Are Road-Tripping Women VanLifers the Second Wave of #MeToo?
My online quest to buy a camper van led me to the underground community of women living on the road and the YouTube influencers pushing the lifestyle and the "must-have" products.
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Cool mountain breezes. Lush greenery. Chirping birds. Comfy clothes. Hot coffee. Scrambled eggs with yesterday’s Apache trout for breakfast.
What’s not to like about getting away from it all and being surrounded by nature, even if it’s just for a few days?
I have been a camper all of my life. My happy place is somewhere in the woods next to a stream, where I can just enjoy the moment and … be here now.
Until it rains, and then I want to be somewhere else now.
Inclement weather can add hardship and mud to an otherwise fun trip. Sleeping in a tent in the pouring rain while you wonder if your parameter trenching will keep the mudslides and water out and if the rainfly’s seams with hold can cause sleepless nights and groggy days.
Many a night when the tent was whipping around in the wind and rain, I have dreamed of a camping vehicle with space for a bed. During my tenure in the Arizona Legislature, I bought Toyota Highlander Hybrid to make the weekly trips to Phoenix. By my retirement in January 2023, the Highlander had 226,000 miles, and it was time to shop for a new-to-me vehicle for road trips and tooling around Tucson. After two blustery tent camping trips in 2022, I was laser-focused on buying a van that I could sleep and travel in but would not be ridiculously large for in-town use.
Not only did I find a great minivan, I discovered an underground community of women living on the road fulltime or part-time as “nomads.”
Shopping Led Me to the #VanLife
For the women in my family, shopping was a team sport. Since women couldn’t play sports back then, we got the bonding and exhilaration of sport by hunting and bagging good deals at the mall. My Mom, Aunt Esther, Grandma Springer and Cousin Diane made up the core group of adventurous shoppers who took monthly excursions to far-flung malls and quaint gift shops at tourist traps for unique shopping experiences and a nice sit-down lunch. The group could easily grow to two car-fulls of women when myself and other cousins joined in. I have the snow globes, decorative plates and Longaberger baskets to prove it.
Given my family history, when I’m bored and looking for mindless diversion, I have been known to step into the vortex of online shopping. Can I blame this behavior on the swirling ads or the legacy of the pandemic shopping? I don’t necessarily buy a lot online, but I do a lot of window shopping and comparison shopping online.
For over a year, I have been casually searching for my dream vehicle — looking at SUVs, vans, minivans, campers, and tents that attach to vehicles.
During waves of the pandemic, I lived vicariously through other people’s road trip adventures. I loved watching Nancy and her partner kayaking, hiking and traveling with their little doggies across the country, up into New England, down across the Midwest with scenes from Northern Ohio, where I grew up. Because many people are still avoiding flying for multiple reasons, my friends’ road trips often linked events like weddings, graduations, high school reunions, and extended family gatherings with sightseeing. As I toiled in the Legislature, I followed everyone else’s adventures and resolved to do road trips in the future.
All of the cookie crumbs I dropped while window shopping online and Facebooking led me to the #VanLife and “nomad lifestyle” videos on YouTube and a whole new underground world, just beneath the surface.
Beyond Nomadland
Since the housing bubble burst, we have been reading stories about people who can’t find work in the towns where they live, who can’t afford to live near their work, or who lose their homes and end up on the road. The RV and van life “nomads” are seeking a low-cost lifestyle, seasonal employment and, for the over 60 crowd, perhaps one last adventure. The story of these modern day migrant workers was once told as a hardship story. Today, the nomad life is promoted on hundreds of YouTube channels as a freewheeling, no-strings-attached, off-the-grid lifestyle with minor inconveniences like showering behind a sheet at the end of your van in Quartzsite or pooping in a five-gallon bucket everyday and cleaning it up.
The award-winning 2020 movie Nomadland, with Frances McDormand, was based upon true stories gathered through interviews with nomads by journalist Jessica Bruder, who wrote the 2017 book by the same name. After the Wall Street crash (2008-09), the Great Recession and the subsequent housing crash, Bruder noticed the phenomenon of older Americans living on the road and eking out a living by traveling from place to place for work. Her book not only inspired the Nomadland movie, it spawned the documentary CamperForce about Amazon’s seasonal workforce recruited from traveling RV and van dwellers.
