Free by the Caribbean Sea

Don't Let Cultural Karenism Follow You Abroad

Photo by Meritt Thomas on Unsplash

"No shoes, no shirt, no service!"

It’s not a thing in Belize.

I almost always walk around barefoot, often shirtless, just wearing essentially a bathing suit.

No one gives me a second glance.

No one cares.

Why should they?

TikTok and the Real Land of the Free

So, I posted about it on TikTok, and it blew up: nearly 10,000 views in two days, with dozens of comments and hundreds of likes. Belizeans flocked to it. They showered me with positive affirmation:

“Welcome home, bro.”

“No shoes, no shirt, no problem.”

“You’re home, bro, do your thing😂🤙🏾”

But the comments also leaned heavily towards my unassuming dialogue on freedom:

“Welcome to true freedom 🙏”

“😁happy you're enjoying my beautiful and blessed country ❤️🙏 land of the free our jewel.....”

“Ur welcome, ma bwoy, it’s called Land of the free by the Caribbean Sea for a reason 🇧🇿🤜🏿🤛🏿”

“It’s the real land of the free, u better Belize it 💯”

A New Definition of Freedom

It didn’t take long after moving here to realize that Belizeans love their freedom. I quickly recognized it as a subtle cultural meme that hung in the air, ubiquitous as the smell of roadside BBQ chicken. Now, after three years here, I’ve come to understand that the Belizean people take their freedom very seriously, and the flood of comments on the post solidified this point for me.

One comment in particular stood out; it captured, with clarity and heart, how many locals view true freedom in today’s world:

“@Richard Young: The word freedom carries a different meaning to different people...its not always about money...the little things we do here that we often take for granted, we can't do in most other countries, you would be arrested/fined/ticketed...so people like him [me, SimoD] who comes from a strict first world country, come here and experience what they see as true freedom, they take full advantage, caz they can't do that in their own home country without repercussions. They see the freedoms we enjoy and want to experience that too. For us, things like this are the norm, we don't think anything of it until one day, it gets taken away by laws being passed which are influenced by first world countries and their expats.”

And he’s right. When I compare the casual freedoms here to what's happening in places like the U.S., where states are actively rolling back rights, surveilling citizens, and legislating control over everyday decisions, it becomes even clearer why so many people are looking for a different life abroad. You can go to Belize, or somewhere similar, and breathe a sigh of relief. No one’s watching you, waiting to ticket you for walking barefoot, or ready to deny you entry because you aren’t wearing a shirt. In parts of the so-called “free world,” it often feels like you can barely sneeze without some Karen throwing a hissy fit.

But now, I can walk around as I please without fuss. Like the Belizean nationals, I’ve come to see this as an indicator of freedom; a flavor of which you can only taste in a small, beachside community outside the developed world.

Barefoot Politics

Being barefoot and shirtless whenever I want is incredibly freeing and something I’ve unexpectedly grown to appreciate while living here. Words can’t express how liberating it truly is to be able to walk around just as you are.

I used to think “no shoes, no shirt, no service” was about hygiene. But it isn’t; it’s about control. The phrase emerged in the ‘60s and ‘70s as a way for proto-Karens to keep hippies, surfers, and other counterculture types out of their establishments. It was a passive-aggressive power move; properness weaponized to establish privilege. It wasn’t about protecting customers’ health; it was about preserving a particular “social pecking order.”

While the haircut has changed, the instinct remains the same. The modern Karen doesn’t just live in your neighbourhood; sometimes, she shows up at your beach bar halfway through retirement, trying to change the menu.

An Unwelcome Guest

The responses I received on TikTok make sense: the Belizeans love their freedom. They recognize something in it that is distinct from what is available in their developed neighours. However, freedom isn’t just appreciated here; the people protect it, which explains why some Belizeans have begun to push back against the presence of certain foreigners in their country.

I used to wonder why locals sometimes seemed resistant to people like me, until my wife, Lili, offered an analogy that put everything into perspective. She said:

Imagine inviting guests over to your home for dinner, only to have them complain about everything?

“I don’t like what you’ve cooked and how you’ve cooked it; at my house, we do it differently and it's way better.”

“I don’t like the way you’ve set the table. Here, this way makes more sense.”

“At my house, we have better routines and rituals, you should do it like this…”

Then they take over cooking and rearrange your home to their liking.

If this happened in your home, you would probably tell them to get the f*ck out.

The above scenario is what many foreigners do when they land in a new country. Instead of expressing gratitude for the hospitality of their host country and accepting its ways and customs—warts, inefficiencies, and annoyances and all—they try to impose their ways from back home. So it makes sense when some locals tell foreigners to “go home.”

