What Spain Taught Me About Travel, Representation, and Hidden Stories

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Back in 2018, I traveled to Europe for the first time, and I saw little to no black people for close to half my

trip. I’d gotten the chance to take university courses in Madrid, Spain over the Summer, and I was pretty excited to start my journey exploring the rich history of one the biggest countries in Europe, but what I did not expect was to be constantly asking myself, “Where are the black people?”.

Outside a few fellow black students and a small amount of seemingly unhoused folk selling trinkets on the side of the road, the city of Madrid displayed itself as a culturally rich utopia for white Spaniards. And although I knew Spain was mostly inhabited by the paler kind, surely, with as many Caribbean islands Spaniards have trekked through to fulfill their colonizing dreams, I often thought to myself, "We must be running around here somewhere?".

Well, the answer came in the form of a haircut. At the time, I was rocking a faux mohawk that was growing out like weeds on an overgrown lawn, and every time I went up to a barbershop window, well, all I could see was...this…..(for those who are listening, I posted a picture of straight haired white men cutting other extremely straight haired white men's hair).

Thankfully, another student with the same 4c dilemma, was informed by one of the professors that there was a place that we could solve our tangled puzzle: the neighborhood of Lavapies.

Lavapies, which is known for its multiculturalism and working-class roots, was a breath of fresh air. Within 10 mins of exploring this small pocket of Madrid, I was able to find a barbershop with pictures that matched my hair texture, and barbers that looked like distant cousins.

After leaving one of the barbershops with a cut that made me look like a light skinned Grace Jones, I was so happy to find my people, I really didn’t give two sh*ts. I spent the rest of the day exploring the neighborhood's restaurants, clothing stores, art spots, you name it. I was fascinated, but also frustrated, as I thought, “Why is this neighborhood not on any brochures or travel guides? Why did it take me needing a haircut to finally find faces that resembled mine?”.

My in the woods running around the mountains of Spain with my Grace Jones cut.

Sadly, this wouldn’t be the last time this happened. After my study abroad program ended, I decided to be a real life Thornberry and travel through as many European countries as possible, before I ended up broke as a joke. I constantly found myself having to go above and beyond to find my people, since all the tourists spots I researched seemed to purposely lead me away from them.

Travel Tip: If you ever want to find black and brown neighborhoods, ask a non-black person, “Which part of the city do you feel the most unsafe?”, and you’ll nearly always get your answer.

After this experience, when traveling through different states in my home country, the grand USA, I noticed the same issues. I was always left questioning, where’s our spots? Our eateries, galleries, hair shops…our community? Questions like this became even more potent in America, seeing that black folk literally built this country from the ground up!

So, I decided to start this travel blog. This travel blog is meant to spotlight the places where we DO exist, thrive, create, and leave our mark. Whether you’re craving soul food in the South, looking for art that reflects your roots, or just trying to get a damn haircut, this space is for you. You shouldn’t have to dig through the internet, like a scavenger hunt, just to feel seen. So consider this a sort of unofficial Green Book, that has been curated for us, by us.

Come explore, connect, and help build the kind of travel community we’ve always deserved. We've been here, so, let’s make sure we’re never left out the guide again.

Sincerely,

Danielle D.