Over the past while, I’ve noticed more women talking about solo travel. It could be that I’m simply noticing it more because it’s part of my life, but I don’t think that’s the whole story. I think something has shifted, and I think Tracee Ellis Ross has played a role in that.

The first time her solo travel series came up for me was almost by accident. I was talking to a friend about my travels, sharing something casually, when my friend interrupted and said that I travel more than anyone else she knows, mostly on my own, and that there are other women who want that too. Then she asked if I’d watched Tracee Ellis Ross’s solo travel show.

I hadn’t. I live in Prague, I don’t have Roku, and I wasn’t following what was happening in U.S. streaming platforms. I was curious, though. A few months later, when I was in Canada visiting family, my cousin mentioned she’d already seen the series. She restarted it and watched it again with me.

It’s only three episodes, so the commitment is low. As we watched, we talked through it. We had opinions. We still do. But I also understood very quickly why people were talking about it.

Glamour, fantasy, and what solo travel usually looks like

Tracee Ellis Ross travels beautifully. The luggage, the clothes, the hotels, the private cars. If that’s the kind of travel you want, I genuinely hope you get to experience it. I want that sometimes too. That said, it’s not how most of us travel.

I’m not a backpacker, but I do try to limit myself to one medium-sized piece of luggage. My solo trips are less about decadence and more about experience. I enjoy myself, absolutely, but I’m also gaining confidence, learning how to navigate new places, and building a kind of internal trust that I carry back home with me.

In watching Solo Travelling with Tracee Ellis Ross, I enjoyed the glamour and the cracks. They all show a very real part of the solo travel experience.

Vulnerability, loneliness, and holding more than one truth

There are moments in the series where Tracee talks openly about loneliness. In one episode, she gets sick and spends time in bed recovering, mostly off camera. Those moments mattered to me.

Anyone who has traveled alone knows that duality well. You can be standing somewhere breathtaking, having an experience that feels deeply meaningful, and at the same time wish there were someone beside you to share it with. I’ve had that many times.

Sometimes you exchange a look or a smile with a stranger and recognize that you’re both having a similar moment. That can be lovely, but it’s fleeting. You don’t reminisce about it later.

Tracee talks about not waiting for a partner to live her life, and she also talks about feeling lonely. That’s something I recognize from my own travel too, that different experiences can exist at the same time.

Inner life and what becomes visible with age

One of my favorite words is “sonder.” I don’t remember the exact definition, and I’m not going to look it up, but it has something to do with each person having a rich internal life.

That idea stayed with me as I watched the series. As women, we tend to be seen primarily through our outward roles, but that’s only part of the picture. Internally, we’re complex. And for women over 40 especially, that inner world has decades of experience behind it.

Tracee wasn’t truly alone in the way most of us would be. She had a crew, support, resources. But she didn’t rush past discomfort. She allowed it to be part of the story. That stood out to me.

It’s reassuring to be reminded that things can go wrong and that we can recover.

Expectations, pressure, and meeting yourself on the road

We assign many expectations solo travel, especially when we talk about it as something that’s supposed to change you. We imagine it as a particular kind of experience, but it can look many different ways, all of which are okay.

Traveling alone means meeting yourself in unfamiliar situations. You adjust plans. You manage uncertainty. You listen to the voice in your head.

I’ve been mid-trip and thought, “Who thought a 15-hour train ride was a good idea?” Those thoughts come up whether we’re alone or not. The difference is that when you’re solo, you don’t have someone next to you to process it with in real time.

That’s why I think representation matters. Seeing challenges acknowledged without drama makes the experience feel more accessible.

Why this moment feels different

Since lockdown, many people have had their sense of stability shaken. Jobs disappeared. Security turned out to be more fragile than expected. Even for those of us who kept working, there was often a realization about how much of life is given over to productivity and how little space is left for joy.

When things slow down, even briefly, we notice what’s missing. It’s not always clear at first, but if you stay with that feeling instead of distracting yourself, it starts to take shape. And at some point, continuing exactly as before stops feeling possible.

Age, choice, and living outside the expected timeline

For me, solo travel has never been about escaping my life. My life comes with me wherever I go. It’s about trusting myself enough to meet what’s there.

That includes emotions showing up unexpectedly. I’ve cried on trips. I’ve felt overwhelmed. You don’t control emotions in unfamiliar environments.

Add adds another layear to this. Women are still told, implicitly and explicitly, what the stages of our lives should look like and what should matter most.

I was recently talking with a friend over 40 who wasn’t sure whether children were in her future. She spoke about focusing on her career and then realizing that time had passed without fully acknowledging it.

I relate to that tension, even though my life unfolded differently. I focused on work, lived internationally, taught in different places. I did get lonely sometimes, and I don’t want to gloss over that. But I also cherished the space I had. My life felt like mine. That sense of freedom has shaped many of my choices.

Letting questions remain open

I still wonder how I’ll feel about my choices later in life. I’m aware that some of that questioning comes from inside me, and some of it comes from cultural or societal expectations that haven’t disappeared.

I feel clear that motherhood wasn’t the right choice for me. That clarity doesn’t mean the questioning voice never shows up. It does.

Tracee Ellis Ross is visible. She’s dated. She’s unmarried. Some people see that as a failure. Others see it as a different path. Watching her makes visible the tension between what we want and what we’re told should matter.

More women are choosing lives outside traditional markers of success, which means we’re also having to create new ways of understanding what fulfillment looks like. That process isn’t always comfortable, for the people living it or the people watching from the outside.

Sitting with what’s there

I don’t talk much about religion publicly, but I am religious, and that adds another layer. Some faith traditions define purpose very clearly, often through marriage and children.

I don’t have a neat resolution to that tension. I’m okay letting it remain unresolved. I’m okay being imperfect.

What I wanted most while watching the series wasn’t for Tracee Ellis Ross to arrive at answers. I wanted to see that she was okay. Because that meant I could be okay too.

An invitation

This episode, my invitation to you is to notice when something draws you in, and then notice the voice that explains why it doesn’t make sense or why you should wait. Let both exist. Pay attention to what you’re feeling.

We don’t always give ourselves much space to do that.

Join the community

And if you want a place to explore this shift with other women who are feeling the same pull toward freedom, you’re welcome in my Skool community. It’s a warm space for support, clarity, and steady momentum as you take your first steps into becoming the woman who travels.