MORE THAN HALFWAY TO SOMEWHERE
JOHN BURBIDGE
Wordswallah
$14.99
187 pages

In his autobiographical novel More Than Halfway to Somewhere, John Burbidge shares travel stories from his exciting life working for global organizations. While glamorous and full of adventure on the surface, Burbidge's novel also provides valuable insight into the ways colonization has shaped the globe, and how settler colonialism still shapes the mindset of white travelers who have enough privilege to take cultural vacations. Unfortunately for Burbidge, he often provides this insight unwittingly, in his unreflective or privileged commentary.

Burbidge's introduction to the novel highlights an experience of alienation: "I was a stranger in a strange land, trying hard to fit in when so clearly I didn't. This would become a defining motif in my life. Indeed, it always had been." Here Burbidge seems to comment on the fact that he often finds himself, a white Australian man, traveling to countries decimated by colonization.

But the feeling of alienation is actually limited to Burbidge's own experiences as a Gay man at home and abroad, ostracized because of his sexuality. This combination — insight into his social alienation as a Gay man plus ignorance of his white privilege — makes for an unsettling read.

Burbidge describes the ways travel liberated him, allowing him the freedom to explore his sexuality while he explored other cultures, ones where gender roles were not treated rigidly. Of India, he writes, "It is acceptable for young males to show affection for one another in public, in contrast to the macho Australia in which I grew up." This observation is highly insensitive, as it does not acknowledge the role colonization played in creating "macho Australia." Burbidge had spent several years working with the Aboriginal people there, but he still regarded Australia's culture as that of its white European settlers alone, ignoring the contributions of Aboriginal culture. Likewise, when observing the freely affectionate men in India, Burbidge seems unaware that India is marked in other ways by the same colonialism as Australia.

Burbidge's descriptions of Indigenous people and people of color show the appalling scope of his privilege, and his inability to understand that this is indicative of the ways he uses his sexuality to cast himself in the role of victim. When talking about the Indigenous people of Australia's history of institutionalization, their cultural genocide, and the lasting affects it has had on Indigenous people, he writes, "Most of the population [had] to relocate to the nearby town, where they succumbed to alcohol abuse, violence and prostitution." There is no acknowledgment of the responsibility white Australians had in creating the fate of the Aboriginal people; rather, he describes their conditions as if they issued from a flaw of moral character.

Burbidge continually uses culturally insensitive language when referring to the BIPOC communities he encounters throughout his travels. In the first chapter, he describes his first experiences in America while working in a largely Black community in Chicago. He uses the phrase "ghetto" to describe the neighborhoods Black people live in. Burbidge focuses the narrative on himself as a white savior, helping to "transform the image of ghetto kids as a 'lost cause' into one in which they could take care of their lives and carve out a positive future." He believes that the people who face systemic racism and generational poverty are responsible for improving the conditions they were born into. Tellingly, he describes his work as "helping the world's poor pull themselves out of poverty."

Burbidge's travel stories read like the Facebook posts of Christian white girls who take mission vacations to Black and Brown countries, use little BIPOC children as props in their photos, and then leave, doing no real work to help communities that have been struggling to recover after hundreds of years of colonial damage. He describes the people he encounters with a jovial sentiment but uses no critical thinking to question why they have come to live the way they do.

In the second chapter, Burbidge recounts a story of his experiences hitchhiking across southern Africa. He makes no acknowledgement of the privilege his gender alone gives him, allowing him to travel across foreign lands in the company of strangers, never fearing sexual assault, rape, or being sold into sex slavery. In fact, he even acknowledges the existence of the sex industry, briefly writing of "Zambia's bustling sex industry, fueled by the constant flow of truck drivers and migratory agricultural workers. Girls as young as 12 offered their services, often in exchange for food or a bar of soap." No emotion, no recognition, not even a moment to pause and wonder what it must be like for these children to sell their bodies in order to survive. Instead, he continues on his journey, coming to a plantation-style home where his white travel companion blithely accepts the ministrations of his servant, a Black woman. She does not speak; her stories are told by the white men who converse together. She exists as a background character, as all the main stories revolve around Burbidge and his white audacity.

Throughout the novel, a weight seems to be hanging over Burbidge when he encounters strangers and new friends. He often wonders what they think of him, or what they would think of him if they knew about his sexuality, but in those seemingly abject or insecure moments, readers see the flaws in his privileged and egotistical thinking.

Yes, to be Gay in many of these countries is very hard. No matter where you are in the world, it is a genuine struggle to have to hide a part of yourself, to feel like you won't be loved or accepted for who you are. But it's also a privilege to be able to hide a part of yourself. Burbidge can pass as straight and thus appear like any other white male traveler. He can hitchhike, he can work any job he wants, he can talk to whomever he wants and be taken seriously. He can write a whole book about his experience without once thinking about the women, the Trans folks, and the people of color he has passed by, and how all the racial, gender, and sexuality biases and "isms" that must be overcome are a product of colonialism, a system that Burbidge's travels proves is still very much alive and flourishing today.

John Burbidge is a writer and traveler who lives with his husband in Washington State. More Than Halfway to Somewhere is his sixth book.