Anthony Ervin: The Rebel Olympian on Chasing Water, Finding Meaning in Gold & The Search For Authenticity

“I’ve always felt the story of my life has been about being normal but on the fringes of abnormality, and it’s the fringes that separate my history from the rest.”
Anthony Ervin





Imagine winning an Olympic gold medal in swimming at age 19 at the 2000 Sydney Olympics. A feat never-before achieved by a swimmer of African-American descent, the frenzied media swarms. The only problem? You’re only half-black. You definitely don’t look black. And you know nothing about what it’s like to be part of the black experience.
The unrelenting crush of public expectation to fulfill a role at odds with your private sense of self becomes so intense, you retreat from your Olympic experience not with any lasting sense of happiness, satisfaction and pride, but rather a numb confusion.
This isn’t anything like I thought it would be…
Over time, the confusion metastasizes into disillusionment. And it’s not long before depression sets in.
Lost and lacking the tools to cope, life begins to pivot away from the dreaded black line at the bottom of the pool and towards a dreadlocked blur of rock ‘n roll, boozy, drug-fueled binges, rampant womanizing, cigarette haze, and death-defying motorcycle crashes.
Nonetheless, over the next three years you continue to do the one thing you know how to do: swim. Not only do you continue to win, in 2001 you’re crowned the world champion in two events. But these results only magnify what is quickly becoming a profound crisis of identity.
Who am I? Why am I doing this? What does it all mean?
The answers continue to elude you until you find yourself so despondent, so desperate for relief, that you down a handful of tranquilizers. But the suicide attempt fails, fueling a sense of invincibility that only hastens the onset of an even more profound darkness.
So, at the young age of 22, at the peak of his abilities, Anthony Ervin does what he has to — he walks away from the thing he used to love. The thing that gave him everything. The thing that made him a star. The thing that betrayed it’s promise of making him whole.
In a Hail Mary attempt to discover and re-create his life, Anthony travels the world. He meditates at a Buddhist temple. He studies philosophy with a Sufi mystic. He reclaims his body with tattoos. He enrolls in graduate school but spends summers in Brooklyn, where he immerses himself in books, writes poetry, and even occasionally cross-dresses at parties.
The denouement? Hawking his Olympic gold medal on eBay and donating the proceeds to the UNICEF tsunami relief fund.
The only thing Anthony Ervin didn’t do during this time? Swim.
Not one stroke.






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The next eight years marked a complete divorce from anything and everything swimming. In fact, not one of Anthony’s new friends during this time had any idea he was even an athlete, let alone an Olympic champion. He was just another tattooed, guitar-playing Brooklynite seeking answers to the Universe in music, meditation, books and partying.
But with funds dwindling, Anthony offhandedly takes a gig teaching New York kids how to swim. The experience of service begins to erode his jaded shell and ignites an unexpected spark of appreciation for his former life. A new sense of self worth begins to emerge, informing the why in Anthony’s quest for spiritual self-actualization. Suddenly, love for the sport he so thoroughly placed in his rearview begins to rekindle.
In 2011, Anthony returns to the water. And almost overnight, the impossible occurs.
Twelve years after Sydney, Anthony qualifies for the 2012 London Olympics — his second U.S. Olympic team. Despite his 31 years of age (ancient in the world of swi...