The Overrated Promise of Queer Influencer Trips

a man taking a picture of the sunset with a camera

I see them everywhere: smiling influencers selling once-in-a-lifetime trips to bucket list destinations, where you’ll get to meet them and build instant community with fellow trip mates. What they don’t mention is, their queer influencer trips are almost always pre-packaged itineraries, designed by a third party that knows nothing about gay and lesbian travelers.

All the influencer does is select a generic trip from a list of options, sell spots to their audience, and walk away with a fat paycheck and commission for every spot sold.ย 

When influencers call these โ€œtransformational journeys,โ€ what they really mean is: transformational for their bank account.

How Most Influencer Trips Work

If you’ve ever stopped the scroll on a post or reel promoting a queer influencer trip, you might be wondering how it really works.

The promise of these trips is appealing โ€“ LGBTQ group tours take all the work out of planning trips, and people who like the same influencer probably get along, right? Plus, their posts always look so inviting…

But hereโ€™s how those queer influencer trips all over your FYP really work:

  1. You pay thousands of dollars for a group trip that doesnโ€™t include airfare. 
  2. Meals are often limited to hotel buffets and whateverโ€™s cheapest to provide. 
  3. Alcohol? That’s extra.ย 
  4. You’ll share a room with a stranger.
  5. Forget about queer walking tours or exploring the queer nightlife scene. The itinerary was scraped from a listicle of country highlights, not curated for gay and lesbian travelers.
  6. Oh, and your guide is said influencer. When it comes to being LGBTQ+ they’re for sure an expert, but the local culture or history? Forget it. They picked a place they want to travel to; they made no claims to understand it. 

Any of the value-adds โ€“ exploring insider spots and enjoying authentic meals, learning about the culture, personally connecting with local queer people and the place you’re visiting โ€“ you can forget about.ย 


And that’s if the trip even happens. 

There are no refunds with TrovaTrips, which means if the trip is a no-go for any reason โ€“ like if they cancel it or can’t fill the slots โ€“ travelers lose out on what they paid.

The TrovaTripsย BBB pageย is full of complaints from people who didn’t read the fine print before they booked and lost out on their vacation budget.ย 

Those Trova deals always seemed shady to me, but I chalked it up to being an introvert. Forced proximity to random strangers gives me hives, and most of my group travel experiences have been poor.ย 

Sure, it could be different if I joined a lesbian group trip, but why test the theory when trip planning is how I relax?

So when I found myself on a press trip with some queer influencers who were using TrovaTrip as part of their LGBTQ travel platform, I put aside my skepticism to hear them out.ย 

What did they like about Trova Trip? And how were the trips, anyway?

They were only too eager to tell me.

These influencers liked the ease of not having to plan all the details. Just sell spots and show up.

But they also liked connecting with their audience. They found value in going to a beautiful location and bonding with people they’d never have met otherwise. They enjoyed the opportunity to be themselves, out and proud, in a big queer group.

Sure, they’d been a bit skeptical about it when offering their first influencer vacation. But it had gone so well they were preparing to do another one, to the same place they’d visited before.

Gay men playing with a ball on the beach

The Promise of Influencer-Led Tours

I plan my own trips because I love to. And I understand that most people don’t. 

People love group tours because the logistics are taken care of. 

You take a seat and relax, while a local guide explains the culture in bite-sized chunks. A couple times a day, you get off the bus and wander about, perhaps have some free time.ย 

You can order a drink with lunch because you’re on vacation and you’re not driving, so why not live a little? 

You don’t have to find anything or plan or book excursions in advance, it’s all done for you.

Back on the bus, you relax until you roll up to your hotel, where another meal awaits. 

Your luggage is loaded on the bus, unloaded and whisked to your room while you check in and perhaps take a swim. 

Woman in white bathing suit sitting by the swimming pool with her feet in the water.

Then there’s the queer community aspect.ย 

The chance to share experiences with people who โ€œget it,โ€ including that influencer you’ve always looked up to. 

The opportunity to be part of something bigger than yourself.

To learn and grow and shine, and walk away at the end of it with ten travel friends and incredible stories. 

I get it. It’s appealing. 

But under the influencer cookie-cutter model, these things arenโ€™t guaranteed.

That โ€œcommunityโ€ might just be whoever can afford the buy-in.

The โ€œexpertโ€ host might be seeing the destination for the first time.ย 

The grift isn’t just limited to Trova. 

