Travelling alone as a woman requires courage
'And then I heard: 'Where's your husband? Isn't he going with you today?'', writes Letícia Naísa
Being a nomad often means being alone in strange places. Safety is, therefore, an essential factor to consider. Many times, I wouldn't do some things I do if I were a woman, like walking alone at night —in Brazil, I don't do even as a man.
Recently, a friend went on vacation alone and had some bad experiences. I invited her to write for this week's edition.
By Letícia Naisa
I remember the feeling of traveling alone for the first time. It was a business trip and would last only two days, but the sense of freedom that engulfed me was unprecedented. I was 22 years old.
After that trip, my dream was to take a vacation and travel alone again. It took a while, but it happened on my last trip to João Pessoa, Paraíba. I spent four days alone in a completely new city for me.
It's common for people to look curiously at those who travel alone. I am a very communicative person and enjoy talking, so I always end up meeting someone. In João Pessoa, a couple from Brasília accompanied me in a concert by Alceu Valença with the Ouro Preto orchestra. It was beautiful.
I enjoy going out and having fun with these new people, who, in general, are receptive to the idea of me traveling alone. They consider what I do "brave." Indeed, it takes courage not only to face the loneliness and the butterflies in the stomach of arriving in a new place, as happens to everyone who travels, but also to confront men who believe that women shouldn't have the right to travel alone.
I don't know if you, readers, are aware, but people who dine alone gain a superpower when they sit at the table: they become invisible. If you're a woman, a man will probably ask if you're waiting for your boyfriend or husband. After this embarrassment, they might take longer to serve you, but it's part of the experience. This kind of questioning has become so normalized that I lost count of how many times I've heard it.
But on this last trip, it infuriated me to the point of ruining part of my day. I was at the reception of the building where I was staying, an Airbnb, waiting for a ride to a more remote beach. With a hat and a small backpack, in the style of Dora the Explorer, I said good morning to the doorman. And then I heard: "Where's your husband? Isn't he going with you today?". In the heat of the moment, I awkwardly replied that my boyfriend was working and that I was traveling alone. I regretted it about ten seconds later, imagining that this man might try to enter the apartment to do something to me. I tried to fix it by saying I would leave the next day to meet "my man."
The episode ruined my day. I went to the beach afraid of returning and finding the doorman waiting for me inside the apartment. It was my third day of the trip. I relaxed a bit the next day when another doorman was on duty.
On my penultimate day in the city, a woman (yes) asked me if I had a boyfriend. We were on a sunset cruise with jazz music on a boat, a classic stop in João Pessoa. I honestly answered yes, that I had a boyfriend in São Paulo. Then came the question: "Does he allow you to travel alone?"
I was a mix of irritation and compassion, because maybe that woman was asking that question because she had never had a boyfriend who "allowed" her to travel alone. For a long time, I also had boyfriends who didn't "allow" me to travel alone.
Even today, there are things I don't let myself do alone because of fear (of men). I didn't have the courage, in João Pessoa, to take a boat alone on the beach for a ride; I preferred to pay more for a travel agency with a group of people because I feared for my safety. I didn't take public transportation or walk as much as I would have liked. I spent more than planned on ride-sharing because I was afraid of being robbed - or worse, raped.
On my first day of the trip, I was walking on the beach promenade. A few people were jogging, and some groups and couples were strolling. I took out my phone to check Google Maps and locate myself. A boy on a bike passed by and tried to take my phone - he couldn't because it was strapped to my body like a bag. Probably, the bike thief thought I was an easy target: a woman alone and lost on the beach promenade. Would a man have suffered the same? I can't say.
Being able to travel as a solo woman requires a bit more courage. A woman alone moving freely through the world bothers most men. It's a shame, because we're not going to stop here.
Do you have a story about travelling alone?