Preliminary thoughts and preparations for Dakar, Senegal
Notes from Being Home
My journey to Dakar, Senegal is rapidly approaching.. and when I say that, I mean that I'm sitting in Gate G4 in the Minneapolis airport as I write this, waiting to board my flight. I wish I could say that it feels surreal - that I’m overwhelmed with an inexplicable emotion or that I'm deeply reflective about my itinerary or the course syllabus. But the fact is that I don't feel all too different in this moment.
That's not to say that I'm apathetic or unenthused or ungrateful. It's simply that I'm sitting in a gate that I've sat in before, four years ago, when I had the opportunity to travel to Paris during high school. So, I’m not necessarily stunned by the novelty of an international airport. I'm also sitting amongst people who, though they are strangers, are also a familiar population of people: white, English-speaking Midwestern families. Lastly, I’m not too nervous: I adore traveling on my own and have traveled abroad numerous times before. I’m plugged in, on the free WiFi, and very comfortable.
I loathe myself. I am so privileged to be able to write that paragraph.
I am SO privileged to feel comfortable in this gate – to feel familiar with travel, to have had a lifetime of these experiences, to merely type I went to Paris in high school. It is wild how I have grown so accustomed to my privileges – how I’ve been born into the world of world-travel, and how I’ve always taken it for granted by accepting it as normalcy.
My extreme privileges were emphasized over this last week, as I ran into various friends from my hometown. During my short visit home, I repeatedly found myself in beautiful Minnesotan backyards, leaning back in lawn chairs and watching the sun set over birded branches. In these settings, I was inundated with inquiries about my plans for the summer.
“Are you here for the summer? What are you up to, Sierra?” curious parents implored. They would gently grasp my wrist and lean towards me as they asked, as if my future was a sacred secret to be whispered. While gripping my Lime La Croix, I would then straighten my slumped posture, thoughtfully clear my throat, flash a charming grin, and respond “Actually, no. I’ll be studying abroad this summer.”
My answer almost always sparked an exaggerated drop of the jaw, followed with congratulatory smiles and animated commentary on how college students have the coolest lives. Then, naturally, I was asked where I was traveling to. And after a brief pause, with time enough for me to wonder what the parents were expecting to hear, I’d blurt “Senegal. Dakar, Senegal.”
I don’t know what people know about Senegal, or if they have ever heard of it for that matter, but I would interject that Senegal is in West Africa and that Dakar is a large and bustling city. I read the reactions to those statements as responses of relief: as if there was a sudden ease of tension, or as if a burdening question had been answered. I would nod, and anticipate more wonderings. If this was a country that few people are familiar with, wouldn’t there be questions? Wouldn’t there be a limitless number of things to ask about? That’s what I thought. But instead, the conversation would be re-directed towards the general discussion about the value of travel. Instead of discussing the city of Dakar and its people, I found myself engaged in lengthy conversations about former and future travel experiences. And that is when I felt the pressures of travel flexing as extremely as I ever have.
There is glamour surrounding the act of travel flexing. I've watched this form of conversation for years, analyzing it from case-studies on older, college-aged friends and pals who took gap years. It's a subtle art. TF is a skill that requires controlled confidence, relatable excitement, and content that either sparks jealousy or emanates with exotic attraction. TF usually includes a level of nonchalance: a slowly stated sentence, a chill nod of the head, an assurance that you are absolutely NOT bragging. However, TF is a form of boasting: through jealousy-inducing hooks, and strategically planted references to the itinerary.
So, maybe TF is not a known phenomenon or a condition like I describe it. Travel flexing is a term I concocted for the sake of this post. However, this exact form of communication – which revolves around someone’s upcoming international opportunity – creates an entire environment or culture that numbs people of their incredible privilege.
I take this HOT TAKE because I feel it. When I’m featured in a conversation for my study-abroad experience, I often feel like I have to sell my experience to an audience who has heard countless study-abroad stories. I feel like I have to differentiate my narrative from the friends who have taken semesters to travel to London, Copenhagen, Barcelona. I feel like the parents who I talk to expect kids my age to go abroad, and will swear by the benefits of travel, and with non-chalance mention the upcoming international trips they have planned. And I often times feel like my trip will be a trip lost in the sea of places people have heard of, dreamed of, because we are all so focused on what we will gain from the experiences, rather than truly considering the histories, people, and cultures of the places we travel to.
When I’m standing in a Minnesota backyard, flexing over my upcoming opportunity to study abroad, I forget to address the local language of Dakar, which is Wolof. I fail to mention the common religion of the country, which is Islam. I don’t bother to talk about my host family, who live in a house full of English-speaking Senegalese locals, and it completely passes my mind to mention that both my professors are from the country.
In these conversations, I pay little to no attention to the fact that I belong to a well-off social sphere and that I’m frequently surrounded by highly educated and well-traveled people. I forget that the elite environment that I come from is abnormal, and that most people in this world cannot treat these travel opportunities with absolute nonchalance or expectancy. I must remind myself that in these beautiful backyards, we are bound together by the privilege of a private school community and our positionalities. And as we laugh over champagne and share our travel stories, we must not act as if these opportunities were given to us in a deck of cards in our back pockets, and it’s only now that it’s our time to play one of them.
It is when I recognize these privileges, that I question why I am choosing to go to Dakar. I wonder if I am simply playing one of my cards in my back-pocket privilege deck, or if I have meaningful reasons to travel. I wonder if it is possible to travel without focus on myself and what I will gain or how much fun I will have.. if it’s possible to travel out of pure and genuine respect and curiosity about the world. I wonder if someday, I’ll sit in an international gate, preparing to board a flight across the earth, and have inexplicable and surreal feelings about the trip - or I wonder if those feelings are even necessary to eradicate our entitlement to experience the world.
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