As many Canadians turn away from U.S. travel over politics and polarization, I’m choosing to cross the border with open eyes, an open heart, and a quiet hope for connection.
I have lost count of how many times I’ve crossed into the United States.
California was my first great love outside of Canada—my early twenties spent under palm trees and studio lights, learning film, learning people, learning how a place can shape you. Since then, I’ve visited coastal towns and desert cities, small music bars and big museums, communities rebuilding after storms and communities wrestling with who gets to belong.
Now, in this political moment, with Donald Trump back in office and rhetoric running hot, the question follows me into almost every conversation: “Are you still going?”
For many Canadians, the answer is no. Recent polling shows a clear cooling of sentiment: a majority say they’re less likely to visit the U.S. because of the current political climate, policy shifts, and a sense that their values are under attack or unwelcome. Pax News Travel data reflects this mood: Canadian trips to the U.S. have dropped significantly through 2025, with airlines cutting capacity and border communities feeling the loss.
Listening Across a Border
From a Canadian vantage point, it is easy to flatten “America” into one story: angry rallies, cable news panels, Supreme Court decisions, polarizing soundbites. But when we stay only in that frame, we risk turning neighbours into abstractions.
Being physically present—walking through neighbourhoods, ordering coffee at the local haunt, talking with drivers, servers, students, activists, small business owners—does not excuse harmful policy. It reveals context. It reminds us that there are people organizing, resisting, caring for each other, and trying to build a different future inside the same borders that trouble us. For me, travelling to the U.S. right now is not an endorsement of any administration. It is an act of calibrated engagement.
Calibrated means:
- I am aware of my safety and my privileges.
- I stay informed about local laws and risks.
- I choose where I spend my money with intention.
- I refuse to turn away from complexity.
This is not about being “brave” or contrarian. It is about refusing to answer division with disappearance.
Why Some Canadians Are Saying “No” – And Why That Matters
We need to acknowledge, clearly and respectfully, why many Canadians are avoiding U.S. trips right now.
Reasons I hear often (and that research echoes) include:
- Disagreement with U.S. leadership and rhetoric directed at allies, journalists, and marginalized groups.
- Concerns about personal safety, gun violence, protests, and civil unrest.
- Discomfort with border policies, screening measures, and the tone at some ports of entry.
- Economic realities: a weak Canadian dollar and high travel costs make “voting with your wallet” feel both political and practical.
These responses are not overreactions. For some travellers—especially racialized Canadians, queer and trans travellers, people with precarious status, or those directly targeted by U.S. policies—the decision to stay away is a deeply rational act of self-protection. Their choice deserves respect, not debate. My choice to go is made with those truths in mind. It comes with responsibility.
If you, like me, are uneasy but still drawn to visit—maybe for work, family, advocacy, or simple affection for the landscapes and communities you’ve come to love—here are ways to cross the border consciously, not blindly.
1. Go With Your Eyes Open, Not Your Guard Down
Before travelling, I read widely: local news, community pages, and rights-focused resources. I check what’s happening in state legislatures, in school boards, in the streets. Not to terrify myself out of going, but to avoid walking in naïve. Awareness is a form of respect.
2. Choose Where Your Money Sleeps
Every dollar is a vote for the kind of world we want. I look for:
- Locally owned hotels, guesthouses, and restaurants.
- Businesses that are explicit about inclusion, fair wages, and community support.
- Experiences that are rooted in history, nature, and culture—not exploitation.
In Texas, that might mean staying in walkable neighbourhoods, supporting independent cafés, visiting museums that confront difficult histories, and booking tours with guides who centre local voices.
3. Ask Better Questions
Instead of leading with, “Things are wild here, huh?”, I ask:
- “How are things feeling in your community right now?”
- “What gives you hope?”
- “If a visitor wants to be supportive and respectful here, what should they know?”
Travel becomes a conversation, not commentary.
4. Stand Quietly but Clearly in Your Values
If a remark crosses a line—racist, sexist, anti-immigrant, anti-LGBTQ+—I do not laugh it off to “keep the peace.” I also do not turn every dinner into a televised debate. There is space between silence and shouting. A simple, steady response—“That doesn’t sit right with me”—is sometimes enough to register that other perspectives exist.
5. Remember: You Are a Guest, Not a Judge
As Canadians, we can be smug. We must resist it. Our own country has deep, unresolved injustices—especially toward Indigenous communities and racialized citizens. Crossing the border is not an invitation to perform moral superiority; it is an invitation to show up with humility, recognise shared struggles, and learn from people doing the work on both sides.
The Takeaway
I am not travelling to pretend everything is fine. I am travelling to remember that behind every headline is a human being pouring coffee, grading papers, running a shelter, playing piano in a hotel bar, marching for rights, planting trees, raising kids who are watching all of us to see whether we choose contempt or curiosity.
For Canadians who are staying away from the United States, I understand you. For those still going, I stand with you in saying: our presence must mean more than shopping and palm trees. We can cross this border awake—investing in truth-telling spaces, listening to the people living the consequences of political decisions, and carrying those stories back home. Not to excuse, not to endorse, but to insist that connection is still possible in a fractured world.
Because if we only ever engage with each other through outrage from a distance, the divide wins. And I am not prepared to let that be the whole story.
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