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If you鈥檙e one of the more than  who left your home for someone else鈥檚 in 2018, then chances are you鈥檙e familiar with the quote 鈥淭ravel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.鈥� First written in 1869 by Mark Twain in The Innocents Abroad, or The New Pilgrims鈥� Progress, this quote is so hyped you can find it copied and pasted into Instagram captions, travel blogs, and memes, on posters, mugs, and luggage tags. It continues: 鈥淏road, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one鈥檚 lifetime.鈥�

The flawed core in this thinking, that those who have the privilege and access to travel are more enlightened than those who haven鈥檛鈥攅specially considering the world鈥檚 most well-traveled people brought smallpox and small-mindedness everywhere they went鈥攃an be found in Twain鈥檚 usage of 鈥渙ur people.鈥� We can assume he wasn鈥檛 accounting for the vast majority of this world鈥檚 people of color who cannot travel for leisure but are rather unwilling hosts to foreign occupations or peoples being displaced by extractivism and war. We know for sure he wasn鈥檛 referring to the Indigenous people of Turtle Island, whom  in , his 1870 takedown of author James Fenimore Cooper鈥檚 romanticism. And he wasn鈥檛 referring to the stolen Africans and their descendants who were forced into chattel slavery and who were 鈥渧egetating鈥� in their respective little corners of the Earth before those innocents ventured abroad and stepped foot on their lands.

So, what is the truth about travel? Are we doing our vacations wrong?

The truth is that tourism, like any other capitalistic project, is about consumption for profit. But 鈥減lace鈥� isn鈥檛 an endlessly renewable commodity鈥攊t is someone鈥檚 home, and the communities who call it so rarely factor in fairly to our conceptions of travel as an enlightening project.

From the economic instability that tourist cultures bring to their overuse of natural resources that exacerbate climate disasters, to glaring labor exploitation and gendered oppression that keep poor women of color living under the boot of White supremacist patriarchy, participating in the mass tourism industry is more likely to spread social inequality than staying home would.

Today, U.S. travelers are heading to the Global South more than ever. While Europe remains the No. 1 global tourist destination, and wealthy Global North nations top international tourist arrivals lists, U.S. Americans in particular prefer to ,

From 1950 to 2018, international tourism arrivals grew from 25 million to 1.4 billion. The turn of the century marked a global shift in tourism caused by the mainstreaming of Western backpacking culture and the realization of U.S. travelers that they could fund lavish stays in 鈥渆xotic鈥� developing countries on the cheap. Poor regions became in-demand tourist destinations.

The truth is that travel isn鈥檛 鈥渇atal to prejudice,鈥� but tourism鈥攁nd its not-so-distant ancestor colonization鈥攃an often be fatal to culture. Wielding this privilege only afforded to a minority to prop ourselves up as global citizens of a superior republic kind of defeats the purpose.

It鈥檚 time to retire the narrow implications of the Twain quote and pivot from a politically neutral consideration of travel to a systemic understanding of tourism and travel culture through a lens of social justice. If we center host cultures and follow their leads in how to鈥攁nd how not to鈥攅ngage with their lands as guests, if we complicate the idea of who travels and why and truthfully map the colonial legacy of the travel genre, we just may be able to tap into travel鈥檚 storied revolutionary potential.

Not-so-innocent abroad

鈥淭ourists flock to my Native land for escape, but they are escaping into a state of mind while participating in the destruction of a host people in a Native place.鈥� 鈥擧aunani-Kay Trask, essay 鈥淟ovely Hula Lands鈥�

The impression that travel is an inherently enlightening experience that can lead to a greater good is evident in tourism where travelers participate in volunteer work鈥斺�渧oluntourism,鈥� eco-travel, sustainable/ethical travel, and spiritual tourist cultures. The market for traveling supposedly to help disenfranchised communities in the Global South is booming,  for what constitutes 鈥渉elp鈥� or who actually benefits from it.

While it鈥檚 possible that effective work is being done in these spaces, most initiatives are grounded in ideas of the White savior industrial complex, the concept that Black, Indigenous, and other people of color need to be saved by White folks who know better. In this way, even goodwill manifestations of tourism are still mired in layers of harm.

