#029 Is it ethical to live the digital nomad lifestyle?

You can enter our world, reap the benefits of your economic influence, and choose to leave without any repercussions.

Mar 28, 2023

Candy Bar Brown

54422D

01 — REFLECT

Is it ethical to live the digital nomad lifestyle?

As some of you know, I officially moved from the Dominican Republic to Florida on December 28, 2022. It was very unexpected, so much so that 2 weeks before our house was sold, I bought a brand new car because I was committed to getting over my fear of driving on Dominican streets. However, even before I moved here, I often got asked if I am actually Dominican or if I was just a digital nomad.

The short answer is, I am fully Dominican — I was born in Gazcue, one of the oldest neighborhoods in Santo Domingo, and so was most of my family except the first-generation Americans. I was able to get U.S. Citizenship because of my dad, who went through the naturalization process in the 80s while living in NYC. And when the time came, he requested a Certificate of Birth Abroad for both my brother and me, which automatically made us citizens. I think it goes without saying that I am entering this conversation with privileges many Dominicans cannot afford.

Life in the Dominican Republic is not easy. It is inconvenient, sometimes wildly unsafe, and frankly, always an uphill battle. We were able to extend our time back home largely due to my income and home ownership because although most people make a living in DOP (Dominican Pesos), a lot of the basic necessities are priced equivalently to the U.S. Dollar. That being said, I found it unsettling when I was asked if I was a digital nomad trying to get the most out of my U.S. income.

From my experience, the digital nomad lifestyle is another term for global gentrification — no matter how much you try to give back to the communities you directly impact. The counterargument usually addresses job creation and pumping money into the local economy, which at first sight is a positive outcome. Until it begins to scale, and the local communities start to decline in favor of the gentrifiers. You can enter our world, reap the benefits of your economic influence, and choose to leave without any repercussions. But your housekeeper, your server, your receptionist, and your taxi driver, all have to stay and survive in an economy that was not built to support them. In our case, we were able to find a way to navigate the impact of gentrification, but unfortunately, we couldn’t escape it.

Then, we are asked, “Why did you migrate? Why would you leave your beautiful country?” The simple answer is: we had to. The decades of colonization, corruption, and gentrification have impacted our communities way beyond repair — whatever way of life we have to expose ourselves to in countries that ultimately do not welcome us with open hands is still the better, and sometimes the only, choice. Sadly, this phenomenon applies even if you are a first or second-generation immigrant. The privilege of being born, raised, or a resident in a first-world country travels with you where you go. As a Dominican myself, when I go back home, I am not just a Dominican. I am a Dominican living in the United States of America, and it is my responsibility to navigate the negative effects I create within my own community. I understand that first-world countries have a long (very long) way to go, but failing to recognize the impact of having the upper hand in pursuing a cheap, laidback, or more “exciting” life is ultimately rooted in ignorance.

02 — DIGEST

When You Travel, Don’t Be A Colonizer

But there is a way to travel ethically as an individual. Start with understanding the destination’s historical, political, and environmental contexts. Upon arrival, support local business, seek sustainable living options, and make the trip about more than just yourself. If locals are struggling to access freshwater, rethink your luxury hotel.