Where have all the female travel writers gone?
"Where have all the cowboys gone," crooned Paula Cole. Don't expect the male travel writers to wonder why their female counterparts were underrepresented in this genre. Social standing was the main reason during the 19th century, but it wasn't hard to visualize Jane Austen using her wits in describing the social scene in British Raj. Likewise, the Brontë sisters could articulate their passionate (or violent) feelings after staring at the Moroccan desert. Heathcliff should be sitting on a clueless camel. Technology wouldn't change the pressure of settling down and raising a family, even if the average age was pushed forward. Money and perspectives could be the reasons why there weren't many female writers out there.
It wouldn't be hard for a man to come up with a compelling travel story. Think of Aron Ralston, who wrote his ordeal in Canyonlands National Park (and turned him into a celebrity). "The Man Who Would Be King" could be based on actual events, even if there was a possibility that Rudyard Kipling came up with his premise after listening to the sallies of reckless British adventurers. It was all about adrenaline, if not a brush with danger (and possible death). Not that female travelers shirk from any of that, even insisting on wanting a perspective of a place first and foremost. It might be due to other circumstances.
Elizabeth Gilbert's marriage fell apart, prompting her to travel for a year. Her memoirs were written in "Eat, Pray, Love: One Woman's Search for Everything Across Italy, India, and Indonesia", where she met her next husband during her sojourn in Ubud. Fans must not expect her to go on the road after her second one ended in separation (and divorce). Similar circumstances prompted Cheryl Strayed to hike from the Mojave Desert to the Bridge of the Gods l and write "Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail". Expect Hollywood to scourge the bookstores (or Internet) for these books, as it could be perfect materials for older actresses. (Playing female superheroes could be another option.) Women with children might not be inclined to follow this path, but it was rather a matter of choice.
Mary Kingsley's "Travels in West Africa", which was published in 1897, described the author's journey in a region that would become the present-day Ghana, Nigeria, Cameroon, Equatorial Guinea and Gabon. She might put Sir Haggard to shame, as she waded through swamps for a few hours at a time. “It is at these times you realize the blessing of a good thick skirt,” she quipped after falling into a fifteen-foot game pit laid with 12-inch ebony spikes. George Kingsley, her father, was a doctor and traveler. There was no doubt that his wanderlust afflicted her, but in a good way. Miss Kingsley's writings changed the perception of readers on British colonialism. If there was a vaccine to typhoid fever, then she would live to explore the other unchartered regions in Africa.
You only need to have an Instagram account, as this app became a platform for female travelers to document their holidays. It might be too much to do a Gilbert (or Kingsley) unless a life-altering incident happened along the road.
