“Growing up queer in a small, isolated community is very difficult,” Stephen confessed early in the latest season ofThe Traitors. It was a statement that landed with a profound weight, echoing the hidden realities of so many within the LGBTQ+ community.
I’m 38 now, and finally feel a deep sense of self-assurance. My relationships are stronger, my choices are my own, and the need to please others has faded. Yet, even now, I find myself adapting, shifting personas depending on the situation.
Like Stephen, my youth was spent constructing a carefully curated character. True freedom, true self-expression, was reserved for private moments – for me, losing myself in Britney Spears’ performances within the sanctuary of my bedroom.
I never formally “came out” to friends. Leaving a notoriously homophobic town for the open-mindedness of Bristol allowed me to simply *be* gay. But even that felt incomplete; my family didn’t meet the real me until I was 33.
That late unveiling revealed a startling truth: I hadn’t truly known my authentic self at all. Now, free from the constraints of the closet, I realize how much of my life was spent in performance.
But in a world that feels increasingly hostile towards LGBTQ+ individuals, I find myself retreating again. A simple bus ride prompts a silent calculation: is it safe to be openly queer? An Uber journey raises another question: can I use my natural voice and admit my disinterest in football?
This constant assessment isn’t unique to the queer experience. Many people, regardless of orientation, have felt pressured to conform, to mask their true selves. But for gay men, the practice of self-preservation through performance can become deeply ingrained.
Perhaps that’s why Stephen’s words resonated so powerfully. It’s why, in many ways, queer people have spent a lifetime being “traitors” – betraying their own authenticity for the sake of safety and acceptance.
Yet, I’ve also learned that certain spaces allow, even encourage, my true self to shine. Walking into a room of women, I’ve found that my queerness often creates an immediate sense of comfort and connection.
Stephen, it seems, understands this dynamic instinctively. His ability to read a room, to navigate social complexities, is a direct result of a life spent honing the art of perception and adaptation.
The Traitorsmight be the only game show where being LGBTQ+ isn’t just tolerated, but actively advantageous. It’s a space where the skills developed through years of navigating a prejudiced world can become a secret weapon.
Stephen is the first openly gay man to be chosen as a Traitor, and he’s openly acknowledged his intention to leverage his past experiences. He’s tapping into a skillset many of us know intimately: the ability to convincingly portray someone we’re not.
Early in the game, Stephen has remained largely under the radar, a testament to his practiced subtlety. The only real question mark surrounds a potential alliance between Ellie and Ross.
This season introduces a new twist: a secret Traitor, operating under the control of an unknown force. If forced to guess, my suspicion falls on Ellie. The impact of this hidden player on Stephen’s game remains to be seen.
But Stephen’s insightful reflections on his youth suggest he possesses the resilience and strategic thinking to go all the way. He’s been preparing for this moment his entire life.
For the first time, the skills honed through years of hiding can be channeled towards success. The shame and secrecy of the past can be transformed into a path to victory, and potentially a share of the £120,000 prize.
I find myself captivated by Stephen’s journey, rooting for him with an intensity I haven’t felt for any contestant before. His story is a powerful reminder that our struggles can, in fact, be our strengths.
As long as Stephen and Rachel can maintain their composure – and avoid being as conspicuously strategic as Lady Gaga discussing tactics – they have the potential to become the most formidable Traitors the show has ever seen. I have unwavering faith in his ability to play the game, and win.
