The stark divergence in the data — global tourism boom in 2025 versus America’s tourism decline — is precisely why WTTC showed up in Washington, said Gloria Guevara, the organization’s returning leader.

But in a room full of travel experts, no one was spelling out in human terms why fewer international tourists are coming to America beyond visa hurdles. And that’s the problem.

The Focus on Data

For most of the briefing, the conversation circled around the numbers — the deficit, the decline, the lost market share. In a nutshell: global tourism had its best year ever in 2025— $11.6 trillion contributed to the world economy — except for the United States.

The US lost 4.5 million international visitors year-over-year. Its share of global tourism dropped from 9.4% to 8.7%. International visitor spending fell 4.6%. It was the only country out of 184 analyzed to see inbound visitor spending decline. Meanwhile, China is on a growth path, gaining nine million visitors and experiencing a 10.5% increase in international visitor spending.

The economic damage of America’s new visa and immigrant policies has been widely documented. But the human story behind the why of America’s tourism decline — of communities afraid to travel there, of the racialized fear that’s become a new normal — that conversation is still happening behind closed doors.

Guevara, the first Latina to lead WTTC in 2017, spoke about tackling America’s perception problem in broad terms and pointed to the existence of bright spots like the efficiency of US Global Entry, and the upcoming FIFA World Cup, as part of why the US remains the #1 largest travel and tourism market for now.

Jennifer Wilson-Buttigieg, Head of Travel Policy at Chase Travel — WTTC’s lead research partner — urged the room to tell positive stories about America and its small businesses. The Great American Road Trip campaign. The 2026 FIFA World Cup. America’s 250th anniversary celebrations.

I agree that community and small business storytelling matters, as do stories on seamless travel and technology advancing at airports.

But are we really going to sit here in 2026 and not spell out what’s really driving US tourism decline?

When you don’t name a problem and state your position — especially in the tourism space — you can’t fix it. Since no one was spelling it out during the meeting, I felt compelled to speak up—especially as an Ethiopian American who came to this country as an immigrant and someone who has been a law abiding citizen.

America’s perception problem goes deeper than marketing and the press putting out feel good stories on small businesses. It runs deeper than visa hurdles (those are real, yes).

And it starts with the fact that the US travel industry has remained largely silent on the treatment of its American immigrant communities — the bulk of which make up the US tourism workforce. Silence from the world’s #1 tourism market does not inspire consumer confidence.

Communities of color are being detained, surveilled, deported — brutally handled in full view of the world, shipped to detention centers without due process, even when they are law-abiding green card holders and naturalized citizens. People who are native-born or here legally are afraid to step outside, wondering if they’ll be mistakenly swept up. Visitors are seeing this and hearing of it on social media, and they’re afraid of visiting or turned off, too.

Support for DEI has fallen off and on that, most of the industry has remained silent on it.

Travelers from Latin America, from the Caribbean, from communities with deep ties to this country — and plenty of those who have no ties at all, including Europeans and Canadians — are watching all of this unfold and they don’t want to vacation in a place that treats ordinary people this way based on their origin or the color of their skin. We know this. No campaign changes that sentiment. No grand American road trip itinerary erases what they’re seeing on their screens.

As I said to Gloria Guevara— sure as a Latina leading WTTC, she understands that communities don’t want to see people who look like them dehumanized. She nodded — and when I looked around the room, everyone else was nodding too. Yet no one in the room was saying it out loud.

“At Destinations International, they had the Mayor and the head of the chamber of commerce for Minneapolis speak and reflect on what occurred and why it’s important to come back,” said Chase Travel’s Wilson-Buttigieg. “So I agree there’s starting to be some of those stories out there, but not enough, I agree with you.”

The problem? Destinations International is a private sector membership group and executives attend that event. Global travelers aren’t in that room and hearing from American leaders in the industry saying they care. The media isn’t there, either, if I’m not mistaken.

