We are all of us, to some degree or another, brainwashed by the society we live in. We are able to see this when we travel to another country, and are able to catch a glimpse of our own country with foreign eyes…the best we can hope for is that a kindly friend from another culture will enable us to look at our culture with dispassionate eyes.
― Doris Lessing, Prisons We Choose to Live Inside
My journey into the vast, colorful expanse of the world began in childhood as I watched my father return from distant lands, including Iceland, Ghana, China, and Peru, each time adding a red pin to the large world map that decorated a wall in my home.
As a young boy, this ritual, along with our pastime of watching planes take off and land at LAX, nurtured my adventurous spirit and deep curiosity about the world.
My parents fed this sense and at eleven years old, I went on my first homestay exchange program to Japan for eleven days as the only black boy in the group. Travel has since become a conduit for healing, fulfillment, and empowerment, reshaping my sense of self…and in many ways trying to obtain those “dispassionate eyes,” Doris Lessing writes about.
Now, as a Black Bi+ man who has traveled to nearly thirty countries, my view of the world is kaleidoscopically rich, extending far beyond the limitations of daily living in Los Angeles. In many ways, that’s all I know.
Even with my travel experiences, I lose the ability to look at my situation with “dispassionate eyes” and eventually retreat to the daily drama, discourse, and lies about who I am and what I can become before escaping away to access a broader perspective.
Resilience Through Travel and Accessing Queer Joy
Traveling brings a unique set of challenges and triumphs. Traveling while queer also brings its own set of experiences. I must note that I consistently code as a straight “masc” man and have never experienced physical violence regarding my orientation at home or abroad (knock on wood), so my perspective about “traveling while queer” is filtered through my reality and may contradict experiences of men with feminine qualities and characteristics navigating a foreign spaces abroad.
I am writing these words from a quaint café in Seville, Spain. With its Spanish charm, romance, and deep history, Seville sits alongside the calm Guadalquivir River. I am waiting for a guided tour to explore the Cathedral de Seville which boasts the remains of Christopher Columbus.
Over the years, I’ve realized that each new destination I go to is a rehearsal of sorts — a chance to “practice” being me in unfamiliar surroundings. The continuous exposure to new cultures and languages, challenging scenarios, and simply staying hydrated and fed develop a sense of renewal and restoration.
It’s in these moments when I’m navigating the streets, trying to interpret a map, seeking a bar owner to let me use the toilet, or just soaking in the tranquil beauty of a remote location that I find queer joy in its unguarded form.
Yet, while these connections are a source of joy, they also open a window to the realities faced by many LGBTQ individuals in less accepting societies. Conversations with LGBTQ individuals from all over the world remind me of the privileges I take for granted, given that LGBTQ people still face legal penalties or harsher, particularly in the second leg of my trip to Morocco.
How frequently do I fall into the trap of social media debates while so many others have zero rights, zero voice and visibility, and zero community?
These “dispassionate eyes” are not only tools for peeking into other cultures but also mirrors, reflecting my resilience and position of relative safety in the United States. I don’t intend to diminish the significance of conversations and efforts being made for LGBTQ communities in United States.
But, it makes me wonder if we have lost focus on the root issues and the value of gratitude in fostering queer joy. Understanding these contextual differences has not only deepened my appreciation for the freedoms I enjoy at home but also fueled a commitment to use my travels and talents as platforms for advocacy and solidarity on a global scale.
A lot of my experience of being bisexual from the United States has made me vigilant in assessing situations for my personal, mostly emotional and mental, safety. And while this is not fair and unjust in the context of my life, I have mastered, like many bi+ folks, the ability to chameleonize. And if anyone knows how to survive in a monosexual world, it’s a bi+ person!
There are many options at my disposal that are not afforded to my LGBTQ sisters and brothers elsewhere. Traveling puts our resilience and our ability to survive into the physical world. Travel practicalizes our sense of inner strength.
Stepping off the plane into a different language, awkwardly conversing with strangers through Google translate, knowing when to ask for help, and high levels of uncertainty mirror the journey of understanding and embracing one’s identity. It’s rehearsal. And critical reminders that the world is more significant than our immediate troubles; in fact, it’s profoundly larger, and our experiences are just one string of a vast, interconnected web. Storms in tea cups.
Empowerment in Real Life
I was tested during a seemingly routine train journey from Madrid to Seville. I booked the train ticket a day before my departure, and anticipating potential issues accessing WiFi, I took a screenshot of the website confirmation page, which usually adds an extra layer of security. However, when I arrived at the station an hour early, I discovered that the ticket kiosk wouldn’t accept the confirmation code from the website I used. I hit another block at the customer service desk — they needed a code from my email confirmation, not the website confirmation.
Complicating matters further, I had recently exceeded my email storage limit, losing the ability to receive or send emails. This meant the essential email confirmation was trapped in an inaccessible inbox. Without WiFi at the station, my options dwindled rapidly. In a decision that cost both time and money, I switched my phone to roam to regain access to my email and quickly try to pay for more storage — only to find that I was too late. The train departed without me, and all subsequent trains (for the rest of the day) were fully booked.
