‘Suddenly, my passport felt a lot less powerful’: A writer who fell in love with another woman while travelling wonders if the world is actually becoming more welcoming for LGBTQ+ travellers – Toronto Star

It’s after midnight. My eyes burn from exhaustion, but when I spot the glowing lights of Moscow’s Red Square, I start to feel the familiar buzz of being in a new destination. That’s when my cab driver utters the five words female travellers dread most:

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

I’ve been asked this question countless times in countless countries. I should be able to answer it without thinking. Regardless of the truth, the answer is always “yes.”

But this time, when the lie slips out, it holds a different weight. That’s because for the first time, I don’t have a boyfriend — I have a girlfriend. This is my first international trip as a queer woman, and I’ve just arrived in Russia, ranked 46 out of 49 European countries for LGBTQ rights (or lack thereof) by ILGA-Europe (the International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans and Intersex Association).

I’d long believed the Mark Twain quote that “travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” I’d also always taken my ability to travel freely for granted. By 30, I’d already explored more than 30 countries. Planning a holiday with male partners was a matter of throwing a dart at a map, booking a ticket, then carelessly strolling through the streets of whatever foreign city, hand in hand.

That all changed at 33, when I fell in love with a woman while travelling in Australia. With homosexual activity illegal in over 70 countries worldwide, suddenly my passport felt a lot less powerful. Gone, too, was my fantasy about a romantic holiday to Egypt, ranked by the 2021 LGBTQ+ Travel Safety Index as one of the most dangerous destinations for queer travellers. My sense of privilege had shifted, although I’m conscious that my identity as a white, middle-class Canadian still makes it relatively easy for me to explore the world.

My experience isn’t unique. Sara Weber, who has worked in the travel industry for more than 20 years, was in Thailand when she fell in love with a woman for the first time.

“I didn’t know if you could kiss someone of the same sex in Thailand, or if it was safe to get into a taxi together,” she recalls. But it wasn’t until a work trip to South Africa that she realized what it means to travel as a bisexual woman. “It was my first experience feeling unsafe and being like, ‘Whoa, I have been so privileged to travel my whole life as just a single white female,’” she says.

For those of us new to the LGBTQ community, we’re learning that the discrimination queer people experience can be amplified by travel. Ordinary interactions, from catching an Uber to checking in at a hotel, may require us to out ourselves. These challenges are only more complex for nonbinary and transgender individuals, who have their own unique concerns, such as getting through airport security or navigating cultures where traditional gender norms are deeply ingrained. That doesn’t even touch on the disproportionate likelihood they’ll encounter violence on holiday.

But we’re also learning that the gay travel map is expanding, with improved LGBTQ visibility and social change in an increasing number of countries. Homosexuality was recently decriminalized in Bhutan and India; gay marriage was made legal in Taiwan, Costa Rica and Northern Ireland; and a handful of countries, including Canada, have introduced gender-neutral passports. With a growing number of tour operators and destinations explicitly positioning themselves as LGBTQ-friendly, the world feels more open today than even a decade or so ago.

“In 1983 when IGLTA [the International LGBTQ+ Travel Association] was founded, it was very underground,” says president and CEO John Tanzella. “Now, we have staff in seven countries and business members in 82 countries.” In a 2021 survey of more than 6,000 people, IGLTA found that LGBTQ travellers will be among the most likely travellers to book a trip post-pandemic, with 73 per cent of respondents planning to take a major vacation this year.

The travel industry has made efforts to be more inclusive to LGBTQ travellers, too. When I checked in to the SO/ Auckland with my partner last year, I was thrilled to discover “hers” and “hers” robes and toiletries in our room. These small changes are driven by institutional changes from within, including improved workplace inclusion and diversity policies. In 2021, for instance, Marriott International was ranked among the top employers in America for LGBTQ equality, as rated by the Human Rights Campaign Foundation’s Corporate Equality Index.

The shift is also being reflected in travel marketing. Take, for example, booking site Orbitz’s new “Travel As You Are” campaign and its corresponding microsite, featuring nonbinary, lesbian and Black gay travellers.

But even with the travel industry working to create safer, more welcoming environments, this doesn’t eliminate the challenge of trying to abide by cultural norms in conservative countries. Nor does it answer the question of whether you should be spending your money in destinations with poor human rights records.

IGLTA, for one, doesn’t condone boycotting destinations. “We support a lot of places that are really challenging for LGBT people, such as businesses in Jamaica and Egypt,” says Tanzella. “The local LGBT community wants us to come and support them and be visible. It doesn’t mean wearing rainbow clothes, but it is about building bridges and helping [other people] understand different ways of living.”

Robert Sharp, owner of Out Adventures, a Toronto-based LGBTQ tour company that travels to destinations including Morocco, Zambia and Jordan, agrees. He says that meeting locals in the middle, such as by dressing according to cultural norms, often results in what he calls accidental activism. “Just by being respectful of the local people, we’re able to create dialogue,” he says.

Travelling to countries where homosexuality remains taboo can be an act of social justice that supports LGBTQ people abroad. And travel can be central to the experience of coming out: Those who grew up closeted in isolated, rural areas had to travel to cities or abroad to find their communities. Copenhagen is currently preparing to host this summer’s WorldPride, which drew an estimated 5 million people to New York City in 2019. And for some people (like myself), travel has allowed us to discover parts of our identity that we didn’t even know existed.

For Weber, she says her experience has changed how she plans to travel post-pandemic. “I want to connect with people in the LGBTQ+ community,” she says. “Sharing stories is such a valuable part of travel, and in the LGBTQ+ community, everybody has a story.”

Twain’s idealistic view wasn’t entirely wrong. Travel may not be fatal to prejudice — but it may help create understanding, both of ourselves and of others.

The Star understands the restrictions on travel during the coronavirus pandemic. But like you, we dream of travelling again, and we’re publishing this story with future trips in mind.

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