Okay, let’s set the scene: I’m sipping an oat milk latte at my local café when my friend Jess slams her phone down and says, “Another solo trip? Girl, are you running from life or toward it?” 😅 Cue the dramatic eye-roll. But honestly? I get it. The first time I booked a one-way ticket to Paris alone, my mom texted me 17 articles about “the dangers of women traveling solo” while my Tinder dates called it “brave but… weird.” 🙃
Here’s the tea: traveling alone as a woman isn’t just about Instagrammable sunsets (though, let’s be real, those help). It’s about accidentally becoming the protagonist of your own unscripted rom-com. Take my first solo night in Montmartre: I got lost down a cobblestone alley, stumbled into a tiny jazz bar, and spent hours debating existentialism with a 75-year-old accordion player named Claude who insisted I call him “the love doctor of the Seine.” 🎶 Did I understand 40% of his French? Non. Did I leave feeling like I’d unlocked a secret level of adulthood? Absolument.
But let’s get real—why does society still side-eye women who wander alone? A 2023 survey by Wanderess found that 70% of solo female travelers reported higher self-trust post-trip, yet 62% of their families still called it “reckless.” 🤷♀️ Reckless, my foot. Last month in Bali, I learned to surf from a instructor who doubled as a philosophy guru (“Wipeouts are just the ocean’s way of saying ‘hello, human!’”). In Iceland, I cried at a glacier lagoon while a stranger handed me a Kleenex and said, “It’s okay, the ice is crying too.” Science says solitude boosts creativity (thanks, 2019 Journal of Environmental Psychology), but nobody warns you it’ll also turn you into a low-key poet who journals about cloud shapes. ☁️
Here’s the thing nobody tells you: solo travel isn’t just doing things alone—it’s meeting yourself. That time in Kyoto, I spent three hours in a cat café before realizing I’d forgotten to “perform” likability for anyone. No rushed small talk, no compromising on ramen shops. Just me, six cats, and the revolutionary thought: Oh. I’m actually… fun? 🐱
And yeah, I’ve had “those” moments. Like getting stranded in a Moroccan market after my phone died, only to be rescued by a henna artist who taught me how to haggle in Darija while doodling florals on my arm. Or that time in Costa Rica when I ziplined through a cloud forest screaming “I’M THE MAIN CHARACTER!” (The guide laughed. The howler monkeys judged.) But here’s the kicker: a 2022 Stanford study found women who travel solo develop sharper problem-solving skills than those who always rely on groups. Take that, societal anxiety!
Skeptics say, “But isn’t it lonely?” Honey, loneliness is scrolling TikTok at 2 a.m. while your crush’s “typing…” bubble disappears. Solo travel? That’s sitting in a Lisbon tramside café scribbling postcards to your future self, or bonding with a Swedish backpacker over mutual hatred of hostel snorers. It’s freedom to be exactly as weird as you are—no performative laughter, no editing your Spotify playlist.
Last week, my Uber driver asked why I “keep doing this.” I grinned: “Because every time I come back, I’m 10% more me.” Sure, my cat still glares at my suitcase like it’s her nemesis, and yes, I’ve been called a “walking rom-com trope” by my sarcastic brother. But here’s the secret: when you stop waiting for a squad to validate your adventures, you realize the most fascinating person to explore with… is you. �
So to every woman Googling “is solo travel safe/sad/selfish?”—do it scared. Do it awkward. Do it with extra snacks and a questionable sense of direction. The world isn’t just waiting for you; it’s been rooting for you all along. 🌍✨