here in Houston.”

For Christina Wells, returning to Ursula is more than revisiting a favorite role. It feels a little like bringing someone back from the dead. Wells first donned the sea witch’s iconic tentacles for Theatre Under The Stars’ 2021 production of Disney’s The Little Mermaid. After years of dreaming about the role, she finally had it. Then COVID-19 cut the production short.

“I felt like my best friend died whenever that show got closed,” Wells recalls. “I cried and cried and cried. I couldn’t quit crying.”

As TUTS gradually brought canceled productions back in subsequent seasons, Wells waited. “Every time there was a season announcement, I thought, ‘Okay, not yet,’” she says. Now, five years later, Ursula is finally hers again when The Little Mermaid opens this December at the Hobby Center.

“It sounds dramatic, and it sounds cliché—and I have loved being a lot of different roles—but being Ursula was everything I thought it would be and more,” Wells states. “So, I can’t wait to visit her again.”

This time, Wells says she is bringing something the Christina of 2021 did not possess. In one word, that’s confidence. “I was terrified, actually,” she remembers of the first production. “I made a video on the way to rehearsal, and I say in it over and over again, ‘You belong in the rooms that you’re in, you belong in the rooms that you’re in.’”

Today, that pep talk is less necessary. “I’m good enough right now,” she emphasizes.

That realization dovetails almost perfectly with the character Wells has loved for years. “She’s a shapeshifter,” Wells points out about Ursula. “She can be anything she wants, and she chooses to be fat. She chooses to be that size. She chooses to be a squid.”

Wells believed her own body stood between her voice and success. “I had always felt that my voice was talented or that my voice had value, but felt like it was just in the wrong body,” she says. “I thought this for decades.”

Today, she sees things differently. “I choose this body. It’s not an accident, and my voice is in the right place.”

Ursula gives Wells permission to inhabit that realization at full volume. “I have this great big voice that I’m always trying to make quieter,” Wells says. Now, because of Ursula, she asserts, “I’m done. I’m unbuttoning and unzipping my jaw.” The result, she admits, is surprisingly personal. “I felt more myself being Ursula than I do on a day-to-day.”

That unapologetic otherness also connects Wells to Ursula’s longstanding queer appeal. Inspired visually by legendary drag performer Divine, the character has occupied a special place in LGBTQ+ culture for generations. “I think that Ursula represents living in otherness and taking control of it,” Wells points out. “I’ve lived in otherness my entire life, and I have found a way by committing to my otherness to become successful.”

For Wells, Ursula’s power comes not from assimilating, but from refusing to do so. “She stays who she is regardless of the situation,” Wells acknowledges. “And that’s what we’ve had to do in the queer community, in my opinion.”

Wells’ second voyage under the sea will also require her to discover an entirely new physical vocabulary. After an unprovoked hip injury in May related to her multiple sclerosis (MS) diagnosis, Wells spent a month hospitalized and now uses a wheelchair as she works toward walking again.

Her first concern was whether that would change her ability to return to Ursula. “I called Dan Knechtges [a theatre director and choreographer who currently serves as the Artistic Director of TUTS]. I’m grateful to have a relationship with him where I can say, ‘Hey, can you give me a call?’ … I told him what happened, and I said, ‘I’ve got two arms that work, and my left leg is still good. I’m 100% committed to Ursula, and I will make it work.’ And he said, ‘Christina, we’re 1,000% committed to you.’”

Now, Wells is reimagining the physicality she developed in 2021 for a new body and a new Ursula. “I think I would go further because I think I was afraid it was too far. Now, I know there’s no such thing,” she beams.

Wells has also learned that commanding a stage does not always require making more noise. “I don’t need to be louder to take over the space,” she says. “I’ve learned that I can even control an audience with my silence.”

That evolution extends beyond Ursula. Wells, who began pursuing performance later in life after building a career in nursing and raising her children, says she is proudest that success has not required her to transform into someone else. “As I’ve gotten the success I’ve had, I’m proud that I’ve walked further into me instead of further away from me,” she notes. “I originally thought I needed to walk away from me to be successful.”