It’s no surprise that CamperForce started in 2008, when people were losing their jobs, their homes and their retirement funds in the Wall Street crash. On YouTube, the vanlifers are bubbly about getting seasonal employment in different Amazon warehouses and other catch-as-catch-can random jobs around the country. Unfortunately, when gas prices are high, it’s not economical to drive large vehicles to temporary jobs that pay $15/hour, if you’re lucky.
Amazon heavily promoted CamperForce, even at camping trade shows but quietly ended CamperForce in February 2023 by taking it off their website. They still hire seasonal workers, but no longer heavily promote working at Amazon warehouses to people living in their vehicles and other travelers. Although seasonal work at retail warehouses is handy for vanlifers, when transient people take these jobs local people are deprived of this work or over time.
Many van life YouTubers are also social media influencers and corporate affiliates who make extra money heavily promoting products and making referrals to retailers’ and manufacturers’ websites. Amazon and other big retailers like WalMart and Target are making bank on the “simple life” by employing chatty and down-home social media influencers.
On a recent trip to the Target in Midtown Tucson to buy bins for my minivan, I was flabbergasted to see an entire section of the store now dedicated to products that are heavily promoted by YouTube influencers — plastic bins of every imaginable size and shape, small metal and plastic shelves of different dimensions, tiny dressers, pillows, linens, cutesy décor, etc.
So, let me get this straight …
Corporate America sold many of these people junk mortgage loans, which Wall Street bankers bundled and gambled on the stock market.
When Wall Street speculation, fueled by deregulation, crashed the world economy, the US federal government bailed out the Wall Street banks but sold out Main Street (as Occupy educated us).
The “too-big-to-fail” banks proceeded to foreclose on millions of underwater home loans, take possession of the houses and push millions of Americans out of their homes and into financial ruin.
Now Corporate America generously offers the former homeowners and current nomads mountains of heavily promoted plastic crap and gadgets for their vans and $15/hour to wander around their warehouses for a 12-hour-shift if they have the gas money to get to the right warehouse. Such a deal.
Also, their former homes are now short-term rentals, another big money-maker for Corporate America and a losing proposition for renters, homebuyers, neighborhoods and municipalities.
But don’t worry. They’re not homeless transients. They’re free-living nomads who have shed the shackles of home mortgages and the hassles of homeownership.
Some fulltime vanlifers report budgets of as little as $800 per month. Most claim to be living on well below $2000 per month by: not owning any “sticks and bricks” (a house); living out of their vehicles; taking advantage of showers at cheap corporate gyms and public pools; enjoying air conditioning, a newspaper and the Internet at a local library; taking advantage of state and federal camping passes; and boondocking (ie, camping in free locations, including roughing it out on public lands or clandestinely sleeping in parked vehicles on city streets, in parking lots and in parks.)
To me, the movie Nomadland was a cautionary tale — the dark side of the “simple life on the road”. Economics pushed Fern, McDormand’s character, into the van life fulltime, as is the case with many who tell their stories on YouTube.
“Nomadland is a modern Grapes of Wrath, depicting the dystopian economic dispossession of an aging population for whom retirement is an out-of-reach dream,” writes Adrienne Westenfeld in Esquire.
The scenes of McDormand huddling in her van on freezing cold nights, waiting outside warehouses for work, sleeping by the side of the road in the glow of the billboard and constantly dealing with repairs, weather and a cast of characters she meets along the way, including Bob Wells, YouTuber and veteran van-dweller.
Sliding Down the #VanLife Rabbit Hole
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YouTube’s algorithm introduced me to Wells when I was shopping for vans and investigating van conversions. For the most part, his videos portray the van life in a more positive light than Nomadland.
Wells’ YouTube channel CheapRVLiving features van life tips and lengthy interviews with an endless stream of van-dwellers, mostly women. From his channel, I branched out to Lulu’s Way, Adventuring with Amanda , RVA Hiker Girl and others. I became obsessed with van life videos by and about women living on their own in anything from a car or small van to a boxy old camper. Who are these women? Why are they doing this? Does fulltime van life actually work for them? Are they living Lulu’s cheery, highly decorated van life or Fern’s dark struggle? Are they making big money as influencers or are they living on the edge?
Many divorced or widowed older women, who have spent decades married to their now-departed husbands, have never had the freedom to make their own decisions. For them, van life is momentous.
