The other day someone asked me if I was taking applications. Me like a dummy fell for the line of questioning only to be told that for the way I travel, they wanted to trade their job for mine. So I won’t dwell on perceptions and assumptions people have when they haven’t spent a day in your shoes (no time for the foolery on this blog) but I will gladly dig right into the myth that implies that only people of other cultures have the inalienable rights totravel without prejudice. And without side eyes.
Last summer saw me in NC, then NYC, then PA, then HI, then NJ and then back to NYC to return then to FL. A boatload of circumstances, proper planning and plain ol’ Jehovah Jireh provided for all this galavanting across the nation. This spring saw me on a cruise, twice in GA and a fourth trip down to JA (that’s Jamaica for those who don’t know the island monikers). And I’m counting down to my trip to SC in September! Tongues can start wagging at one’s ability to pick up and go. People will volunteer to help you count your coins, just to help figure out for themselves, how in the name of ratchet and raggedy did you do all of that?!!!
What seems interesting in all of this is the acceptance that white folks can trek to Bora Bora and no one bats an eye. Someone from the Middle East can jet off on the Arab Emirates to Dubai and it’s just a regular news day. Europeans are expected to jet across the big pond and back with nary a word. But let a brotha or sistah make the same moves and folks on social media creepin’ and countin’ how many trips you have already made in less than a year! Show me this mysterious travel quota. Smh.
Black brethrens and sistrens! We gotta do better! We simply have to do better. Anytime someone mentions “well when do you work?” or assume you don’t work, (cause remember if you’re not taking selfies at your desk on a regular, you don’t work), there is some hidden messages in those statements people.
Where is it written that Disney World is the limit to my traveling? Where is it written that Miami Beach is the destination of the world? Side note: I’m from St. Maarten. You ain’t seen beaches until you’ve seen Simpson Bay, but I digress. Where is it written that you shouldn’t be able to endure a 12 hour flight to Hawaii. Yes your ankle will get swollen but you won’t be thinking of that while you slurping up them “scrimps” from Giovanni’s Food Truck on the side of the road. The next time you see that couple take flight to Dubai, don’t suck your teeth. Save the page and send them a text when you make your plans to take your own trip there.
I may die tomorrow and never see the Motherland. But knowing that I know someone who did and that they shared their journey with mee will just have to do. Knowing that they can freely speak about their experience without being “travel-shamed” into submission is only fair. So instead of turning green with unreasonable envy, take notes and get your life.
Let’s have a funeral for the hate that so controls us at the successes of others. Let’s bury the “crab in the bucket” foolery. Our experiences inform our existence and lend such a beautiful essence to ourselves. We can in turn bless others with the stories and inspire others to push their own boundaries and set aside the fears that have beset our culture for far too long. Now you won’t catch me ziplining anytime soon in the Amazon Forest but call me when you’re ready to go white water rafting (with my non-swimming self).
Celebrate the innate wanderlust of our culture and the spirit of exploration.
Next blog: How to save for your travel lifestyle. Cause it’s definitely not free. Unless you for a sugar daddy. And you’re selling yourself to the highest bidder. 😏