Consider the recent trend of 鈥渃onscientious鈥� cruising, in which companies such as Carnival Cruise Line and Crystal Cruises offer extended programming presumably to aid local communities. Passengers can choose to teach English to Dominican kids for a day or help lay bricks for school buildings. These activities go far to assuage the guilt of privilege and tug at the heartstrings and pocketbooks of charitable-minded tourists, but good intentions do not compensate for the overwhelming harm that the cruise industry causes. Cruises are an all-inclusive experience that attract travelers looking for deals and ease, but they are  shred coastlines and reefs, and . Just a few hours during a day stop at a port of entry is an insufficient amount of time to benefit the lives of Jamaican orphans.

This gets to the heart of what鈥檚 wrong with voluntourism, and even tourism economies in general: They are intended for the benefit of the tourist, not centered on the needs of underprivileged destination communities. The day-to-day realities of these places will not be radically changed by token donations from multinational cruise ship corporations. And when they do have an impact, they tend to recreate a dependency on a foreign power and thwart progress toward self-determination. Who needs decolonization when a rotating class of White college kids can teach English in your village?

Few travelers seek out and center host cultures, voices, and struggles as part of their travel plans. The chasm of inequality between visitor and visited makes a truly fair exchange between them difficult to measure and nearly impossible to attain. No one-size-fits-all exchange鈥攕ervice rendered, money paid鈥攃an balance this power dynamic. But we can strive for an understanding that host communities鈥攅specially those that include Black and Indigenous people鈥攕hould be in charge of how they want their cultures, economies, and environments engaged with.

What does a more balanced exchange look like? Native notions of hospitality are driving new tourism frameworks, as K膩naka Maoli (Native Hawaiians) are doing in Hawai鈥榠. Solidarity delegations like those  are choosing who they鈥檇 like to open their doors to for mutual benefit. Voluntourism can work when specific expertise is requested by a host community, such as technology or medical help in a crisis.

With colonial mindsets lulling us into guilt-free, do-good travel, and Airbnb tourist dollars elbowing out residents of major travel destinations, are there equitable ways to engage in an industry that thrives off inequality? Well, there are a few rules of thumb.

All-inclusive

鈥淧eople of color are the most traveled people on the planet; every time we leave our houses, we travel.鈥� 鈥擣aith Adiele, June 2017

If you鈥檙e a social justice-minded visitor, think less about deals while traveling and more about what to avoid, starting with all-inclusive resorts. Here鈥檚 why:

Of travelers鈥� expenditures spent on all-inclusive package tours as a whole, , and other international companies whose headquarters are located in the Global North, and not to local businesses, estimates the United Nations Environment Programme. In a tourism-dependent country like Thailand, 70 percent of all money spent by tourists leaves the country, and that figure is 80 percent for the Caribbean, perhaps the all-inclusive capital of the world. Avoid cruises鈥攖he waterborne version of the all-inclusive resort鈥攂ecause they also .

Stay in hotels owned by locals. Eat in restaurants owned by locals. Shop at stores owned by locals.

Some do鈥檚 and don鈥檛s require self-awareness: Practices like excessive haggling, refusing to adapt to local customary dress, taking pictures of people without their consent, or not bothering to learn the local language all signal that you lack empathy regarding your power and privilege abroad.

These are adjustments that individuals can make to ameliorate the direct harm that mass tourism causes. But what can be done about the biggest problem of travel culture: lack of inclusion?

鈥淣o鈥� is a word that guests need to get more comfortable with.

To say that travel media has a race issue would be a meta-joke; travel media is a race issue. Not only are the editors of the magazines, the travel show hosts, the commercials, brochures, blogs, YouTubers, and Instagram accounts overwhelmingly White, they too-often depict White folks self-actualizing in lands colonized by their settler ancestors. And if they are depicted hugging Black kids, the caption will definitely quote Mark Twain.

It鈥檚 true that most BIPOC, disabled people, LGBTQIA+ people, and lower-income folks contend with barriers that keep them from enjoying leisure travel as much as wealthy White people do, but to purport they鈥檙e not doing it at all is erasure. A survey conducted by  concluded that  in 2018, for example.

As a queer Latinx kid from Brooklyn who left home as a teen to hitchhike around the continent and later chose to write about travel, I found belonging in the excursions of Langston Hughes in I Wonder as I Wander, jumping into the backseat as he drove through Havana in 1931. I found it in bell hooks鈥� Belonging: A Culture of Place, running alongside her over Kentucky hills decades before I was born, and in coughing up exhaust with Andrew X. Pham as he biked along the roads of Vietnam in Catfish and Mandala in the 1990s. As Faith Adiele, author of Meeting Faith: The Forest Journals of a Black Buddhist Nun, often says, no one travels more than people of color. Whether for work, or through displacement, or through forced migration, BIPOC must go the distance to navigate a global White supremacist culture, often without even having to leave our countries. Read them.

