A Love Letter to Survivor

by Liana Wallace

I’m two years old. Me and my brothers are running down the stairs to find our spots in front of the TV for our weekly Wednesday bedtime routine. It goes something like this -- my mom rewarding us with getting to watch Survivor if we quickly get through bath time and follow instructions. We succeed and reap the rewards huddled around the TV watching our favorite show - a leftover bubble from the bath protruding from one of my short brown curls. Sometimes after the show me and my brothers sit around our kitchen table and light three candles, one for each of us. With one magical whoosh of the candle snuffer my mom let us play with, André, the eldest, would suffocate one of the flames -- always Jordan’s and never mine--and exclaim: “THE TRIBE HAS SPOKEN!". This is how I fell in love with Survivor. Surrounded by my family, enthralled by the thrill of it.

Survivor has been my dream ever since I was a little girl. Throughout middle and high school I always said one day I would play it and thanks to a pandemic and a little shot in the dark now I have. Little did I know I would be trading candles for tiki torches so soon. I starved for 14 days before receiving one grain of rice, put on 12 pounds of muscle training for the show and lost 17 leaving it. I gave everything my body could give in every immunity challenge I competed in. I contributed to my tribe winning three immunity challenges in a row against tribes that were much more physically capable than mine, believe it or not, with TWO women, one non-binary person and one man -- all of us badasses. I was on the correct side of 5 out of the 7 tribal councils I ever participated in, and still managed to meditate every single day I was out there and play with the authenticity and intensity I intended to. I am extremely proud of the game I played and the person I found staring back at me when every emotional, mental, and physical part of my being was tested. It was a privilege to have been able to play with such an incredible cast and I am privileged to have had the freedom and flexibility to be able to drop everything and fly to Fiji to chase a wild two year old's dream.

I came into the game holding my family, the communities I was raised in, the struggle and complexity of Blackness, and my heart. Whether or not there is space to hold all of that in a game that is inherently cut-throat and oriented around winning one million dollars is besides the point. I am unapologetic about the way I played and would do it all again if it meant walking away with the clarity I gained. The perspective acquired through the trials and tribulations of watching myself on TV was enhanced by reflecting on how I actually played. There was so much beauty in this season but also so much complexity that no viewer watching one of twenty-four plus hours of footage will ever get to see or truly understand. They’ll never see the first time I smiled at Evvie, looking proud and powerful in their bow-tie during pre-game. They’ll never see the way me and Tiff clung onto each other as we ventured out into the black forest in the middle of the night to try and pee. They’ll never get to see the three Jewish Yase women bonding over our hunger for just one bite of bagel, lox, and schmear. They’ll never see how many games of Marry, Fuck, Kill me and Erika played with desserts we were dreaming about eating. They’ll never see how Ricard comforted me when I was faced with one of my toughest decisions in the game. They’ll never see how we all danced on the beach and did the cha-cha slide. They’ll never hear all the stories we told each other (some true and some not so much) laying under the stars with our backs pressed against bamboo. They’ll never know the cloud of the George Floyd trial, looming over some of our heads with an incomplete verdict as we headed into the game. They’ll never know or see any of that.

The complexity of this season cannot be understated. I never thought people would feel enraged enough to call me a N***er all for forming a Black alliance. For 40+ seasons of Survivor when white alliances formed, they had the freedom and privilege of race not having to exist since whiteness is the “norm” in our society. White survivor players have rarely formed an alliance with other white people simply because they were white...why? Because the majority of the tribe was white anyway. When being in the majority both on Survivor and in the real world, whiteness becomes commonplace, the “norm”, and one is provided the freedom to not have to notice their race. This privilege provides the freedom to make alliances based on social or personal identities, strategic decisions, or shared values--free from the thought of race-- all for the glory and sexiness of one million dollars. For me and the other Black players on season 41 we did not have the freedom or privilege to forget our Blackness. We did not have the liberty of our Blackness being accepted as commonplace or the “norm”. We were not granted the flexibility of playing a game free of the weight of the outside world or how generational racialized experiences inform who we are.

At tribal council I repeat the phrase, “I am a Black woman”. I say I am a Black woman, here, playing Survivor. I am a Black woman in my classes at Georgetown. I am a Black woman wherever I choose to work. I am a Black woman. I cannot forget I am a Black woman, not because I particularly enjoy remembering I am a Black woman but because the world won’t let me forget it. The 1944 GI Bill that provided white World War II veterans the ability to attend universities and get loans on houses, while denying that privilege to Black vets -- therefore widening the generational wealth gap between white and Black families -- won’t let me forget it. Breonna Taylor being shot in her sleep won’t let me forget it. The Black Codes that ensured cheap labor even after slavery ended won’t let me forget it. The current mass incarceration system won’t let me forget it. The breath stolen from George Floyd’s chest with Derek Chauvin’s knee on his neck won’t let me forget it. This is not just about racism. This is about the abuse of power and how that power has meant death, violence, and continued disenfranchisement to the Black community.

So, no. When I played Survivor I wasn’t free of Blackness nor the power differentials between Black and white. My Black alliance had nothing to do with whiteness, white feelings, or what is referred to as “reverse racism” -- which by the way doesn’t exist. There is a very big difference between individual acts of racial discrimination and widespread, pervasive racism. The generational wealth gap, poverty, and health disparities that exist in 2021 along racial lines did not just magically appear. They were created by policies and are grounded in historic power differentials. The key here is not hurt feelings in the fleeting span of a moment, but years of oppression, discrimination and abuse embedded in the fabric of our global society.

If you made it this far and none of this makes sense to you, good. Read it again. This is a conversation that needs to be had in all households over dining room tables, at Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Hanukkah -- maybe even while reading your children their bedtime stories. If my playing Survivor is the catalyst for having important discourse in white households across America, then forget the rest of the season and the prize money. Our collective humanity will have won so much more. I formed a Black alliance because I am a Black woman and Survivor being a microcosm of the real world would not let me forget that. I formed a Black alliance in solidarity. I formed a Black alliance because it meant George Floyd, Emmett Till, and that little Black girl with a dream who might be watching, knew that I saw them and that I would not forget them, not even for $1 million dollars. I formed a Black alliance and am unapologetic about it.

Every player in the game has struggled with the balance between emotion and strategy. Few go into the game telling themselves to trust everyone and reveal all their secrets. Nonetheless, we are human and the game happens. We are starving, and hungry, and aqua dumping and sometimes we forget that the cut-throat nature of this amazing game has no room for values or emotion. Yet we bring all of this with us. Some of us are better at cutting it off than others, but the best players struggle with it. It’s the beauty of being human in an unforgiving game. Yes, maybe I’d tweak some things next time but that's why this game is so beautiful. This is why that little two year old who watched with her brothers after bath time loved it so much. My Dad always tells me the minute you stop growing, you die. This game found ways to make me stretch and grow even after the cameras stopped rolling, even after my face fades from your mind and the television screen. For that I am forever grateful. Everyday while playing whenever I got a chance to meditate I would tell myself something my brother told me before I left, “a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor”. He was absolutely right. Even through the choppy seas I’m still sailing and I’m going to continue sailing. Thank you to my castmates, to the producers, to the crew, to Jeff, and to the fans for one hell of a boat ride.

Love,

Liana