Happy Birthday, Richard Hatch

You taught me about America. Thanks guys!

Apr 8, 2019 2:00PM EDT

Rosa Lyster @rosalyster

Rosa Lyster is a writer who lives in Cape Town.

The first few seasons of Survivor had a profound impact on me.
I would not put the show in the same category as Wayne’s World or The Simpsons in terms of the role it played in shaping my ideas of America, but it taught me a lot and I think of it often.
Survivor was what first introduced me to the fact that many American women have insanely powerful and muscly legs, even or especially the ones you wouldn’t expect.
Every single time I see a powerful and muscly American leg, I think of old Jerri in the second season of Survivor, wearing her sport bikini and her trainers and having some insanely powerful and muscly legs.
I learned that while being terrifyingly and nakedly competitive to the extent that it presents as a personality disorder is not by any means an exclusively American quality, there is a certain kind of acceptance of this quality within America that allows it to flourish in interesting ways.
Yes, the producers specifically chose people who would be guaranteed to start behaving like sociopaths at the first sign of pressure or discomfort. Still though.
Promotional material for the show often describes it as “the greatest social experiment on television”, but this seems like a bit of a stretch. “Putting people into teams and making them compete against each other” is not exactly up there with the Milgram experiment.
One of the main things I remember about the first season of Survivor was that everyone started behaving like total maniacs from the moment their feet hit the sand. They didn’t need to be persuaded or coerced into acts of bewildering psychological aggression. They were READY. They were probably doing it on the plane ride there – gripping air hostesses by the lapels and screaming hoarsely about needing to win.
Where did these people come from? How did they all know how to be so insane?
You, for instance, were clearly off your rocker from day one. You needed no assistance from anyone.
You had this kind of glittery perverted leer on your face at all times. The leer was not exactly lascivious – it was more like you were ogling the social fabric, if that makes sense, getting ready to fuck the whole thing in front of everyone.
This is maybe a bit much, but you yourself were a bit much, as I’m sure you know.
Happy Birthday.