Years ago, someone I worked at a fancy restaurant with led a food tour to a country they’d never visited. I’m talking Nat Geo style, “experience the wonder of ___ through their eyes, tasting alongside them” kind of tour.

Fair if they were an expert in this culture’s food or had traveled there a dozen times before, building up relationships with local culinary experts, but they weren’t. In any way.ย 

Influencer Scam Warning Signs

Influencer trips tend to be cookie-cutter. Once you learn the scam warning signs, you’ll spot them everywhere:

  • They’ve never been there, or they’ve been there once โ€“ย Because the best trips come from years of connection, not Google searches or third parties that DGAF about queer community.ย 
  • The itinerary looks like it was scraped from a listicle –ย If it looks like an AI-ideated listicle gussied up by an editorial internal and published on a formerly reputable travel mag’s website, it probably is.ย 
  • You can find the exact same itinerary all over the internet – With TrovaTrip, the same itinerary is literally offered by dozens of other content creators. With other influencer trips, you’ll have to google around to find out. Bottom line if there’s no uniqueness, what are they bringing? Because trust me, you’re paying for it. 
  • The inclusivity feels forced –ย Whether it’s nights at the gay club or queer walking tours that dive deep on LGBTQ history, a queer led trip should be pretty queer. If inclusivity feels like it’s painted on as a desperate way to differentiate or worse, if they brag about things that are hostile to LGBTQ+ lives, like thatย UK LGBTQ tour operator that fangirled over HP, stay away.
A group of diverse women smiling and taking a selfie on a sunny beach day, enjoying the moment together.

How to Spot Thoughtful, Organized-With-Care Queer Influencer Trips

There are LGBTQ travel influencers out there organizing thoughtful, well-curated trips to places they know well.ย 

They’re not using shallow, clone-a-trip tools like Trova. 

They’re doing it themselves or in partnership with deep-rooted, inclusive people. 

They’re approaching every aspect of the trip with intention to create the desired vibe, attract the people who get it, and send a message to those who don’t get it of “hey, this isn’t for you.” 

They’re building in cultural sensitivity and local knowledge at every level โ€“ and many of them are creating empowering opportunities for marginalized people in the destination country in the process. 

So if that’s the sort of influencer-led trip you’re thirsty for, here are the green signs to book queer influencer trips with confidence:ย 

They employ local guides and support marginalized communities – Because every trip should benefit the people who actually live there!ย 

The itinerary goes deep – The trip takes you beyond the highlights, adding in excursions that you would never have come up with on your own. Or with a Google search. Or by asking an AI. While I love independent travel and can never see myself giving it up, I’d gladly pay for a creator-led tour of a bucket list destination that adds the sort of value I’m talking about. Picture exploring queer India with a local guide that takes you to activists, artists, and community spaces youโ€™d never find on your own, while adding in dreads day trips to tea farms or veg cooking classes. 

And if you know someone who leads that sort of tour, hmu! I really want to go to India… 

They’ve got insider knowledge and receipts to prove it – Ideally, the influencer will live in the area they’re leading a trip to, but that isn’t always possible. A second-best substitute is deep experience from multiple repeat journeys to that place. 

Here’s an example of the kind of insight I’m talking about: Yulia Denisyuk is so passionate about Jordan travel that she dedicated a season of her travel podcast to the show, she regularly writes about visiting Jordan for mainstream travel publications, and she’s spent dedicated time in the country exploring on her own and building up connections.

So when you travel to Jordan with Yulia, you’re benefitting from her deep research, connections, and exploration. 

I’m not an affiliate, I’m saying this because I respect the care and attention Yulia brings to her trips, and her travel writing.

For a queer example, I’m watching what Aisha Shaibu-Lenoir is doing next.

Aisha runs Moonlight Experiences, which offers queer nightlight tours in European cities, centering QTPOC-led spaces.

I talked to Aisha for my upcoming book on queer travel, and she mentioned some group tours that are currently in the works.

These will be small group experiences to the kind of places queer travelers don’t always feel welcome, designed using Aisha’s deep network of connections to places she knows well.

If what you’re looking for is a tour that will help you explore with confidence, in the company of other queer people, with LGBTQ+ history and culture woven in, then you might want to wait for those tours, too.

Two people riding on camels in the desert

Bottom line

If you see a โ€œqueer adventureโ€ that feels suspiciously generic, skips over local LGBTQIA spaces, or is happening in a destination thatโ€™s brand-new to the host, ask yourself if you’ll be joining a community or buying a ticket to someone elseโ€™s marketing campaign?