Guevara then shared her take, that the Trump administration knows because they reached out to WTTC to get some of the latest data. “And that’s a big step,” she said. “They know that spend is declining and China is growing faster than them, they care, and that’s why they have a new envoy to change perception.”

She added that corporate members “are talking to the administration directly — not publicly, but yes, a lot. ”

Speaking behind closed doors and in private does not reassure the traveling public considering where to vacation. If we are an industry that claims to believe in diversity, people-to-people connections, in the transformative power of crossing borders — we must stand for what is right, express that we are inclusive and welcoming to all races and say it to the world as an industry that sits in a divisive political climate. That we support our immigrant workforce, who make up the bulk of tourism labor.

Unfortunately that hasn’t happened. The language continues to focus on economic terms. Or it ignores the reality and says to come visit “America the Beautiful.”

We can all agree this country has incredible places to visit and a bucket list that is endless. But what happens when you can’t go on road trips without a deep sense of fear? Who wants to vacation in a place where you’re not sure what will happen to you or your loved ones unless you have Global Entry?

The messaging from the US travel industry is diplomatic, desensitized and ineffective. And it’s only going to get worse as the public-facing messaging remains absent.

Note, too, that the US posted a $58 billion tourism trade deficit in 2024. By 2025, that figure grew to $72 billion — Americans traveling abroad in record numbers while far fewer people are choosing to come here.

What Needs to Happen

The industry’s instinct to lead with positive narratives while avoiding the harder conversation has long prevented travel and tourism from having the reckoning it needs. Tourism thrives on peace and the perception of welcome. To the outside world right now, the United States is projecting neither. No amount of positive stories will eclipse what is a massive policy problem with a very human face.

You cannot market your way out of a climate of fear. Silence is a choice, no matter how risky speaking up may be — and one that consumers around the world notice and remember.

So what could happen to help start to move the perception needle?

Name it publicly. Not just in private briefings where everyone nods. The acknowledgment has to be on record, in public, with the weight of the industry’s credibility behind it. Take a page out of Explore Minnesota, for example. When ICE occupied the city, their tourism response didn’t hide — they leaned in, reminding the world that Minnesota looks out for its own, that immigrant communities and small businesses are the fabric of the city. They acknowledged ICE activity hurting the local economy, without getting too political. That’s leadership. The rest of the industry should be taking notes.

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Use the economic leverage. WTTC, the US Travel Association and the major hotel and airline brands have enormous influence with policymakers. That influence should extend beyond visa processing times — to the climate of fear actively driving visitors away.

Center the human cost. The $12.5 billion in lost visitor spending is significant. But the Ecuadorian father detained before deportation, the Dominican family afraid to visit Miami, the Colombian traveler who chose France instead — those are the real stories of what is being lost.

The travel industry is thriving because more people want to move freely through the world — to explore, connect with others and belong somewhere new. That promise is being broken right now in the United States. And the industry that profits from that promise owes it to the world to say so.

I’ll say this personally, too: after many months of limited bandwidth and focusing on my own family — feeling the weight of ensuring we remain safe even though we are all US citizens or legal residents — I’m now spelling it out loud though I should not have to.

Leadership requires being bold enough to name the truth — out loud, in public, on social media, with empathy. It can be done, without getting political, and it’s never been more urgent.

After the big brands and the US travel industry bands together in a unified voice to spell out the hurdle in human terms, not visa or TSA language —the Marriotts, the Hiltons, Brand USA and the other huge players in WTTC— then maybe those impactful stories about small businesses will have a trickle down impact. And maybe, the global tourist’s perception may begin to shift.

Until then, travelers will continue to choose other places and the US will continue to lose its grip on global tourism.

What started out as a tropical storm turned into a Category 4 system within 24 hours, then a Cat 5. It aimed for Jamaica and was ruthless: Roofs vanished, trees snapped like matchsticks, and storm surges swallowed coastal towns. Rivers burst their banks. Entire neighborhoods disappeared under water.

