Putting It All Together in Medellín
“As a Black solo traveler turned travel writer, I’ve learned that travel as escapism is dangerous in its naiveté”
As a Black woman, I know what it feels like to be tired. Back in March of this year, when I was more tired than usual, I decided to take a trip.
Now, as a Black solo traveler turned travel writer, I’ve learned that travel as escapism is dangerous in its naiveté. Anti-Blackness can be found in any corner of the globe. There is no refuge from it. And just as I know what it means to be tired, I know that traveling can sometimes open you up to even more weariness. Traveling while Black means stares lingering past the point of comfort, being followed while shopping in a store, racist jokes about my afro while dining at restaurants. Those are just three examples. I’ve buried many more deep in my psyche so as not to be perpetually seething with rage.
But as the doldrums of winter neared their end and the first signs of spring appeared, I decided it was okay to want a break. I booked a one-way ticket to Medellín, Colombia. The city is still known for its history of drug-related violence…