In response to travel鈥檚 race gap and thanks to social media, people of color, specifically Black women, are creating their own lanes.

Founded by Dash Harris Machado in 2010, AfroLatino Travel connects people across the African diaspora to places the travel guides usually tell us to avoid, inspiring a variety of similar brands in its wake. Evie Robinson and Zim Ugochukwu started their businesses on social networks in the past decade (Nomadness Travel Tribe and Travel Noire, respectively), spawning what has since been dubbed the New Black Travel Movement, and Noirbnb was started after too many alarming #AirbnbingWhileBlack stories went viral.

Decolonizing Travel

鈥淔or even if history is most often recounted by victors, it鈥檚 not always easy to tell who the rightful narrators should be, unless we keep redefining with each page what it means to conquer and be conquered.鈥� 鈥擡dwidge Danticat, Create Dangerously

Critical analyses that offer solutions to the ills of mass tourism seem to be propagating in disparate spaces, from Anu Taranath鈥檚 Beyond Guilt Trips: Mindful Travel in an Unequal World to A People鈥檚 Guide to Los Angeles by Laura Pulido, Laura Barraclough, and Wendy Cheng to Detours: A Decolonial Travel Guide to Hawai鈥榠, edited by Vernadette Vicu帽a Gonzalez and H艒k奴lani Aikau.

Rather than telling tourists where to go, Detours tells them how to act. For one, 鈥渘o鈥� is a word that guests need to get more comfortable with.

Detours was inspired by A People鈥檚 Guide to Los Angeles, which seeks to 鈥渦ncover the rich and vibrant stories of political struggle, oppression, and resistance in the everyday landscapes of major cities,鈥� according to its summary. Detours writers met with the People鈥檚 Guide writers, and 鈥渨e all agreed that our project is slightly different,鈥� Aikau told me in an email. 鈥淭heir project is about unearthing alternative, radical stories of places, and the conventions of the travel guide genre support their aims. Our project is about decolonization, not touring鈥攅ven if differently and more radically.鈥�

Out this November from Duke University Press, Detours flips the traditional Hawai鈥榠 travel guide narrative by reclaiming tourism using an Indigenous perspective. 鈥淭he essays, stories, artworks, maps, and tour itineraries in Detours create decolonial narratives in ways that will forever change how readers think about and move throughout Hawai鈥榠,鈥� the book鈥檚 summary promises.

Aikau said Detours 鈥渋s more than just critique鈥攊t is also a series of instructions for how to contribute to decolonization.鈥� She continued, 鈥淲e make the case that Detours is not just a redirection; it is a redirection with a very specific purpose鈥攖he restoration of ea,鈥� referring to the concept of the breath and sovereignty of the Hawaiian nation, land, and its people.

Included in the guide is a section of specific tours created by local scholars and activists, from a decolonial tour of downtown Honolulu to an environmental justice bus tour of Lualualei Valley and its naval facilities. The book actually borrows its title from one of these. Hawai鈥榠鈥檚 DeTour guides Kyle Kajihiro and Terri Keko鈥榦lani lead visitors to often-overlooked sites of U.S. military occupation on the island of O驶ahu, educating them on the disturbing link between settler colonialism and tourism in the Pacific. Taking part in one of these tours  to become a demilitarization activist. She ended up creating a critical walking tour of the rapidly gentrifying Kaka鈥榓ko neighborhood for the Detours guidebook.

鈥淭he U.S. military occupies about a quarter of the landmass of both Okinawa Island and O驶ahu, and our Indigenous communities pay the price for this,鈥� said Grandinetti, who grew up on O驶ahu in the shadow of the Schofield Barracks Army base near the small town of Wahiaw膩.

鈥淚 grew up feeling a lot of anger and resentment toward the U.S. military, but it felt hard to communicate those feelings in a productive way. The DeTour showed me how the everyday violence of militarism can be made visible, and taught me that there are so many ways we can work to challenge it.鈥� The average tourist who is unaware of K膩naka resistance or perspectives on the mass tourist presence on their land could receive a real education by taking part in a DeTour.