It’s impossible to get a full damage assessment at this early stage, but already more than 20,000 people are displaced and in shelters—they have lost their homes, all their belongings, as well as their businesses and farms. Entire communities are cut off as roads collapsed, left with no food, no water, no shelter—and fuel is limited.

Some have begun to receive help through World Central Kitchen and other established nonprofit organizations, as well as aid delivered via helicopter from assisting nations, including the US, Venezuela, El Salvador and the Dominican Republic.

Several parishes won’t have electricity until at least late November, if that, and Starlink has helped a handful quickly connect with loved ones. But by and large, there is no communication. All this while Jamaica’s capital, Kingston, was thankfully largely spared.

But as we wipe our tears, pray for Jamaica and donate to relief efforts, let’s also be clear about what created this storm.

The ocean that fed Hurricane Melissa was unnaturally hot—close to 31 degrees Celsius, about two degrees higher than the long-term Caribbean average. Heat like that is rocket fuel for hurricanes. The physics are simple: warm water evaporates faster, air holds more moisture, and the hurricane grows heavier and angrier with every mile.

That heat is no surprise. For half a century, oil and gas companies have known exactly what burning their products does to the atmosphere. Their own scientists charted the rise in global temperature, warned of the greenhouse effect, and even predicted the two-degree increase we’re now brushing against. They published the research, buried the memos, and kept going.

Governments kept subsidizing them. New oil fields were approved in the Atlantic and Africa even after the International Energy Agency said we couldn’t open a single new one if we wanted a livable planet. The Caribbean, which emits less than one percent of global carbon emissions, pays the most for those decisions—through lives lost, lives upended, and countries destroyed. The most vulnerable people who also happen to be people of color.

Jamaica will rebuild again, sure. It always does. But rebuilding while the engines of the crisis keep running is like bailing water while someone widens the hole in the boat.

My Jamaica Connection

Jamaica is where I started my career in travel journalism. As a new writer, I drove around the island—weeklong and monthlong road trips—reporting from local guesthouses and small communities. It’s always been the people who made the difference.

That’s why watching the aftermath hits different. Seeing St. Elizabeth Parish (Treasure Beach, a community-based tourism hub), Black River, St. James Parish, and parts of Westmoreland—including my former home base, Negril, plus Whitehouse and Bluefields—get destroyed hurt deeply. I’ve cried watching it all from a distance, feel helpless. I know folks there. I’ve walked those streets, eaten at those tables, made friends. (Ironically I also had a major feature story coming out this week on a major news platform; of course we’ve hit pause on it, and if I get paid in the meantime I’ll be donating my fee.)

I’ve also lived through two Category 5 hurricanes before—Maria and Irma—while living in the Dominican Republic. By the grace of God we were largely spared. I’ve spent 15 years reporting on sustainable tourism in the Caribbean. Even so, the destruction in Jamaica this week, and the ripple effects of flooding and destruction in Haiti and the DR from a single storm, are staggering. But I shouldn’t be shocked, and neither should you. We should be very, very angry.

Not Just Another Storm

Black River, Jamaica—the storm’s “ground zero”—saw up to 90% of structures damaged. St. Elizabeth Parish is Jamaica’s breadbasket. Small farms that feed communities, not tourists. Those farms are underwater. The public hospital lost its roof and had to evacuate 75 patients in the middle of the hurricane. Residents have lost their lives, many of them just sitting beside the wreckage that was once their family home as they wait for aid.

In Haiti, 23 people died. Ten were children. One father, Steven Guadard, told reporters: “I had four children at home: a 1-month-old baby, a 7-year-old, an 8-year-old and another who was about to turn 4.” Gone in one moment when the river burst.

Cuba evacuated more than 735,000 people. Communities remain without electricity, internet, or phone service. Banana, cassava, and coffee plantations destroyed.

