Digital Nomad – World Footprints

Publisher’s Note: We respect that travel is a personal choice and that some depend on travel for their livelihood. Before embarking on travel it is imperative that you monitor your health and research local government restrictions, rules, and safety measures related to COVID-19.

A global pandemic, travel bans, and now hurricanes — what else have you got for us, 2020?!

It hasn’t been an easy year for anyone, and although there is no comparison to the struggles faced by those who have dealt with the virus firsthand, the border restrictions related to COVID-19 have taken a toll on travel lovers as we are unable to roam the world like we once did.

Travel is not the same, but it is not impossible, and as someone who based her livelihood and well-being off of travel, it was time to hit the road — as safely and consciously as possible.

As a travel writer, editor, and content creator, along with owning a travel business, Adventurelust, my lifestyle has taken me around the globe to wherever calls my soul and has strong Wi-Fi. While many people find comfort and happiness in being home and in a stable routine, my well-being is heavily related to travel. I had an incredible summer with friends, family, and exploring my home of Canada, but as the weather turned colder and COVID-19 continues to persist, it was time for my nomadic soul to relocate once again. I understand this choice is not for everyone, but for me personally, this was really the only choice.

I am not alone in my mindset of escaping to somewhere more desirable than my dreary homeland during the winter. My destination was Tulum, Mexico, where I encountered plenty of other expats, online workers, and even vacationers who were after the same goal: happiness.

Many had been in Mexico since pre-pandemic days and had just hunkered down during the depths of quarantine. Others were like me, there for a few months because quarantining back at our parents’ house just wasn’t serving our soul. Others were there on vacation, an escape from reality back home. Each of us had our reasons, but there was no shortage of us. I had never visited Tulum and couldn’t even imagine how crowded it must be during the pre-COVID era because there is certainly a fair share of people there now!

Of course, the draws are obvious — Mexico is a quick flight for many North Americans, and is a beautiful, tropical, warm destination where the waters are blue and the tequila is abundant. If that weren’t enough, borders are fully open with no restrictions — no quarantine upon arrival, no COVID-19 test results, no countries are banned. While there is undeniably a more free-spirited vibe here than in the suburbs of British Columbia where I have been for the past six months, there are still masks being worn, sanitizer and temperature checks at most entrances, and social distancing measures in place.

As I arrived in Tulum, Canada felt worlds away. The beach is absolutely stunning, there is life on the streets, the local atmosphere is buzzing, the food and drinks scene is delectable, with tons of delicious and trendy cafes, restaurants, and bars. While my family and friends back home (love you guys!) are bundling up for Canadian winter, my daily attire here consists of flip flops, a bathing suit, and a light cover-up. It’s too hot and humid for a T-shirt let alone a sweatshirt or jacket.

But of course, it’s 2020, so my newfound bliss couldn’t last forever. A few days into arriving in Tulum, a tropical storm hit. Intense winds, horizontal rain, power outages, and debris swept across the streets. Electricity was out in town and we were left with no options for food except for one taco stand with a generator. I’d never experienced a storm like that, but that was only the prelude.

A few days later, Hurricane Delta was on its way. This was a level up from the tropical storm and I didn’t want to wait around and see just how much more serious it could get. I recruited a few friends I had met in Tulum and we set off to Bacalar, a few hours inland and south of Tulum. My only goal was to get away from the coast and out of the hurricane’s path, which was heading due north.

This time I was prepared with snacks, fully charged devices, and downloaded shows and podcasts. Better to be safe than sorry — but I didn’t need it! The storm bypassed Bacalar with only moderate winds and rain, and fleeing the hurricane turned into a nice little getaway to a place that was on my bucket list anyway.

Escaping the storm in Bacalar. Photo: Kellie Paxian

Oh, but wait. 2020 wasn’t done yet.

I had relocated to Isla Mujeres, an island off of the coast of Cancun, beckoned by a less touristy scene, more affordable prices, and a more down-to-earth vibe compared to Tulum. This island is one of my new happy places. I stayed at Nomads Experience and then Selina Hostel, both located right on the beach, and connected with fellow travellers as we lounged in hammocks, ate tacos, and wiggled our toes in the sand. This is what I had been missing and craving so desperately for the better half of 2020.

About five days into my stay at Isla Mujeres, we caught wind that about storm was coming: Zeta. It was a tropical storm edging on hurricane status, and it was heading right for the Yucatan Peninsula.