鈥淓very time I went on base as a kid,鈥� Grandinetti continued, 鈥淚 felt like I was entering a world where I didn鈥檛 belong: a hypermilitarized, Americanized, White space. [DeTour] showed me that we can reclaim spaces for community even as they remain under occupation.鈥�

Traveling and taking part in these real-time tours connects the tourist鈥檚 body to the land鈥檚 history and people in a way that staying at home and reading about it might not. 鈥淚 remember feeling this most strongly when [activist guides Kajihiro and Keko鈥榦lani] took us to a huge sculpted map of O驶ahu. We circled around the map and repeated Pearl Harbor鈥檚 true name over and over again: Ke Awalao o Pu驶uloa. Our voices got louder and more confident each time we repeated it. It was such a powerful moment.鈥�

Tours like these challenge neocolonial conceptions of places as for the taking, instead framing them for the purpose of Native communities鈥� self-determination.

Aikau told me that she and her co-editor hope their book will inspire others to write decolonial guides to their own places. 鈥淲hat are the Indigenous place names where they live? What are the layers of stories that lie beneath concrete, asphalt, and street names? What are the protocols for asking permission to come onto territory in the place where you live?鈥�

Think globally, travel locally

鈥淥nce you commit yourself to a place, you begin to share responsibility for what happens there.鈥� 鈥ㄢ�擲cott Russell Sanders, essay 鈥淟ocal 颅Matters鈥�

It鈥檚 easy to look to marginalized people for the answers to problems they didn鈥檛 create. It鈥檚 harder to look within and to question our own behaviors that enable that marginalization. As a traveler myself and in studying and writing about decolonizing travel culture, I鈥檝e come to understand that the impulse to travel stems from an entitlement that is inextricable from colonialism.

Wanderlust is often a condition of lacking roots. White supremacy has created a crisis of identity for settlers who have little connection to the lands they are on or the communities they are a part of. And for this reason, they are always trying to escape, move on to the next place, consume, and repeat.

I get what Mark Twain was saying鈥擨 do, and to an extent, I agree. Settler colonialism and capitalism tell us to fear our neighbor, to chase excess by laboring in individualism. And when that gets too stressful, to escape 鈥渢o Timbuktu鈥� (as if it鈥檚 not an actual place in Mali). But taking colonial mindsets on the road is what has led to the majority of human suffering on the planet, from slavery to genocide and domination. If modern-day travel culture isn鈥檛 based on the goal of working against these ills, then it is only furthering that agenda. And that is the truth about travel.

So to decolonize travel as we move about the world, we need to dismantle White supremacy at home.

In Belonging, cultural critic bell hooks connects this lack of a relationship with home and race: 鈥淎gain and again as I travel around I am stunned by how many citizens in our nation feel lost, feel bereft of a sense of direction, feel as though they cannot see where our journeys lead, that they cannot know where they are going.鈥� What she calls 鈥渁 wilderness of spirit鈥� can be linked to much of the White supremacist terrorism that only seems to be on the rise. 鈥淢any folks feel no sense of place.鈥�

Scott Russell Sanders has echoed this in much of his writing, most notably in Staying Put: Making a Home in a Restless World: 鈥淢y nation鈥檚 history does not encourage me, or anyone, to belong somewhere with a full heart. A vagabond wind has been blowing here for a long while. 鈥� I feel the force of it.鈥� The lure of tourism to leave it all and disappear, as it were, seems to be strongest in the people with the most power. Looking at the consequences of mass tourism, we can conclude that the opposite of Twain鈥檚 remarks may be true鈥攖hat 鈥渧egetating in one鈥檚 corner of the globe鈥� may be what we need more of. As Sanders concludes, 鈥淚 wish to consider the virtue and discipline of staying put.鈥�

I always find it fascinating that so many international U.S. travelers are so unacquainted with the states in their country, or even neighboring districts, or, for that matter, their actual neighbors. Segregation seems to see no end in our nation鈥檚 story. These travelers would rather help build schools for kids in Africa than let their kids attend schools with Black kids in Brooklyn. The adage 鈥測ou don鈥檛 know where you鈥檙e going until you know where you come from鈥� can apply to our nation鈥檚 memory as a whole.

Perhaps we need to think about home and belonging more intentionally and invest in our local communities to recognize our important roles in them鈥攂efore we plan our next big vacation. Escape is easy. Long-term commitment takes care and work. Many of the people shouldering that responsibility are the ones who can鈥檛 escape, and they deserve a break, too.

With a combination of staying put, learning our histories, and getting to know our neighbors, we can become better global neighbors鈥攁nd then better global guests.

Decolonization is both the journey and the destination. And to Mark Twain: All of our people need it sorely on these accounts.