The Utter Nonsense
I Can Read Condé Nast Traveler Too
In my attempt to build bridges and understand all people, my family has traveled all over the world, never going to the same place twice. Our travels have shaped our lives in so many ways. We’ve grown after every adventure, forming new contacts and friends, and stretching ourselves in the constant pursuit to evolve.
Nine years ago, we were vacationing in Anguilla, a British overseas territory in the Caribbean. We were staying at the newest five-star resort, the Viceroy Anguilla, now a Four Seasons Resort and Residence. The resort is set along the northern coast of the island and positioned on one of the most beautiful beaches in Anguilla; almost every room has an ocean view. The luxury resort has modern architectural forms mixed with elements of the natural environment. It was not even a year old when we visited. One night during our stay — while eating dinner at the hotel’s restaurant — a white man at the table next to us struck up a conversation.
“This is a really nice resort, isn’t it?”
We acknowledged this with him and returned to our dinner. The man was a complete stranger, sitting with his family, noticeably watching my family’s every move. We were used to white people watching us, so we were unphased. I rarely see Black families in the places we’ve traveled to. People look at us like they’ve never seen Black people before. This family in particular worked hard to disguise their stares. Suddenly, the father squared his shoulders and looked directly at my husband. He had a question.
“How did you all find this place?”
My husband normally takes the lead in situations like this. I already knew his polite answer. He usually says something about me being an information hog, always looking for the best new places to visit before it becomes too popular, and researching places that fit our personalities. The white man had more questions after my husband’s response — the conversation continued. So, I sat quietly thinking about this question, “How did you all find this place?” It’s one I’ve heard many times before.
What do you mean, “How did we find this place?” How did you? And, why is that relevant so early in our exchange? Are you surprised we know about this place? Wait, what is that music I hear in the background? Is that rap? I saw an African dashiki in the gift store and we had boiled fish at dinner. We are in the Caribbean. There are a lot of Black people here and he’s asking US that question.
“What do you do? Are you an athlete?” the white man eventually asked.
My husband laughs and tells the man that everyone thinks he’s an athlete, that he used to play college basketball, but he had more smarts than game and now he’s a financial executive. My thoughts drift to a familiar place. How often white people assume we are celebrities or athletes? He’s thinking we have to be famous to be able to afford this vacation.
I told this story and similar ones to a white friend. She said I should’ve responded to the question, “How did you find this place?” more directly; “Condé Nast Traveler just like you, motherf**er, I can read.”
I laughed. I couldn’t really say that to this family. Showing animosity towards those strangers would be pointless; I would most likely never see them again. I didn’t want to ruin the mood. We were enjoying quality time with our family, savoring great food and wine, and appreciating our evening in the islands.
The white man’s interest in how we found the resort, I believe, stems from racial stereotypes or Black representation in the media. Black people, and especially Black Americans, are often shown in unflattering ways. Positive images of Black Americans are seen primarily through sports figures, celebrities, musicians, and politicians. There are not enough images of the Black middle and upper class communities living regular lives, having regular jobs, or doing normal activities like the majority of society. This leaves many white people grossly ill-informed about Black habits and interests, which are not foreign to their own. White people often see the extremes: poor Black people and famous Black celebrities.
When my family and I travel internationally, locals assume we must be public figures; this is the black and white image our country projects. While visiting Mykonos, Greece six years ago, people thought I was Michelle Obama. A shop owner even took my picture. I don’t look like Michelle Obama, but I understand how our essences may appear similar. I’m flattered and annoyed; the identification is wrong. It’s a form of micro-aggression, defined by Merriam-Webster dictionary as, “A comment or action that subtly and often unconsciously or unintentionally expresses a prejudiced attitude toward a member of a marginalized group, such as a racial minority.”
In education, the misconception that Black people are less intelligent or aren’t privy to exclusive, white-dominated environments is another destructive, racial assumption. How did you find this place? I saw it featured in the Town and Country magazine travel section which has been delivered to my house monthly for over twenty years. I read about it on the websites of Travel and Leisure magazine and Condé Nast Traveler too. I did my analysis; three features in notable travel magazines confirmed the resort as a good option. I researched more before making a decision: looking for reviews, blogs, and other important details about it. I explored the hotel’s website and called them directly to test their customer service. I keep notes on my computer and iPhone about my travel research. I’ve learned a lot about the world doing travel planning for myself. We’ve never been disappointed in our travel choices. Family and friends often call us when they are making vacation plans of their own. Toni Morrison, the Nobel laureate in literature, said, “The function [of racism] is distraction. It keeps you explaining, over and over again, your reason for being.” It’s exhausting. The explaining never ends.
The wealth gap in America is growing and another reason for the biases my family faces when we travel. According to Katherine Schaeffer, from the Pew Research Center, “The black-white income gap in the U.S. has persisted over time. The difference in median household incomes between white and black Americans has grown from about $23,800 in 1970 to roughly $33,000 in 2018 (as measured in 2018 dollars). Median black household income was 61% of the median white household income in 2018, up modestly from 56% in 1970 — but down slightly from 63% in 2007, before the Great Recession.” Well-informed and educated Americans understand the economic disparity and draw conclusions about what Black people can afford. Luxury vacations are cost prohibitive for most people no matter the race. How can a Black family afford it?
I have family in the Caribbean. I’ve traveled the islands a lot; it’s familiar and filled with my culture. When visiting my Caribbean family, I often compliment our travels with side trips to somewhere new. The resort felt comfortable. The Black music in the background of our dinner, the local crafts sold in the hotel store, and the bold flavors of the cuisine are all reminiscent of my home, my family, my culture, and my people. The white man’s question is out of line. The more appropriate question should be directed at him, “How did YOU find this place?”
References:
Katherine Schaeffer, “6 Facts About Economic Inequality in the US,” Pew Research, February 7, 2020, https://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2020/02/07/6-facts-about-economic-inequality-in-the-u-s/
Merriam-Webster Dictionary, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/microaggression