We were assured that it wouldn’t be seriously threatening, we didn’t have to evacuate the island, and we should just charge our devices (check), stock up on snacks (still got ‘em from the last one) and stay inside once the storm hit (I’m an old pro at this by now).

Hurricane looming in Isla Mujeres. Photo: Kellie Paxian
Photo: Kellie Paxian

Being right on the beach for the storm this time was a wild experience. We felt the winds get stronger and stronger as we progressed into the afternoon. The clouds loomed darker and darker over the ocean. Eventually, the sand was whipping at our legs and in our eyes by the gusts that swept across the entire beach. The wind was so strong I could barely stand up without being blown over (not an exaggeration!). It was time to stay inside while the power flickered once, twice, and then went out for the night. We played music on our phones in the dark, and the wind continued to roar.

That was my third and final tropical storm of the month, and I think I’ve reached my quota. I’m so grateful that none of them resulted in any serious damage, but the storm has continued on and others have not been so lucky. For me, it was an eye-opening experience to witness an ounce of the natural disasters that have been so devastating around the globe.

Just another reminder not to take life for granted and live it to the fullest, while staying as safe as we can.

Cenote diving in Tulum. Photo: @Tulum.breathtaking

Author Kellie Paxian. Cenote diving in Tulum. Photo: @Tulum.breathtaking — Cenote diving in Tulum. Photo: @Tulum.breathtaking

Cover: Author Kellie Paxiant traveling during COVID

“I hoped things had changed. [George Floyd’s murder] makes me feel like almost nothing has changed. It makes me feel like I wouldn’t mind never going back to America,” says Gene Ellis, a Black American web developer currently in Mexico.

The Black American travel market is a $63 billion industry. Yet, Black American travelers and travel influencers continue to be underrepresented, under-catered-to, and undervalued. The Black Travel Alliance recently launched a campaign, #PullUpforTravel, to hold the industry accountable — urging brands that posted black squares for #blackouttuesday to share their actual diversity scorecards and commitments to action and improvement.

As hate crimes and police violence continue, Black Americans fear for their lives. Back in 2017, one Black travel writer named the “Trump Factor” as the second reason Black Americans should get a passport: “given the current state of white supremacy, shootings of unarmed Black men, murders of Black women while in custody and sex trafficking of underage girls and women going on (all of which are perpetrated by our police) there may come a time when you need to dip.”

“Abroad, any racism I’ve faced has come from fear of the unknown. They have little information and it’s inaccurate; they’re generalizing because they don’t know.”
Gabby Beckford

Feeling unsafe in the U.S., many Black Americans are glad to be in other countries — or eager to go abroad. The concept is not new; the “Back to Africa” movement emerged in the 19th century. While the phrase “go back to Africa” has been used derogatorily, Black-owned companies like Black & Abroad have sought to reclaim it, and in 2019, Ghana led a campaign for the “Year of Return” to encourage descendants of those forcibly removed from the continent to return.

Butre - a village in the Ahanta West district in the Western Region of Ghana. — Butre – a village in the Ahanta district in western Ghana.

“Many Black people feel as though America is not made for us. We feel discriminated against in so many ways. And it’s not just the physical abuse necessarily… It’s the mental turmoil of having to prove yourself and overcome stereotypes about intelligence and ability to get the job done,” said Olumide Gbenro, a Nigerian man raised in America.

Safer Abroad?

Gabby Beckford, a full-time Black and multicultural travel entrepreneur and content creator — and founding member of the Black Travel Alliance — says she’s seen increased interest in traveling and moving abroad from Black Americans.

“For those abroad right now, they’re happy they’re not in the U.S. right now. There’s been a huge push for Black Americans to move, especially to Africa where we have roots. America is not as it used to be and there are other countries with other opportunities. Those abroad seem happy their country is containing coronavirus better, especially because Black people have been affected disproportionately,” says Beckford.

Several of the Black nomads and travelers we spoke to said they felt safer, experienced less racism, or felt less threatened by racism abroad than in the United States.

