Passport Privilege
Today as I was going through my 3rd security check departing Antalya and heading to Tel Aviv, I handed my passport to the young woman checking the women in and said, “good morning”. She graciously and kindly switched to English to accommodate me and reached for my passport and boarding pass.
As soon as she looked at them she gasped and said “oh! America! These are my favorite”
Initially thinking she just meant aesthetically, I said something like “yeah, they are colorful” but then she said “it is always my dream to have one of these” and it took on a whole new meaning.
Her excitement drew the attention of the young man managing the men’s line and he shared her excitement exclaiming “America! I have never seen one of these before!” And asked if he could look at it. Of course he could.
As he flipped through it and looking at the shiny front page with my horrific picture on it, my disgruntled liberal soul couldn’t help but say “America really isn’t that great, I promise” and the young man said “oh, but it is a dream for us”.
I realized my blunder immediately. Remembered where I was.
That less than an hour prior I had been annoyed the people in front of me at migration were taking so long, that I was greeted with a warm smile as soon as I slid my passport through the window and was only asked to state my name before being wished a good trip.
I remembered that in the last year, I have passed immigration countless times and never worried. On several of these occasions, I wasn’t even spoken to, just stamped and sent on my way.
I remembered being annoyed I needed a visa to enter Türkiye, that took 4 minutes and $50 to obtain without any effort outside of filling out an online form.
I remembered my education, career, finances, independence, and general freedoms. But most importantly my freedom of movement.
I have never been so aware of my passport privilege than I was in that moment. These two 20-somethings fawning over this little book of pages that I haphazardly throw in to my purse, that I dropped in a pool a few months ago, and cross continents with uninhibited and almost entirely unrestricted.
I thought of the loose research I do traveling as a solo woman: googling “is XYZ safe for tourists”, often without considering is it safe for the people; especially women, BIPOC, and LGBTQAI+ who actually reside there.
I don’t need to do deeper research about safety based on my race, religion or sexual orientation. It is rare that there is not someone who speaks the only language I speak. If I cared more I might do a deeper dive in to “fat people in XYZ place”, but I don’t.
I have marched in the streets of NYC, DC, Lisbon, and CDMX. I consider myself a fierce ally and advocate, but this was a real life reminder of the many privileges I (and many like me) have.
I reconsidered every “how passports will travel” and “all you need is a passport” throw pillow and wall decor I have ever had and seen. I realised how privileged a thought that is, how there are millions of people who do not have the freedom to leave their homes, let alone cross boarders.
While living my dream, I often forget that what I left behind is someone else’s dream.
Thank you to these two young Turkish folx for the gift of deeper thinking, greater appreciation, and higher awareness they unknowingly gave me.