When these storms hit, it’s not only infrastructure that’s lost. People lose cultural heritage sites, traditional ecological knowledge, oral histories. In historic Accompong Town in Jamaica, where I once joined Maroon Day celebrations—90% of homes are gone. The museum is decimated. The sacred landscape stripped bare.

How Jamaica Had to Bet Against Itself

Jamaica will receive a record-breaking $24 billion JMD (about US $150 million) payout following Hurricane Melissa, from a catastrophe bond structured by Aon and arranged by the World Bank. It’s the first in the Caribbean region and the first island in the world to independently sponsor this type of bond. The funds are expected to be disbursed within 14 days.

It’s being celebrated as a success story. But think about what it actually means: Jamaica had to bet on its own destruction to get protection from a crisis it didn’t cause.

The Caribbean emits less than 1% of global carbon but is among the most climate-vulnerable places on Earth. Yet it pays premiums to insurance markets for disasters created by wealthy industrialized nations.

And that $73 million payout? Hurricane Beryl caused nearly $1 billion in damage to Jamaica in 2024, just a year ago. Beryl missed the payout criteria, so Jamaica got nothing. So even when the insurance “works,” it’s inadequate.

This is what passes for “resilience” in 2025—private markets profit while fossil fuel companies face zero accountability. It’s important for us to understand this.

Whose Recovery?

Six weeks. That’s how long Jamaica’s Minister of Tourism says the tourism industry will take to reopen. The intentional deadline: December 15. Recovery cannot be left to chance, he said.

They’ve activated a Hurricane Melissa Recovery Task Force led by both government and private sector executives—the same team that handled pandemic recovery. The priorities: “rapid assessments, product rehabilitation, and service readiness across resorts, attractions, airports, and cruise ports.”

Notice the language: “Product rehabilitation.” Not community rehabilitation. Because while 72% of Jamaica is without power at this time, while people remain in shelters and rescue crews are still removing wreckage and looking for bodies, the national priority must also juggle tourism reopening.

Tourism accounts for roughly 30% of Jamaica’s GDP. The country literally cannot afford slow recovery. But what happens to the hundreds of tourism workers who’ve lost their homes in places like Savannah-La-Mar? They’ll rebuild the same fragile structures—zinc roofs and plywood walls for now—because there’s no alternative and rebuilding hurricane-resistant structures takes money and time, especially in a nation still bearing the economic weight of colonial extraction.

Next month the slogan will likely appear: Jamaica is open. That’s economic necessity. But the mega projects that were taking place pre-storm will continue, led by private developers: the kind that’s destroying mangroves (natural storm barriers) and offshore coral reefs, making future disasters even more harmful to communities.

Examples of Local Resilience

Even amid the wreckage, some communities are proving that local leadership and innovation make a difference.

In Accompong Town, a Maroon community in the heart of Jamaica’s Cockpit Country, Ambassador Anu Tafari Zion shared that their two Atmospheric Water Generators (AWG)—the only hurricane-proof system of its kind in the Caribbean—survived Hurricane Melissa intact.

Accompong’s units are powered by a solar system that was safely stored in reinforced containers before the storm—no fossil fuels, no grid dependency. The two containers of over 25K pounds each were actually lifted and shifted by Melissa but a last-minute added fence protected them from going over the hill, which would have crushed homes below.

For context: AWGs extract moisture directly from the air and convert it into clean drinking water—an off-grid solution that can be powered by solar energy and sustain communities when conventional systems collapse.

Now, the team plans to deliver clean drinking water to more than 10,000 people across Cockpit Country who were directly impacted, and to extend help to other parishes facing shortages. It’s an incredible example of Indigenous, community-minded preparedness.

Down on the south coast, Keith Wedderburn of Bluefields Organic Farm—which I toured pre-pandemic while it was still new, so I could include it in Rough Guide to Jamaica back in 2018—shared another glimpse of what resilience looks like on the ground.