Many of the van-dwelling YouTubers and interviewees are divorced, widowed or otherwise no longer partnered women over 40 — like Fern in Nomadland, many are over 60. They have turned to the van life because of its affordability, flexibility and freedom. Many divorced or widowed older women, who have spent decades married to their now-departed husbands, have never had the freedom to make their own decisions. For them, van life is momentous. For the first time in their lives, no one is standing at the ready to second-guess their decisions, gaslight them or otherwise squash their ideas and plans. They want freedom from bad relationships, from abuse, from financial hardship, from the obligations of a house and marriage, and from being cooped up in a house for years — perhaps with a crumbling marriage.
I see the allure of getting away from it all and road-tripping in a camper van, with a few motels or KOAs (Kampgrounds of America) along the route for a periodic refresh, but fulltime in a minivan or smaller vehicle seems really rough. A classic camper van or a tricked-out Mercedes or RAM delivery van might work 24/7/365 for a while. But who can afford the $70,000 price tag for a cool van with all of the comforts of home, including the ability to stand up? (I’m sure Corporate America can help out with a reverse mortgage or other creative financing to get you into that pricy van. What could go wrong?)
Besides the influencers promoting products, helpful YouTubers have posted loads of great how-to videos that show how they have made everything from bed platforms to built-in camp kitchens to bug screens. YouTubers also have detailed pros-and-cons videos on specific vehicles and other RV/camping equipment. I bought the van I did and built a bed/kitchen platform with a pull-out table based upon recommendations, specifications and plans from YouTubers. The marketing model works.
Every once in a while a “van life sucks” video will pop up, and Wells has some cautionary videos about realistic expectations of van life. For the most part, his and other videos paint a rosy picture of an outdoorsy but quirky lifestyle, living cheaply in a tiny space on wheels.
Are social media and Corporate America normalizing being houseless and living out of a vehicle by glorifying the freedom-loving nomad lifestyle?
‘Simple Life’ Has a Lot to Do with Online Shopping
It is no surprise that I “found” the van life YouTube influencers while I was shopping online. That’s the business model. Although Wells and others talk about living the “simple life off the grid” on $2000 per month or less, the van life influencer YouTube channels rely heavily on the promotion of consumerism. Many YouTubers are affiliated with Amazon, Walmart, Target, or miscellaneous individual manufacturers of camping and outdoor living gear. Some try remote computer work. These types of jobs require solid electricity and Internet, which is why there are so many videos about batteries and solar panels for boondocking while on the Internet.
You’ll often hear: “I got all of this on [Amazon] [Walmart] [Target]! They’re the best! Links are below.”
I’ve even heard Wells prompt the interviewee, “And you got all of this on Amazon, right?” and the vanlifer replies, “Oh, yes! I bought everything on Amazon.” Some of the influencers Amazon have lists of what to buy for well-appointed van or RV. Adventuring with Amanda is always featuring a cutesy decorative doo-dads and gadgets from Target, but she doesn’t show how she fits all that stuff into a her minivan. There are plenty of websites and influencers out there to tell you what you have to have for your van life rig.
Besides the van, I’ve invested about $1200 into my road-tripping minivan, with the two big ticket items being a small Jackery battery and a tent that attaches to the van, which will give me a two-room set-up. I still need a mattress and a cooler. I made privacy curtains for the van and plan to make bug screens like Lulu’s. For the camp kitchen, I’m using my Grandfather’s chuck box, which holds all of the housewares and sits on the back end of the bed platform.
You’re Not ‘Off-the-Grid’ when You’re on the Internet
My van build is simplistic compared to what is promoted by YouTube influencers. I don’t have solar panels, a refrigerator, multiple big batteries, a water filtration system, loads of electronic gadgets to enable vlogging in the boondocks, heating and AC (other that the vehicle’s), and complicated wiring to make all of it work.
All that fancy engineering and expense doesn’t look like the simple life to me. Vanlifers are definitely not “off-the-grid” when they are continuously connected to the Internet. If one of your primary sources income is from being a social media influencer or a remote computer worker, your devices have to be charged, and a solid Internet connection is a must.
My Mom and Dad were van campers in the 1970s-90s. They had an extended wheelbase Ford Econoline van that they ordered empty except for the two front seats from the nearby Lorain Ford Plant. They tricked it out with a narrow single bed on each side, privacy curtains and bed cushions made by Mom, under-bed storage, a collapsible table, a little TV, a ham radio set-up and a porta-pottie. Today, Mom and Dad would have a YouTube channel and an L.L. Bean affiliate contract.
Many van and RV dwellers are living at least part-time on undeveloped land without running water, electricity or even much shade in Arizona, but they are still on the grid and under corporate surveillance as long as they have one device on the Internet. They don’t have the amenities of “the grid,” but Big Brother is still watching their every move and making helpful suggestions along the way.
