I had a nightmare last night… a vivid, stressful, ruminating dream that seemed to go on for hours and left me feeling drained when it was finally time to roll out of bed.
In it, a close connection was angry and accused me of all kinds of terrible things – truly awful things that don’t even need to be put to paper. And what really upset Dream Me (and disoriented Waking Me, for a brief moment) was just how certain this person was in their accusations.
Whatever it was they thought I’d done, they clearly believed it had been with the intent to harm.
Assuming we understand the intent of another person who’s left us feeling a certain way is dangerous territory. So, too, is assuming that our intent clearly comes across in the impact we have on others.
This happens all the time in personal relationships – and as I’m learning, often when we travel, too.
Intent ≠ Impact
Remember the old saying, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions”?
Intent does not equal impact. How we mean to show up in the world can easily be misunderstood and come across entirely differently.
Here’s an example… Canadian tourists have long had a tradition of taking gently used clothes that no longer fit them down to Cuba.
Canadians account for more than half of all visitors to Cuba, and many of us consider it a go-to winter vacation destination. We get to know the people who work in the resorts and think we have a pretty good idea of some things they need that would help improve their lives in some way.
And so we pack a suitcase full of clothing, and leave most of it there for resort staff (alongside tubes of toothpaste, soap, tampons, and other things that are expensive and hard to get on an island nation).
It’s an action undertaken with good intent, and the impact is that it serves the needs of those on the receiving end.
Now, come on over to Guatemala with me for a minute.
Here, the textile industry is important both economically and culturally. Apparel and textiles are one of Guatemala’s top exports, and clothing is not only functional but is traditionally a key part of Indigenous Guatemalan identity.
“For centuries, Maya women’s weaving has been a form of resistance. Spanish priests and authorities colonizing the land that is now Guatemala burned Maya books and destroyed cultural artefacts. Using a hidden language of symbols and colors, Maya women documented and preserved stories and culture in their textiles. Weavers were essential for the survival of Maya culture.
Today, wearing indumentaria maya (traditional handwoven Maya clothing) can still be an act of resistance. Maya women may face discrimination when they wear indumentaria, especially in professional spaces, but their choice is an expression of pride in Maya identity.”

The colours and patterns in Guatemalan weaving can communicate a great many things about the person wearing them, and the environment in which they live.
You can have the same intent – to help people in a less affluent country by bringing clothing you no longer need to share with the people you meet.
But the impact of that action lands differently in Guatemala (and other Central/South American countries, as well as parts of Asia), where doing so dilutes the local market, contributes to the decline of their textile industry, and can even add to their financial burdens.
In many of these countries, garbage dumps and second-hand shops are already overflowing with Western clothing shipped down in tightly wrapped bales from Canada and the USA. They really don’t need another suitcase of used clothes.
Not knowing this doesn’t make you a bad person.
But it might help you understand why something you’ve done wasn’t appreciated the way you thought it should have been.
Here’s another example, and this one happens both traveling and at home.
Learning about other cultures and languages is a really good thing. It can help you avoid those massive gaps between intent and impact while you’re traveling, whether as a tourist or a nomad.

But how you attain that knowledge can actually drive you further down the rabbit hole of disconnect between what you’re trying to do and how it comes across to the outside world.
So you want to learn more about the Indigenous people in your community, or you’d like to practice a bit of Spanish while you’re on vacation, or you sincerely desire to understand more about colonialism so you can be a better ally to the many culturally diverse people you encounter as you wander around this big rock.
These are great intentions.
But it goes sideways when we rely too heavily on those impacted by our lack of knowledge to do the work of educating us.
The server at the resort is busy, you guys. Expecting him to stand at your table for 10 minutes coaching you through the Spanish pronunciation of different types of fruit may be too big an ask in that moment. The Indigenous people in your school or work community may not want to sit on every board and committee in perpetuity to help different groups of well-intentioned white folks understand their impact at every turn. Your Black and Asian friends might be exhausted from having to explain and give context to news stories for you.
And the Israelis, Palestinians, Ukrainians, and other people you meet who are directly impacted by active conflict – they deserve your most caring, thoughtful, emotionally intelligent self in every interaction.
Now, this doesn’t mean you cannot talk to these people or ask questions – please don’t stop being curious and wanting to learn. And I hope this doesn’t come across all preachy, because I get this wrong all the time.
Understanding your impact means giving just as much thought and consideration – maybe even more – to the needs of those you’re interacting with as you give your own.
It means actively challenging your assumption that people will understand and appreciate your intentions.
They very well may not, and then you’ll get sore about being unappreciated and feeling undervalued.
It means asking yourself questions like:
Are there potential unforeseen outcomes of my taking this action?
How could I lessen any negative impact?
Am I actively listening and open to feedback?
Are there any non-verbal signals I should be picking up on here?
What alternative is there to asking someone to spend their time for free helping me understand this issue or topic?
Am I clearly communicating my intent?
Is this thing I’m about to do truly solving a problem for someone or am I doing it to feel good about having done something?
Am I taking more than I’m giving in this interaction?
Is there some way (monetary or otherwise) I could give back so this is a fair and reciprocal exchange?
Do Your Homework
It could be that you need to pay for language lessons to learn the basics.
Maybe you need to find some reputable documentaries, books, and podcasts to deepen your understanding of the place you’re visiting and the people you’ll be interacting with.

Perhaps there are already non-profit and government organizations with deeper knowledge you could volunteer with to learn more while being useful.
There are likely educational and cultural experiences you can pay for that serve both your goals and the local economy.
Do your own homework so you take a higher level of base knowledge into other interactions with locals. Show the people you’re interacting with that you’re giving a real effort; that you don’t only have good intentions but are already backing it with action that didn’t require work on their part.
And listen, this is not easy stuff, to challenge your preconceptions and assumptions about how you’re showing up in the world. It’s a cycle that’s difficult to see when you’re caught up in it.
But it’s important to get right.
One of the things I crave most when nomading is community, and I can’t be a good community member if I’m bumbling around doing things that make me feel good but land differently for those on the receiving end.
Can you think of an example of a misalignment between your intent and impact – something you did with the best of intentions that just didn’t land the way you expected? Share yours and what you could have done differently in the comments.
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