“Before Hurricane Melissa made landfall, we took no chances—securing fuel, chainsaws, and key supplies in preparation for what we knew could be a long road ahead.
Now, in the wake of the storm’s devastation, those preparations are proving vital. With roads blocked, homes destroyed, and power still out in many areas, Bluefields Organic Farm has once again become a hub of action and hope.
Our team is using what we have—fuel, tools, and sheer determination—to help clear paths, support neighbours, and begin the process of rebuilding together.
We’re not waiting on help… we’re helping ourselves and others until more assistance arrives.”

These are the stories we should be amplifying.

Bluefields Organic Farm practices regenerative agriculture—restoring ecosystems and growing food with nature. This is real resilience: community knowledge, local systems, food sovereignty, and economic models that prioritize wellbeing over extraction. It already exists. It just needs support.

What Must be Said Out Loud

As Jamaican-British climate activist Mikaela Loach said this week, we must stop calling these recurring, megastorm events “natural disasters.” They’re not natural. They’re the direct outcome of a superheated planet. Melissa went from 70 mph to 140 mph in 24 hours because Caribbean ocean temperatures are hotter than average—driven by global heating and decades of political and corporate negligence.

And the corporations responsible face zero consequences while Jamaica, Haiti, Cuba, and the Dominican Republic bury their dead and rebuild with inadequate resources.

If we work in tourism, media, policy, finance—anything that touches the Caribbean—we have a responsibility to tell these stories honestly. To name the systems that cause these disasters. To stop celebrating band-aid solutions. To center Caribbean voices and support community-driven resilience.

Travel journalists must cover more than resort reopenings. Travel stories need to incorporate more than leisure.

So I’ve been urging everyone to make time to listen to the everyday Jamaicans who’ve been harmed and are currently sharing their stories—the farmers, the fishers, the teachers, the Maroon elders. Their voices document what a fossil-fuel-fueled climate disaster really looks like on the ground.

Their stories should make you sad, then outraged—a healthy emotion that will keep us holding accountable those who’ve driven this climate crisis.

Sources to Follow

Here are recommended local accounts that are documenting the human face of this disaster.

• TVJnews
• CVM News
• Jamaica Information Service
• Treasure Beach
• Photographer Adrian McDonald
• Chief Richard Currie, Accompong Town

And if you’re planning to visit Jamaica in the coming months when it reopens to tourism—GO. But go consciously. Choose locally-owned stays. Hire local guides. Understand what recovery really looks like for those who live there. When the government declares Jamaica is open, understand it’s economic necessity speaking, not full recovery. Bring supplies in an extra suitcase (check with your airline and NGOs on the ground), be patient, and spend time in communities where possible, without hindering ongoing local aid.

Ways to Help

1. Support trusted organizations already on the ground, including those I trust and have visited in Accompong Town, Bluefields. This list will be periodically updated.

• Food for the Poor Jamaica
• World Central Kitchen in Jamaica 
• Global Empowerment Mission 
• Accompong Town & Cockpit Country 
• A Google Doc compiling Fundraising Efforts for Treasure Beach
• Bluefields Organic Farm

2. Keep attention on recovery.

The headlines may fade, but we must keep sharing updates. Support small Jamaican businesses and local initiatives, and it’s better to purchase local supplies in Jamaica if you are able to do so.

3. Push for systemic change.

If you have connections in policy, finance, or tourism, use them. Push for climate finance, debt relief, and tourism models that build resilience instead of vulnerability.

4. Educate yourself.

Learn the science, the politics, and the human impact of the climate crisis. It’s all connected.

5. Subscribe to Tourism Lens Media

I cover stories mainstream travel media often won’t. Share this post or my YouTube channel where I also host a monthly podcast called “Places, People & Power.”

If you’re an NGO in the Caribbean and want to collaborate with me as an independent on-the-ground storyteller, please reach out.