In my opinion, vanlifers have an over-reliance on an uninterrupted stream of electricity and Internet connectivity. When we stopped at KOAs on our 2022 road trips, there were vans, campers and motorhomes of all shapes and sizes, with a few deluxe, tricked out Mercedes or RAM delivery van style vehicles. The fancier the vans, the less we saw of the people who owned them. All of us were at the KOA for the electricity, the wi-fi, provisions and the clean showers and restrooms. The people in the deluxe vans were always plugged in and humming.
It is interesting to note that men and women vanlifers design their nomad rigs differently. After all, men and women have different priorities. The guys’ vehicles usually have a bed, a miniature entertainment center with a TV, and a tool shed in their vehicles, along with the basics. One guy, who was a traveling carpenter, had a panel van with a full workshop inside and his tools neatly displayed on the walls. On one long wall were his living quarters. In addition to a bed, the women often have cutesy design elements, handmade items (like curtains, bug screens and bed linens from home) and creative storage solutions using custom built-ins or “no-build” items from their homes or from retailers.
Women VanLifers Over 60: The New Wave of #MeToo
I met my vanlife neighbor one morning when she was rearranging bins in her nomad rig and I was walking my dog. After talking with Joanne at length and seeing what she had done with her minivan, without changing it or building anything in, I was so impressed that I bought the same vehicle. In the past year, Joanne has done three one-month road trips, which included some boondocking but also occasional motels or short-term rentals to freshen up and recharge. (This is my style.)
Including Joanne and Nancy, I have four single women friends and two couples who have done multiple extended road trips alone or with dogs, an occasional cat but no men in tow. Joanne and Sharon have done extensive traveling alone, including some boondocking. All of my women friends who are living the van/RV life are part timers. Although they have “sticks and bricks” waiting for them back home, they love the freedom to go where they want, when they want, and to make their own choices. Both have remarked at the overwhelming number of women vanlifers on the road fulltime or part-time and the sisterhood they have found out in the boondocks.
In my opinion, there is a societal shift happening. For decades, women my age, who grew up in the 1960s-70s, have been oppressed by societal norms, by men, by Corporate America, by employers, by religion, by the media, by the government, by discrimination, by poverty … and we’re done with it.
In our youth, we fought for the right to control our own bodies, for universal access to contraception and abortion, for equal pay for equal work, for peace, for the Equal Rights Amendment, and for equal participation in government, in religion and in the workplace.
What gains we made back then are being stripped away by a politicized judiciary and by ultra-conservative governors and Legislators in Republican-controlled states like Arizona.
With state-level laws dictating forced pregnancy and limiting access to basic reproductive healthcare, a woman’s rights change when she crosses state line in the United States of America. Our country is backsliding and becoming more oppressive. Social media is full of vicious attacks women that normalize oppression.
While some state Legislatures are rabidly attacking women’s rights, the federal government has proved to be inept at protecting them. Thirty-eight states ratified the ERA. Congress, where are you? The sandwich generation of women who are taking care of children and elders would have been helped significantly by President Biden’s Build Back Better Plan. The Women’s Health Protection Act would have protected access to abortion nationwide. Both of these worthwhile initiatives were stopped by 100% of the Republican Senators + two Democratic Senators Kyrsten Sinema of Arizona and Joe Manchin of West Virginia. They chose to cling to the filibuster, a relic of racism, rather than pass laws that would have significantly helped millions of American women and their families.
Older women are worried about futures of our children, grandchildren and planet, and we’ve got fight left in us. Politicians worried about campaign donations. It’s no wonder why some women are choosing to get away from all of this and live on the road … at least for a while.
I am one of those long-oppressed older women who have been longing to breathe free … for a long time. The stress of dealing with the bullying, the craziness and the anti-woman legislation in Arizona Legislature is reason enough to make a person seek solitude in the woods. Add divorce on top of that, and you see why I’m looking at van life videos. Don’t worry. I’m not planning to start “livin’ in a van down by the river” — or at least not fulltime.
Retired and rent poor. Wondering should we have never sold our home and gone on the road for almost 10 years. Now even older we contemplating a Wayfarer redo on a van and just going back to a Nomadic lifestyle. Life in a patio home after such an adventurous life has pros and cons but will we make the right call. Housing is a huge hurdle and I'd rather have both options at the same time. Time to decide, and we'll see what happens in November. Great reads here. Thxu!