Some childhood obsessions never go away. And for me, it is CBS’s Survivor.
My brothers and I were so invested, we spent countless evenings “playing” Survivor in our backyard with other kids in the neighborhood, forming alliances, competing in challenges, searching for “idols” (usually my brothers’ shoes). And yes, even voting each other out.
When Survivor first aired on CBS in 2000, it was billed as a mere reality competition: stranded contestants, tropical islands, fire-making, and tribal councils. But 49 seasons later, Survivor has evolved into something far more complex. It has become a cultural touchstone, a social experiment, and a mirror of America’s shifting values, priorities, and identity.
At its core, Survivor is a game of social politics. But what that looks like has changed dramatically over time. In the early seasons, physical strength and deceptive cunning were rewarded. The alliances were straightforward, often based on strength and shared identity. However, emotions were liabilities, and vulnerability was weakness.
But as America has changed, so has Survivor. And that’s the point.
In the past decade, and especially in the most recent seasons, we’ve seen Survivor reflect a more nuanced understanding of human connection, social justice, and identity.
Arguably, the great shift started in 2017 on Survivor: Game Changers when Zeke Smith, a transgender contestant, was outed by his tribemate, Jeff Varner. Smith had shared his story previously with Varner in confidence. However, this information was not exposed to the rest of the castaways.
In a contentious tribal council, Varner outed Smith in an effort to strengthen his argument that Smith had been playing a deceptive game. It was met with immediate disgust and pushback by all of the castaways, who unanimously voted Varner to leave the island.
Contestants now talk openly about mental health, gender identity, race, and trauma, not as side stories, but as central elements of their gameplay and presence. The producers no longer shy away from these conversations. In fact, they often lean into them, signaling a broader societal shift toward empathy, inclusion, and awareness.
This evolution isn’t just performative. The game mechanics have changed to reward emotional intelligence as much as physical dominance. Social strategy now often hinges on trust, authenticity, and adaptability. In a world grappling with cultural reckoning and systemic upheaval, Survivor is no longer just a battle of brawn, but a test of how well you navigate diverse personalities, perspectives, and pressures.
Of course, it’s still a game. There are blindsides, betrayals, and backstabs. But even these elements echo our current realities: how trust is brokered, how power is wielded, and how we all must navigate systems that are often rigged, messy, and unpredictable.
Survivor has always been a microcosm of the world. What’s changed is the world it’s mirroring.
As we continue to grapple with polarization, inequality, and identity in real life, the island becomes a strange kind of sanctuary; people from radically different backgrounds are forced to live together, listen, and, if only for 26 days, find a way to outwit, outplay, and outlast not just each other, but their own assumptions.
In doing so, Survivor does what great art and storytelling have always done: it reflects who we are, who we’ve been, and who we might become.
And, if they finally let me on Survivor (I have only applied five times), we could have two Boston University alumni be awarded the title of Sole Survivor.
I am looking at you, Boston Rob.
Want to keep up with HCBU? Make sure to like us on Facebook, follow us on Instagram, check out our Pinterest board, watch us on TikTok, and read our latest Tweets!