The “land of wood and wata” will recover, but it shouldn’t have to keep rising from disasters it didn’t create. If you’re in affected areas and want to share your experience or have a lead for a story, my inbox is open.

One Love.

Three years ago, I kicked off Tourism Lens to share conscious travel storytelling, discuss the travel industry openly, and build a community of like-minded travelers, professionals and writers who care about mindful travel.

Life happened, and I spent the next three years reporting for Bloomberg Pursuits It’s where I also successfully pitched and authored Bloomberg News’ first conscious tourism column, the Better Travel Bureau.

This summer, I finally stepped away from the travel reporting grind to focus fully on the work I’ve always believed in most: helping ethical brands and storytellers dedicated to conscious tourism with insights, training and content that’s culturally grounded, equitable and drives transformation.

Why Conscious Travel Matters Now

As you may already know, over the years, I’ve reported from more than 25 countries, lived in eight—navigating cross-cultural living—and worked with tourism boards, cultural organizations, and global media.

What I’ve learned is as true today as it was even 10 years ago: travel and tourism remain all about people—and our choices ripple more powerfully today through communities, with impacts lasting generations.

Since 2020, the stakes are even higher, and conscious travel awareness more urgent than ever.

Overtourism, yes, but also corporations’ choices of profit over people and planet that are continuing for the most part. Take the latest example: Accelerating land dispossession and private takeovers in the Caribbean since the pandemic. It may not be “new”—but the pace is alarming and the consequences on cultural spaces tragic.

In this Tourism Lens podcast episode, I speak with the Jamaica Beach Birthright Environmental Movement (JaBBEM) about the fight for public beach access, the history behind restrictive laws, and what’s at stake for local communities. I am also working on a separate reported story about this.

Then there are the ongoing marketing campaigns that recycle tropes but leave consumers frustrated in their quest for truth.

In an era of shifting geopolitics, mass relocation, and a wave of digital nomads and retirees crossing borders but also facing pushback in major cities, understanding how to move and travel consciously isn’t optional—it’s become essential.

And yet, there are also positive players in this space and solutions worth amplifying. And there is work here that can help you on your mission to tell more conscious narratives that spark change and bring you influence. This is also where Tourism Lens Media comes in.

What You’ll Find Here

This space is for action, solutions and truth-telling. I’ll share:

• Honest takes about the challenges shaping tourism right now — from climate change to cultural erasure.
• Behind-the-scenes insights from my travels and reporting.
• Input on traveling or relocating ethically, and creating conscious travel content— in ways that create connection and spark change.

How We Can Work Together

In addition to articles and resources, I now work with destinations, conscious brand leaders, and cultural initiatives to tell stories that matter and stand out for the right reasons. My work blends journalism-level depth with industry and sustainability expertise.

Here’s a quick look at how we can collaborate:

• The Conscious Travel Storyteller Webinar – Now available: A comprehensive, interactive six-hour program this Fall for creators, journalists and small ethical brand entrepreneurs who want to learn to tell or elevate conscious tourism stories that resonate and drive change. 10 spots only, at an incredible beta price from now until September 1 only!
• Cultural Strategy & Narrative Development – Move beyond surface-level marketing and build stories rooted in authenticity.
• CEO Media Lab – 1:1 high-touch guidance for ethical brand CEOs and executives ready to lead with integrity and measurable impact (By application only).
• Multimedia Storytelling – including branded content, short-form documentary and editorial features that resonate and last.

Whether you’re a novice travel storyteller, small entrepreneur or a tourism board and ethical brand focused on sustainability, turning purposeful tourism into action becomes seamless.

Start Here

• Explore my culturally-grounded itineraries and conscious move guides in the Shop.
• Sign up for my free quarterly newsletter for insights from conscious tourism creatives and leaders.
• Work with me directly – From cultural strategy to multimedia storytelling, see how I help serious creatives, destinations and brands bring integrity and impact to their work.

Welcome or welcome back — let’s keep pushing for purpose and culture and stand for truth.