Solo Travel as a Sovereign Act

Three women on what it costs to travel alone. What it gives back. And no, it’s not a trend.

My traveling life began at nine years old, in the cramped backseat of a 1960s VW Bug, crossing the Alps on a family trip to Italy. For two decades, I moved through the world in the safety of family and friends. Then, at 36, I cut the cord and toured Egypt alone. That journey was a declaration of independence. Since then, solo travel’s taken me from the boiling rim of an Ethiopian volcano to the cockpit of a helicopter over Victoria Falls.

Decades later, Tracee Ellis Ross, the Black-ish actress and unofficial North Star for the independent woman, confirmed what I’ve always known: There’s something vital about traveling alone. Her series, Solo Traveling with Tracee Ellis Ross, has tapped into a massive shift. According to JourneyWoman, 67% of women over 50 now identify as solo travelers. In the U.S. and Canada, this demographic’s projected to spend $519 billion by 2035.

Like Ellis Ross, my first solo trip “clicked” when travel shifted from a two-week, annual, supervisor-approved vacation to a self-funded manifesto. As a freelance project manager, I pivot between low-budget treks and luxury retreats depending on what the quarter brings in. This allows me to rub shoulders with a wide spectrum of the world, proving that solo travel’s a sovereign act. It doesn’t require a celebrity budget or an elite job. It’s a mindset, not a mileage count.

The Kinetic Pivot: Beyond the Backseat

Sovereignty often begins with a refusal to wait for permission. For Gina Norgard, who spent 40 years working as a nanny in New York before reinventing herself as a professional organizer, the spark came from the film, Gorillas in the Mist. In 2011, at 50, she headed to Uganda to see the endangered mountain gorillas. Exhausted by the rain-soaked tangle of the Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, her legs gave out. The guide slowed the group’s pace; a porter steadied her steps to enable her to reach a silverback family play-wrestling in the vines. “I wasn’t prepared for the generosity of the community,” Norgard said. “It was life-changing.”

Aruna Paramasivam, a data technology expert, assigned herself the lofty goal of visiting every country in the world. She found a role with a global media firm that allows her to work from any international office for six weeks a year. While working in New Zealand last year, she checked off her remaining Pacific countries, bringing her total to a staggering 193.

For Khiara M. Bridges, a UC Berkeley law professor and classically trained ballerina, the pivot was about reclaiming the “work trip.” Currently on a seven-week solo tour for her book, Expecting Inequity, she researches ballet classes, walking trails, and vegan restaurants before arriving in a new city. “It makes the trip less like an obligation and more like an adventure,” she said.

The Architecture of Independence

Building a life of solo travel requires a specific kind of logistical rigor: what I think of as “working to live.” My career in finance was never the destination; it’s the fuel for my passions for travel and art.

Norgard’s independence is built on 40 years of service. When she fell in love with the Ugandan village, she didn’t just visit; she returned to co-found Educate Bwindi, a nonprofit supporting a local school. In 2018, she built a house on the edge of the forest. A friend gave her a piece of advice that shifted her power dynamic: “Let them see you do everything.”

“That meant putting bricks on my head and hauling jerry cans of water from the river,” Norgard recalled. “I dug trenches for the foundation with a pickaxe. We formed a team.” Her sovereignty wasn’t granted; it was excavated.

Assumptions, Dismissals, and the Interrogative Lean

Despite the empowerment, moving through the world alone as a woman of color carries a “friction.” Returning through passport control at JFK, I’m often met with the “interrogative lean.” On a recent arrival from Tanzania, the immigration officer’s eyes fluttered between my face and my passport.

“Isn’t a safari expensive?” he asked. It was a demand seeking to justify how a woman like me occupies a luxury space. “Yes,” I replied, “but I travel in the off-season when it’s cheaper.” I offered the logistical truth to quiet the assumption that I didn’t belong. Even at 70, the world asks me to prove my right to be here.

Norgard faced similar scrutiny in Bwindi. “I designed the house myself and had to push back,” she said. “I’m not weak and I don’t need coddling, but having opinions can be tricky as a woman here. Even the colors I chose for the house were judged.” By doing the labor alongside the men, she forced a shift in the local “norm,” eventually seeing the community adopt the very styles they once questioned.

Tactical Autonomy: The Data of the Road

Solo travel’s a masterclass in problem-solving. Bridges cautions her law students that giving up what they love—be it music, travel, or poetry—is a recipe for anxiety. “My best days are when I dance in the morning and do my ‘think work’ in the afternoon,” she said. This duality allows her to navigate a new city with the same confidence she uses to dissect the intersections of race, class, and the law.

Paramasivam, despite not being a strong swimmer, became a certified scuba diver across six continents. “The more you show up, the better you get,” she admitted. For her, the “fear” other women cite about traveling alone’s an opportunity for data collection. “Having a sense of self means knowing you can figure it out if it goes sideways.”

From Invisible to Indispensable

In New York, Norgard has felt the “invisibility” that society inflicts on women over 60. Solo travel offers the antidote. “Bwindi provides me with literal grounding; my feet touch the earth every day,” she said. In the village, she’s no longer a “nanny” or an “older woman.” She’s a pillar of a collective focused on educating children.

Paramasivam finds that her travels actually fuel her corporate competence. “Instead of thinking how my work helps my travels, my travels help my work,” she said. The ability to stay calm when a canceled flight snowballs into a missed connection translates directly to keeping your cool in a boardroom.

Bridges calls it “unilateral agency.” “If I can figure out how to get around Paris and I don’t speak French,” she quipped, “I can work out how to battle my homeowners’ association.”

The Sovereign State of One

It’s not about the passport stamps; it’s about the “kinetic pivot”—the moment you realize you’re the captain of your own itinerary. Whether it’s a weekend side trip or building a house next to an impenetrable forest, solo travel’s an act of reclaiming the self.

It doesn’t require a celebrity budget or a perfect body. It demands the willingness to face the “interrogative lean” of the world and wave yourself through. From the grit of Norgard hauling bricks for a porch overlooking the gorillas to Paramasivam’s data-driven path toward her 194th country, from Bridges’ scholarly jog along the Seine to my own pursuit of a sky-high perspective, we’re all proof that the world’s brightest when you navigate it on your own terms.