Is Travelling a Sign of Privilege?
“Fill your life with experiences, not things. Have stories to tell, not stuff to show” commands today’s mantra as I log onto Instagram.
At first glance this all sounds very inspirational. After all, studies have shown that people who spend their money on experiences, rather than material possessions, are happier and more satisfied with their lives. Right?
But what if you don’t have the money to swap out ‘stuff’ for ‘experiences’ in the first place?
We live in the age of the Instagram traveller. They have a perfectly curated feed, have most definitely travelled to Cambodia, Thailand and Bali, and often [if they’ve done said travelling in their gap year] come to university laden with experiences from their ‘crazy’ overseas adventures.
They also claim, of course, that money from mummy and daddy had nothing to do with it.
And maybe it didn’t. Maybe they worked and saved and stayed at budget hostels and secured the cheapest flights possible.
But undeniably, privilege still plays a very real part in being able to travel, particularly to far-flung destinations such as Bali or Vietnam. With the average gap-year abroad costing £22,137 , it isn’t something the average person can afford. According to a 2020 study from Teaching Abroad, one in five young people in the UK rely on ‘the bank of mum and dad’ to fund their gap year. Even if you work and save for six months, this assumes you can stay at home without paying rent or bills, or that you are earning enough to have a disposable income (an unlikely situation for most people who have just left school).
Actor Matt Lacey’s viral YouTube video, ‘Gap Yah’, is a spoof on the typical gap-year traveller. He told the Guardian of the sketch: “It’s a satire on the great number of people who seem to be leaving these shores to vomit all over the developing world.”
Yet privilege isn’t just inherent in the ‘gap-year’. How many blogs have you seen titled: “How I quit my job and travelled the world”? Unless you’ve just won the lottery, it’s not that easy for most of us.
Erin Hynes, author of ‘Pina Travels’ admits in one blog post that she had never contemplated her privilege before being questioned by a local in Myanmar: “I worked hard for my education – balancing multiple jobs and taking out student loans to make it possible. But there is privilege in that alone. I had access to employment opportunities and access to student loans. Throughout my education I had a family that supported me, sometimes financially, and often emotionally.”
Even as I’m writing this, I can hear that little voice in my head saying: so, what? Why should it matter that people are privileged enough to travel? Should they miss out on experiences that they could be having for the sole purpose of not coming across privileged?
Of course not.
The problem arises when this privilege is not acknowledged, or when people are made to feel lesser on account of their lack of travel experience.
There is a certain tone that often accompanies the question: “Oh, you’ve never been abroad?” or, “do you just want to stay in your hometown forever then?” A tone that catapults you into a spiral of feelings of inadequacy and comparing yourself to those more privileged than you.
There is also a lack of self-awareness that accompanies statements like: “I just worked hard and saved up”. It completely misses the fact that being able to ‘save up’ is a privilege in and of itself. The underbelly of that statement shames people into feeling like they simply do not work hard enough; they not resourceful enough, not driven enough, or lack ‘wanderlust’, something that so many of the Instagram-travellers seem to possess.
Maybe wanderlust itself only exists in those who have already been lucky enough to catch ‘the travel bug’. How many of these people have grown up being taken on family holidays halfway across the world, or have afforded to go on school trips to New York, whilst their peers were left at home, missing out on these experiences? Perhaps people only have travel on their agenda when they know that they possess the financial means to do so.
Privilege doesn’t just stop at money, either. What kind of passport you possess, whether you are able-bodied, whether you are cis-gendered or heteronormative, and whether you belong to a certain race or religion, are all factors in determining whether your travels will be smooth-sailing or full of barriers to overcome.
Owning a UK passport, for example, means that you can access 186 countries without a visa. Swap a UK passport for a Turkish one, and that number dramatically drops to 72.
Being able-bodied means that you can skip through multiple barriers that others may have to contend with. For example: worrying about whether countries will be accommodating to your needs; whether hotels will have accessibility measures in place; whether you can fly or access healthcare if you become stranded in a different country.
61 countries still have strict laws criminalising homosexuality, and in many more countries homosexuality is shunned. Would you travel with your partner if you weren’t able to hold hands with them on the street? Would you enjoy your travels if you were worried to be seen merely exchanging a second-too-long glance in fear of being abused?
These are all very real concerns for people that often slip our consciousness. So, next time you go to post, “travel is never a matter of money but of courage” on your Instagram feed, ask yourself if that statement is helpful or useful. You may find it’s simply fuelling shame in those who lack the privilege – not courage – needed for travel.
Written by Alice Williamson
Alice is a 21-year-old student journalist living in Bristol. Having graduated from UEA with a first class honours degree in International Development, she is now studying part-time for her postgrad diploma in journalism. Her particular writing interests include music and socio-environmental issues.
