Outed

In the following exclusive column for The Hollywood Reporter, Zeke  — one of very few players in show history to compete on back- to- back seasons — shares his side of the journey, his experience as a trans man, the reasons why he pursued Survivor, the thrill of that adventure, and what it was like on the night he was outed on national television — and how he powered through it. I'm not wild about you knowing that I'm trans. An odd sentiment, I realize, for someone who signed up for two seasons of the CBS reality giant, Survivor. See, when I got on a plane to Fiji last March, I expected to get voted out third. I'd return home, laugh at my misadventure, and go about my life, casually trans in the same way that Zac Efron is casually Jewish. But that's not what happened.

I ended up being pretty good at Survivor. I was invited back immediately for an all- star season, during the course of which I was maliciously outed by a former local network news anchor.

What a summer! After 3. Survivor is far from the cute little social experiment it began as in the summer of 2. Yes, castaways still sleep in the dirt and eat only what can be scrounged around the island, primarily coconut. Coconut, by the way, is a natural laxative. Deep into the 3. 9- day adventure, players reach a crossroads where they must decide between starving or eating a handful of coconut and enduring severe gastrointestinal distress. There's no toilet paper. If anything needs cleaning, it gets cleaned with sand and saltwater.

Zeke Smith, a 28-year-old transgender man competing on the reality TV show Survivor: Game Changers, was outed by a fellow contestant in an episode that aired. Jason`S Return In. The Plame affair (also known as the CIA leak scandal and Plamegate) was a political scandal that revolved around journalist Robert Novak's public identification of. Celebrities Who Were Yanked Out Of The Closet. K shares + Kevin Spacey isn't the only star who got supposedly outed against his will. Outed definition, away from, or not in, the normal or usual place, position, state, etc.: out of alphabetical order; to go out to dinner.

Zeke Smith Transgender

Outed On Grindr

But, the harsh elements merely play backdrop to a complex game of social politics dominated by secret alliances, hidden advantages and each cutthroat player's ability to befriend and betray any who stand in their way. The world possesses no greater test of wit and grit than Survivor . And it is in that same spirit of ridiculousness that I honestly tell you I would not change a single element of the story I'm about to relay, for I loved my adventure and cannot wait to embark upon the next. Growing up, I set big lofty goals — Broadway, a high school debate championships, Harvard — and pursued them doggedly. While my peers in Oklahoma were content to follow the path set for them, I forged my own, leaping from boulder to boulder with no regard for what was expected of me. I leapt fueled solely by my belief in myself, because, well, nobody liked me very much.

I leapt fearlessly, until .. I crashed. The double whammy of major depression and transitioning blasted away my confidence. The failure I experienced made me doubt everything I once believed to be true about myself.

Zeke Smith, who appeared on back-to-back seasons of the reality series, was.

I found it difficult enough to simply put one foot in front of the other. This happened to be the moment in my life when I began watching Survivor. So significant was the experience that I remember where I watched episode one of Survivor: Cook Islands; I remember the date, May 2, 2. I remember distinctly Jeff Probst's opening line, . Whether I was conscious of it or not, .

Suddenly, I found myself drawn to engage in challenging social situations, run obstacle races and backpack the Grand Canyon. None of which were ventures I'd have chosen earlier in my life.

But there was this pesky little voice in the back of my mind persistently whispering, . Most were supportive in theory, but distanced themselves, unsure and a little weirded out by the process. On the whole, the world doesn't treat trans people with much kindness. Even those who aren't outwardly hateful crinkle their noses at you. When enough people crinkle their noses at you, you begin to think you stink. I began connecting with others in a meaningful way around the same time that my being trans stopped being a readily known fact about me.

After graduating and moving to New York, no one knew me or saw me as anything other than Zeke, which was tremendously liberating — my whole life, I desired my manhood to be known without question or qualification. Many gay people consider coming out a moment of liberation, because sharing their sexual orientation with the world causes them to be seen more authentically. Often, the opposite is true for trans people. When we share our gender history, many see us less authentically — doubting, probing or denying our identities. As someone who is not readily perceived to be trans, I possess a great deal of privilege, both because I can control — well, used to control — who knows my gender history, and also because I don't experience the same type of discrimination, or even violence, that more visible trans people face — especially trans women of color.

Keeping your gender history private is not the same as a gay person being . You make it up as you go along, and I struggled with finding the right time to disclose my gender history to those close to me. Les 4 Vérités.

