Solo travel as a transgender woman can be a joyful, liberating experience – here’s one writer’s experience.
Fact checked by Elizabeth MacLennan
Much of the writing about traveling while transgender is decidedly negative. I would know – I’ve written some of it. Travel as a trans person can be frustrating, heartbreaking, and even dangerous; from the indignities of airport TSA checkpoints to the constant stares in small towns to outright discrimination and violence, there’s much to discourage one from exploring the world. However, those struggles are not the whole narrative; solo travel as a transgender woman can also be an incredibly joyful, liberating experience.
Trans Invisibility
When I touch down at an airport or step into a new city’s ambiance, I gain an opportunity that I don’t experience at home: anonymity. I become just another face in the crowd, a stranger—an outsider due to my origin rather than solely because of my gender.
One of the challenges during gender transition is that even supportive friends and loved ones knew me as a different person for much longer than they’ve known me as my current self. Despite their best efforts, they might continue to think of me in that context until a substantial effort has been made or an appropriate amount of time has passed. In contrast, when I introduce myself to someone in a new city or country, they only know the name, gender, and backstory I convey.
The omission of unnecessary truths offers a soothing reprieve from reality, and it gets even better: there are few—if any—consequences if I outright fabricate details. To my new acquaintances, I may be a professional travel writer, a copyright lawyer, or a singer-songwriter. I hold the freedom to creatively redefine myself at each fresh destination and, whether the identity suits me or not, I’m off to the next adventure with nothing but fantastic memories.
Trans visibility is often a topic in media discourse, yet one of the primary joys of travel for me is experiencing trans invisibility.
Activism Through Existence
According to prevalent narratives about trans lives, including some formed by the trans women themselves, we are essentially doomed. We’re fated to experience ostracization and struggle, desperately seeking love while being consistently at risk. Therefore, many are terrified that their children might be trans and actively work to prevent this by legislating against it. In February, Texas Governor Greg Abbott urged the public to report parents of transgender minors receiving gender-affirming care, labeling it as “child abuse.”
Depending on whom you listen to, trans women of color might have a life expectancy of only 30 or 35 years. While this statistic is propagated by both allies and even members of our community, it’s not only inaccurate, but it’s a damaging falsehood with serious consequences.
I’ve been contemplating that statistic lately as I approach my 35th birthday. Just by continuing to live, I provide a counter-narrative. By embracing the world, I facilitate a glimmer of hope. I am a cheerful trans woman of color and find joy in my great job while traveling globally. My existence showcases that being trans isn’t the worst identity one could possess. It is my sincere hope that young trans or questioning children may observe me smiling, thriving, and perhaps, question the narrative they’ve been fed.
The Beauty of Trans Embodiment
I’ve explored numerous destinations, including Rome, Florence, Santiago, Bogotá, Los Angeles, Seattle, Atlanta, Indianapolis, and Washington, DC. However, my most cherished travel memories often lie beyond the confines of major cities.
Whether scaling El Capitan in Yosemite, trekking through the Colombian jungles to the “Lost City,” or standing a mere 30 meters from a herd of wild elephants in Mole National Park in Ghana, my ultimate motivation for travel is to connect with nature. This bond enriches my life and reinforces the beauty and joy that comes with trans embodiment.
Popular narratives suggest that trans people are “born in the wrong body” and suffer from life-threatening body dysphoria. This perception is often a requirement to access necessary medical care. While that may ring true for many, it does not apply to my reality; I love my trans body.
My body carries me across the globe. By traveling, I pen a love letter to my existence simply by inhabiting it and engaging with the world around me. When ensconced in nature, I find serenity. There’s no judgment or discrimination; just me amidst the trees, animals, and mountains—walking freely without qualification. This active experience is, for me, the quintessential expression of self-love.
I’m not naive about reality. I face countless precautions for my safety that most cisgender people might overlook while traveling. Nonetheless, I prioritize exploration because it allows me to relish the joy and freedom that those who oppose me desperately wish to see denied. Solo travel as a trans woman presents risks, yet it also opens doors to exhilarating possibilities. Therefore, I have always found it worthwhile to embrace this adventurous journey.