“While I am at home I feel like I constantly have to police myself in order to not be the topic of discussion in a white setting. It goes from what I am wearing to what I say and how I speak. My tone, my hair, my attitude. While I am abroad and in the countries that I’ve been to, the very things that made me super self-conscious are the things that are praised here. I’ve been told that I am beautiful and that my hair and skin is beautiful. I get stares abroad as well as I do back at home, however, I feel like the staring is out of curiosity rather than ignorance,” says Latrice Coates, a digital nomad currently in Thailand.

A temple in the Chiang Mai province in Thailand. — A temple in the Chiang Mai province of Thailand.

Both Coates and Ellis said they hadn’t personally experienced any direct racism abroad. “I do know that it exists,” said Coates, “however, I also believe that my blue passport grants me more grace than anything. Once people know that I am an American the vibe typically switches — a different tone of voice and more willingness to help out.”

Ellis acknowledges that there are many types of racism around the world, such as Asians thinking white skin is more attractive. “But in terms of systemic racism, I’ve never felt that anywhere except America.” Growing up in the U.S., Ellis was called the N-word, told to break up with certain girlfriends because he is Black, pulled over for no reason, and surrounded by cops because he “fit the description,” to name just a few examples. A few years ago, a friend begged and pleaded with him to leave America. “I don’t know what I would do if you were killed just for being you,” she told him.

“I am always conscious of where I go as a Black American,” says Coates. “I am always aware of the spaces that I enter, what I say, where I work, whom I talk to, what hours of the night I stop for gas, how I speak to the police… It is second nature to always look into where I am headed to next… It’s embedded in myself and my brothers and sisters to always seek these things while moving abroad and domestically.”

“Abroad, any racism I’ve faced has come from fear of the unknown. They have little information and it’s inaccurate; they’re generalizing because they don’t know. I have definitely faced more racism in the U.S. Outside the U.S. it’s not as expected or accepted,” says Beckford.

“…While I am abroad and in the countries that I’ve been to, the very things that made me super self-conscious are the things that are praised here…”
Latrice Coates

For Gbenro, the month he arrived in Bali, a white foreigner aggressively called him the N-word. He says the racism he’s experienced abroad has been worse than the more subtle variety he experienced in the U.S.: for example, being followed around department stores and jokes about interracial dating.

Gbenro says the nomad community has a responsibility to speak out against discrimination. Just being a nomad doesn’t mean someone is not racist. “I think there’s a danger in thinking because you’ve traveled to 60 countries you get a pass. I believe travel is the ultimate equalizer because you really see the human condition and how it surpasses what you look like and what skin color you have. I urge the remote entrepreneurs who have the influence and impact to use their voice to shine light on this. Even if it’s not affecting you directly we need your voice.”

Representation in the Travel Industry

“It feels like something supernatural is happening and we’re being forced to reckon with the decisions we’ve made as a society,” says Beckford, speaking about both the coronavirus pandemic and the movement for racial justice. “We are reckoning with ourselves as an individualistic and selfish society. That same selfishness and individualism is what lets racism be perpetuated. That’s why there’s a Black travel movement/exodus.”

Gbenro organized a Digital Nomad Summit with several hundred attendees that was held the first week of June — just after Floyd’s murder. After his death, Gbenro thought, “‘Not again’ — they keep killing us like animals on television screens. I felt disrespected by the nation that I spent much of my life in. But after I calmed down emotionally I also realized the tremendous responsibility I had as a successful Black entrepreneur to still execute the task at hand. I’m sure a few people wondered why I didn’t bring [Floyd’s death] up, but I saw it as a chance to use my success and influence to contribute to inspiring people that look like me.”

Coates helps businesses grow their brands, and says that since Floyd’s murder, several white-owned brands have reached out to her on Instagram for collaborations to diversify their feed. She turned most of them down, because they didn’t seem genuine and weren’t even offering her payment. She did accept an opportunity to do an Instagram takeover — where she could control the narrative.

For Beckford, a big reason she co-founded the Black Travel Alliance was to advocate for representation and share the narratives of Black travelers. Beckford often gets questions about why representation in travel — a leisure activity — matters. “It affects systemic racism and mindset in the travel industry and beyond,” she says. “It’s really important to see Black people not just in the context of war, poverty, and civil rights actions. We enjoy and deserve luxury. Seeing Black people as humans is just as important as seeing Black people in trauma porn. Black people deserve to relax and enjoy our lives.”

We couldn’t agree more. Follow Beckford, Gbenro, Coates, and here are 20 more Black travel influencers from Essence.