Part of that confidence has come from realizing that someone else’s success does not diminish her own. “Everyone brings something different, and that’s the truth. There’s enough pie for everybody,” she says. Where she once believed that if she was not someone’s favorite singer, she simply was not good enough, she now rejects that scarcity mindset: “I feel like everyone has a way to do it, and my way is just as valuable as anyone else’s.”

For Wells, there is a larger lesson in resisting the pressure to sand away the qualities that make someone different. “It’s so horrible when you do,” she says. “You lose all the things about you that make you wonderful and interesting.”

Perhaps that is why Wells understands Ursula so intimately. She does not see a villain. She sees someone wounded by a world that decided she was the problem. “What do we do with our pain?” Wells asks. She feels the answer lies within the motivations of Ursula’s actions.

Wells explains that some people turn to substances and abuse them due to their pain. Others may create a nonprofit or a foundation to try and prevent that pain. Yet, in The Little Mermaid, Ursula’s pain is something rather unique. “I don’t think people realize that the concert and celebration Ariel doesn’t show up for at the beginning is the celebration of taking down Ursula. It’s like Triton’s own 4th of July,” Wells reveals. “Ursula is just choosing things to do with her pain that are probably not as common just because people don’t have magic. But if people did, they’d all do the same.”

And five years after losing the role she loved, Ursula is offering Wells an important lesson. That is to return to the character, transform it, and take up every inch of space available. “I’m already the unicorn,” she says. “I’ve always been the unicorn.”

WHAT: TUTS’ The Little Mermaid
WHEN: December 8–24, 2026
WHERE: The Hobby Center, 800 Bagby St.
INFO: tinyurl.com/TUTSTheLittleMermaid

Christina Wells’ Houston

Where the performer gives back, catches a show, hunts for fabric and finds inspiration around the Bayou City.

For Wells, giving back increasingly means helping people discover that the doors they assume are closed might actually be within reach. “I’m very passionate about community theater, and I’m very passionate about being what I once needed,” she says.

Wells regularly supports community theaters, mentors aspiring performers, and lends her voice to fundraising events. Among the organizations and programs she highlights are Birthday Joy Program, which provides birthday celebrations for children and families experiencing hardship; St. Luke’s United Methodist Church’s Tapestry Players; Art Park Players in Deer Park; and Pasadena Little Theatre.

“I think the biggest thing I can give back to people is encouragement,” Wells explains.

That means answering messages from young performers, offering mentorship, and reminding people that pursuing a dream does not come with an expiration date. “I did it later,” Wells adds. “You’re not too late. You’re not too old.”

36 Hours in Houston

Forget cocktails and luxury shopping. Wells doesn’t drink, and her ideal Houston itinerary is considerably more theatrical.

First, it’s time to shop, Christina-style. One favorite is the Goodwill near Alabama and Westheimer, where Wells hunts for pieces she can transform through her love of sewing and “thrift flipping.” From there, it’s off to Mood Fabrics to search for material and inspiration. “I’m gonna get a shawl, and I’m gonna turn it into a cover-up for a dress. And then we’re gonna find you some sort of a cool suit jacket or something where you cut the sleeves off of it.”

With the raw materials secured, Wells would look for a little more creative inspiration at The Founders Club, where she likes catching jazz alongside light bites. Somewhere along the way, she’s also getting sushi downtown.

Then, armed with a few ideas, it’s back home to break out the sewing machine and transform the day’s finds into something entirely new. “Now we’re gonna be avant-garde,” Wells says. “And then we’re gonna go out and see a show.”

Once the thrift flips are complete, it’s time to show them off at the theater, just like Wells suggested. She recommends Rec Room Arts or 4th Wall Theatre Company for what she calls “some good gritty theater,” or Stages for something new and avant-garde.

The itinerary also ventures toward Wells’ home turf around Clear Lake. Locations like Baybrook Mall carry plenty of nostalgia for the Pasadena native, while Whiskey Cake is among her nearby choices for a meal.

For Wells, exploring Houston means looking beyond the obvious. “I really like the idea of going out into the edges and going and finding cool places.”

And after building a career that has taken her across the country, Wells still sees Houston as home. “My family, my grandbabies, my world is here,” she adds. “I have been able to have a very successful performance career here in Houston.”