Faced with this cascade of challenges, I bore the financial loss of the train ticket, the booked accommodation in Seville, an unplanned additional night in Madrid, and the unplanned bus fare to Seville the next day. Beyond the immediate financial impact, the situation forced me to confront a critical question: How will I move forward when no one else is responsible for my predicament?
At that moment, faced with a seemingly impossible flurry of logistical nightmares, I had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here I was, a seasoned traveler, totally undone by the digital equivalent of losing one’s luggage. While the train to Seville sped away without me, I stood calculating the cost of my oversight — not just in Euros but also in missed Sevillian tapas.
With no cavalry coming to save me, I had no choice but to move forward. Was I disappointed? Yes. Mostly at Google’s decision to give me only 15 GB of storage and shut down my email after exceeding that, but who could I blame as I stood in the middle of Spain?!
This mishap didn’t just test my resolve; it gave me a crash course in improvisation, turning a comedy of errors into yet another lesson. Screenshots and charged batteries are great, but make sure your email works in case the code on the confirmation page differs from the code in the email confirmation! Whew.
Navigating the Borders of Identity: A Bi Perspective
My journey through the world from Japan to Fiji to South Korea, United Arab Emirates, Guatemala and more mirrors my internal journey across the borders of identity. The bartering. The blending. The becoming.
The context is different, but the energy is the same.
Each destination teaches me about perseverance and reinforces my ability to adapt, and even as I find myself aging out of the hostel scene, where many young travels boast their capacity for physical discomfort, I see the beauty in constructing a life that refuses to be confined by conventional boundaries and invisible requirements.
Traveling permits me to step beyond geographical borders, just as being bi requires me to transcend societal binaries, providing a framework for crafting a way of being that may not align with well-trodden paths but is deeply authentic.
As a bi man, I inhabit a finite space on the border between heteronormativity and homonormativity, where the expectations and norms of both worlds blur and converge. This ‘borderland’ is not merely a place of conflict or confusion but a terrain rich with unique perspectives and possibilities.
It’s perhaps akin to the Golden Triangle, where Laos, Thailand, and Myanmar converge into one point. The Golden Triangle maintains its distinct flow and significance for those who call it home and for passersby.
Here, in the ‘borderland’ between straight and gay identities and experiences, I have a similar sentiment of ‘my place’ and what it means to live at my place on the “map” as a bi man. A place that is distinct and intertwined. The ‘borderland’ is an emotional experience laden with both the burden and advantage of awareness.
This position is akin to those residing on actual geopolitical borders, who must navigate the complexities of mixed identity, layered culture, and in many ways allegiance to high conflict, war, and a hope for sovereignty.
Living on the border of identities is like living on the edges of nations. Many people pass through, some stay for a night, but so many of us live here. And without peace, war wages.
Addressing Financial Barriers and Expanding Horizons
Stepping over the line takes courage, but erasing it demands a new lens— literally and metaphorically. And do we really want to erase borders? Or do we want to be respected and recognized where we are?
In embracing movement between unknown places, we challenge the limits imposed by society and self-limiting beliefs we can only exist in one place or that there is a singular, unchanging, irrefutable way to exist.
Indeed, international travel requires financial investment, often substantial, which is a barrier. My perspective of “the importance of travel” is derived from a privileged place of interest in foreign worlds and the will and ability to go (and return alive).
But the essence of travel or “movement” — curiosity, openness, preparedness, and improvisation — can be cultivated without ever boarding a plane, train, or a boat. We can mimic the enriching experiences of travel when we engage with diversity within our cities, attend cultural events, or even explore local neighborhoods (better yet, say “hi” to our neighbors!) with intentional eyes and ears. Libraries, the internet, community centers — conversations — where we listen more than speak, offer opportunities into other cultures and perspectives, allowing for a kind of psychological movement that can allow us to rehearse resilience and inspire positive change in our lives.
Even if we are a part of marginalized communities, movement outside of our comfort zone is an assertion of our presence in the world, defying the notion that we only exist in the margins. There will be people from your community who do not like what you want to do or where you want to go. If I believed all the people who said, “That’s not a place black people go!” “That’s not something black people do!” then there wouldn’t be much to Ross.
By exploring new places, new foods, new faces, we not only defy stale beliefs of who we are, but also enrich our souls, proving that our stories and lives matter everywhere, not just in the spaces we’re expected to occupy.
Movement teaches us that the world is not just a place to see but a space to be understood and experienced in all its glory, and you must cross bridges and borders to see it.
As I trace the footprints left by my father and carve out new paths of my own, I hold onto the belief that empowerment, fulfillment, and queer joy (albeit bi joy) come from embracing the internal world and external world in all its complexity, setting boundaries of respect and recognition, sure, but desiring to experience worlds beyond borders, beyond binaries, and certainly in more shades than just black and white or straight and gay. In many ways, the world itself is bisexual, fluid, and whole in all its complexity.
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Previously Published on Medium
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