My gut would tell me to fill someone in, but then panic would wash over me. What if that person told other people? My biggest concern was that if people knew, their opinion of me would change.

I feared if I let anyone too close, they'd smell my stench and not want to be my friend anymore. Better to have acquaintances than no one at all. So I held them at arm's length. Honestly, I held the world at arm's length.

I came to fear discomfort and risk taking on the off chance that I might fail again. I never resumed leaping. I followed the path of least resistance, telling myself I would amount to something someday, just not today. Until one day I realized that if the somedays didn't start becoming todays, I'd run out of days.

If the first chapter of the Zeke book of my life is about rebuilding from failure, I was well rebuilt. However, the structure's sturdiness needed to be tested, because until it was, I would never definitively know if I was the man I believed myself to be. On a hot night in the summer of 2. I pondered what this test might be. The answer appeared instantly, for it had been the constant in this chapter: Survivor. I applied. I didn't discuss my trans status in my initial video because I wanted the show to desire me as a game player and an eccentric storyteller, not as . Casting called back two hours later, and I began to panic.

I'd chosen to test myself in a tremendously public way. The results of the test wouldn't be discreetly mailed back to me; they'd be broadcast to the entire world. I threw myself into preparation. There was no room for failure. I lifted weights in the morning, swam at night, and in between acclimated to the heat in the sauna while reading books on mental toughness techniques utilized by endurance athletes.

I ordered a bundle of bamboo poles and practiced making fire on the roof of my apartment building. I gave up caffeine and booze. I solved puzzles and tied and untied knots. I listened to Hamilton. I was not throwing away my shot.

The reality of playing Survivor terrified me, but I resolved that nothing would stand between me and the island. So I woke up every morning and told myself I would win. I faked confidence, hoping that when the day finally came to be dropped on a beach and meet the dashingly dimpled host and executive producer, Jeff Probst, I'd finally believe it. The moment I put that buff, the official Survivor player uniform, on my head, my confidence became real. I knew I'd conquer whatever the game might throw at me.

Now I could just play. Gen X, instantly proved challenging. No one on my tribe of freewheeling Millennials had any idea how — or willingness to — build a shelter. The first night we huddled together in the mud as the Fijian skies dumped buckets of rain upon us. But I went to be challenged. Not even Beyonce herself could've tempted me out of the rain and mud and back into my soft Brooklyn bed.

All my preparation paid off: I made fire with bamboo — I made a fire by rubbing two damn sticks together. I excelled in challenges, proving myself adept in the water and a master at puzzles.

Strategically, I initially found myself the low man on the totem pole. I very easily could've been voted out third, but I managed to form strong relationships, maneuver other players to my will and climb my way to the top of the pack. I impressed the hell out of myself.

I couldn't believe how well I was doing. Put under Survivor's high stakes, I got out of my own way and allowed myself to be the man I always hoped I would be. Playing Survivor well means knowing when to play fast and when to play slow, but deep into the game I was having so much fun playing fast that I laid on the gas.

My prowess became undeniable and, as is the fate of most who are considered the leading threat to win, I was voted out. Jeff Probst looked me square in the eyes and snuffed my torch, extinguishing my life in the game.

Twenty minutes later, before I could scarf a cheeseburger or peel off my rotting boxers, Probst asked if I was up for doing it all over again .. I'd made such a believer out of Probst that my second shot came immediately, which meant that I was every bit the player I'd dreamed I'd be.

I cannot think of a time in my life when I was happier, more fulfilled and more at peace with myself. I was living, finally. Why stop now? Playing with rookies was one thing, but playing alongside my Survivor heroes in a season called Survivor: Game Changers was quite another.

It was like waking up in Westeros, Lord Zeke of the Mustache Lands, fighting to claim the Iron Throne. But instead of flying dragons with Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, I trailed Ozzy, Master of Spear Fishing, out to the reef, dove down and watched him catch fish. Tai, the Chicken Whisperer, and I killed three chickens together.

Debbie, the Woman with an Infinite Number of Jobs, told me about all of her jobs. I'd been charmed by my castmates' quirks and touched by their stories. There's no one whose journey resonated with me more than former local network news anchor Jeff Varner. Walking into the season, his story was that he'd played twice and never made the jury, the Survivor equivalent of making the playoffs. This was Varner's third shot and likely his last.