My top tips for travelling as part of the trans community

After a week at the Maha Kumbh in India — the world’s largest human gathering which is a Hindu pilgrimage festival that had over 660 million visits during its 45-day span in early 2025 — I knew I was no longer the same person. Immersed in the chaos of millions all alone, navigating crowds, traveling as a trans person, and often feeling like the only foreigner in sight, I was overwhelmed. But in that same overwhelm, something shifted.

I felt seen, not in the way I was used to, but in a way that affirmed my womanhood at the deepest level. Yes, it was exhausting to be constantly asked if I was married, where my husband was, or whether I had children. But even in those moments, I felt a quiet victory. I was being treated just like any other woman — without hesitation or question.

Learning to not just exist, but to thrive in spaces where men visibly dominate public life taught me something profound about what it means to be a woman in a deeply patriarchal society. My travels have revealed the struggles, the strength, and the sacredness of the feminine experience around the world.

What once felt like the most defining part of my identity — my transness — has gently taken its place as just one part of a much larger, richer picture.

Start travelling

I’ve always known I wanted to see the world — not just the picture perfect spots, but the places they warn us about. The places they say aren’t safe for women, let alone trans women.

Early in my transition, I faced a painful truth: that this dream might never be possible for someone like me. The world didn’t seem made for us. And for a long time, I believed that. But slowly — through years of heartbreak, resilience, and reclaiming my worth — I began to change that story. It took everything in me to believe I had the right, like anyone else, to explore, to feel free, to be happy.

Now, months into solo traveling as a trans woman, I’ve not only learned how to survive in places people told me I shouldn’t go — I’ve learned how to thrive. LGBTQIA+ travel is possible all around the world, others have done it and so can you.

Every trans person’s experience will vary drastically, we are all completely different and there is no set way to be trans. I can only speak from my experience, and I have honestly felt so much more love, acceptance and respect than I EVER thought I would all around the world.

With that being said, we all know the dangers of traveling as a trans person. Here are some tips to keep safe and prepared.

Do your research: Laws and local attitudes

Some countries explicitly criminalise trans identity or expression. Laws might prohibit “cross-dressing,” “impersonation,” or any gender presentation that deviates from assigned sex — language that gives police broad discretion and creates serious risk.

Other countries criminalise homosexuality, but are silent on trans identities. This doesn’t mean you’re safe — it just means the laws are murky. You might still face profiling, harassment, or even arrest, especially if you’re perceived as queer. Know the laws. Understand the risks. But also know that laws don’t always reflect the people.

Passability, race, and even how you dress will shape how you’re treated more than any official rulebook. Some of the kindest, most accepting people I’ve met were in countries labeled “unsafe.”

I never imagined I’d consider visiting parts of the Middle East or Africa, but after months of travel and not being misgendered once, I realised I passed well enough to consider it.

If you’re new to travelling or unsure how others perceive you, I recommend starting with more trans-friendly or tourist-heavy countries. Build experience. Learn how you move through the world. Let safety guide you — but don’t let fear cage you.

Research is empowering, I have been debating on travel to South Africa, unsure if it’s safe for a solo trans woman. After reading an article on LGBTQIA+ travel regarding Cape Town, I now feel confident booking my ticket.

Visibility can be a double-edged sword

This might sound controversial, but in my experience, countries with less trans visibility can sometimes feel safer.

Why? Because if people have no concept of “trans,” they might simply see you as the woman (or man) you are. There’s less room for judgment when there’s less awareness. In places where trans visibility is high, the chances of being clocked — and then harassed — can increase. People know what to look for.

That said, visibility can also bring rights, resources, and community. It’s a trade-off.

Personally, I’ve found it easier to blend in where transness is less visible and tourism is low. I mimic local women in how I dress and carry myself, and I don’t disclose I’m trans unless it feels safe. The world isn’t perfect — but perception is everything. And sometimes the safest thing you can be is unreadable.

City by city: Be prepared for drastic changes

Even within the same country, the difference in how you’re perceived can be drastic.

In India, I traveled through over 20 cities. In Jaipur and Udaipur, where trans visibility is low, I passed completely. No stares. No questions. In Kerala, with higher visibility, people knew I was trans — but welcomed me with warmth and respect.

In Tamil Nadu however, the state with the most trans visibility in India, I felt the least accepted. I was stared at, and deeply uncomfortable. I thought Tamil Nadu would be the safest — but it wasn’t. That experience taught me that visibility does not always mean safety.

I ended up booking a last-minute flight to Sri Lanka. When I landed, Tinder automatically removed “Trans Woman” from my profile—for “safety.” I was nervous. I booked this flight last minute and did not do much research, but in the south, I felt free. I felt loved. I felt normal.

Later, on the eastern coast, the vibe changed again. I didn’t feel as embraced. It’s exhausting to constantly recalibrate how you move, speak, and dress — but this is the reality of traveling as a trans person.

Every city writes a new chapter. Be ready to adapt.

Hormones: The backpack burden

This one’s less poetic, but just as real: traveling with hormones can be a logistical nightmare.

I started with six months’ worth of estrogen and spironolactone in pill form. It takes up a ton of space in my 40L backpack, and remembering to take them twice a day while in transit is a pain.

Why pills? Because needles can be flagged or confiscated at airports, especially in countries with strict drug laws. Always carry your prescription in your name and keep the original bottles. I’ve never had issues at customs but it’s best to be prepared.

If you’re travelling stealth, this gets trickier. Hormones could raise questions. Do your research, especially for countries like Oman, which are notoriously strict. I’m planning to go soon, but I’ll wait until I’m running low to avoid carrying too many pills.

I am also leaving Thailand out of my itinerary until I need to restock on hormones!

Confidence is your best armour

Energy is everything. Move with grace. Move with intention. Even if you’re panicking inside — don’t show it. That bus driver trying to rush you? Let him wait. You’re in control.

People respond to your energy. The calmer and more self-assured you seem, the more they leave you alone.

Keep your head high. Look people in the eye. The message you send is simple:

“I see you. And I’m not afraid.”

Airports: The worst part

Let’s not sugarcoat it — airports are the hardest part of traveling as a trans person. Security. Customs. Immigration. It’s a place where those with their own beliefs and stigmas have power.

In many places, especially where most trans women are sex workers, traveling alone can make officials suspicious.

After three months in India, I left through Chennai. I was detained at immigration for over an hour. Four male officers grilled me. They looked through my bookings, my phone, my photos. It was humiliating and terrifying.

I’ve heard similar stories from other trans women. Sometimes it’s just protocol. Sometimes it’s profiling. Either way, be prepared. Know your rights. Share your location with someone. Have documents ready. I now travel prepared to airports, I have an album of pictures with all the sites I visited, I have proof of all my bookings and accommodations, I let my friends and family know where I am at and where I am going, and I dress as modestly as possible.

I have two close friends (a trans man and a trans woman) who recently traveled with a layover in Qatar, they had no issues, even though one of them has a passport with a different gender marker then what they present as. They did mention they did not feel safe using the bathroom there, but were pleasantly surprised by how kind everyone was to them.

Remember: you’re not alone. Others have done it—and so can you.

Traveling as a trans person is radical, powerful, and deeply transformative, but can also be overwhelming. One way to ease that pressure is to join Pride trips. These spaces offer more than just safety, they offer belonging. You meet people who not only accept you, but celebrate you. And that kind of community can make all the difference.

Remember, you don’t have to shrink to be safe—you just have to stay aware and walk with intention.

Trust your instincts. Trust your energy.

Stay alert. Stay free.

And keep shining.