Freedom ≠ Safety

The TikTok response got me thinking a lot about how different things are in Belize from my home country of Canada. Over the past few years, I’ve come to realize how the reigning in of fundamental freedoms, many of them small and subtle, starts to taint a society’s ability to feel truly free.

I often promote my Substack posts on Facebook, and I regularly hear from the Canadian and American diaspora abroad. Many of them comment on the quiet erosion of freedoms back home, and how they’ve found those freedoms again in places like Belize.¹ One friend, Amber, left this message on a recent post:

“I left 4 years ago due to declining freedoms and a constant feeling of oppression and control by both an overreaching government and other Canadians, I became rather out of synch with. Nothing was "fun" or happy anymore. Police lurking on hiking trails, on the water, hiding everywhere in black cars, hoping to intimidate and fine you for some new stupid law, of which there are so many they will find something! I left when Canadians began begging daddy government for tougher distracted driving laws and when it actually became illegal to sip a coffee while driving a car or to chat ”distracted” to the person beside you. No more fun parties - everything was about safety and nonstop expense. I came to believe you can not have a free society when you expect a government to keep you safe. Other places, like Belize, seem to ask for self-responsibility, respect, and community alignment. Do right, mind your business, don't bring your bullshit here and don't be a dick. I am responsible for my own safety. We couldn't net a lot of money in Canada despite working huge hours and having a busy business - the government took it (to keep me safe), lol... no thanks. I had constant high anxiety in Canada, being out of synch with a country that I remember as once being free and happy - when the plane left for Belize, I felt a true peace wash over me....I would never ever go back.... My life is happy now and free. Nothing I wish to change or impose on this beautiful country. My two cents.”

I agree with her. There is a degree of personal responsibility present here that isn’t in Canada. Everyone back home expects Big Brother to take care of them. So, the government imposes innumerable restrictions in the name of safety, yet people fail to realize that there is a subtle trade-off: your freedom.²

Recently, I commented on Elizabeth Silleck La Rue’s post, saying I believe Central America is currently one of the safest places in the world; not because there’s no danger, but because people here generally respect boundaries. And now, I’d add: it’s also one of the freest. You’re not under constant watch. You’re not being managed, surveyed, or sanitized. You’re just left to live. Belizeans understand this about their country and are fiercely protective of it.

While Belize has its issues, a lack of freedom isn't one of them.

An Unspoken Rule

Here in Belize, the government doesn’t micromanage its people as it does in Canada and other parts of the world. This is partly because it doesn’t have the means to do so, but also because it's a part of their culture and way of life. Live and let live is a thriving yet silent mantra, and people appreciate it.

From what I can tell, people here live by an unspoken rule: respect your neighbours’ way of life, and they’ll respect yours.³ It’s a quiet, mutual understanding: “Yoh noh trouble me, ah noh trouble you.”

And it works. And it’s great.

But not everyone gets it.

Exported Expectations

I’ve come to realize that one of the most disruptive exports of the developed world isn’t wealth or privilege but expectation. The expectation that everything should be a certain way, that service should come quickly, that money can solve all problems, and that rules can be manipulated to satisfy personal comfort. This mindset isn’t always rooted in bad intentions, but it often carries selfishness, a lack of awareness, and a need for control that overrides others’ freedoms.

And that’s where the problems begin. This mentality clashes with the local laissez-faire attitude. The imported mindset starts to show itself, trying to “fix” what was never broken. Then come the signs: “No shoes, no shirt, no service!” Not because the locals asked for them, but because the newcomers didn’t like what they saw.

And before we even realize it, a Karen has been transplanted into a new culture.

Cultural Contagions

After thinking all of this through, something dawned on me: There are no Belizean “Karens” or their male counterparts, “Kevins.” Any Karen/Kevin that I know here is a foreigner and what I’ve come to refer to as “angry expats”. Now, I’m sure this doesn't need explaining, but just in case, a “Karen” or “Kevin” is:

A pejorative term for a person who weaponizes entitlement in everyday situations, often demanding special treatment, rigidly enforcing rules that benefit them, or escalating minor inconveniences into full-blown dramas. They are known for treating service workers, neighbours, or strangers as if they exist solely to accommodate their needs. Their energy is unmistakable: performative outrage, misplaced superiority, and a firm belief that the world should bend to their will.

Then I realized: People from developed countries are the global Karens and Kevins. Think about it: so many foreigners who relocate abroad bring with them an incessant need to impose themselves on others. Many disparage local establishments because they don't meet their standards. What Karens and Kevins often fail to understand is that these impositions undermine the personal freedoms of the local populace, just as they do in their home countries, as Amber portrayed her experience of living in Canada.

I’m now beginning to see what local populations the world over see when they look at imposing foreigners; they’re fuckin’ Karens! And who likes a Karen? Nobody! And, like @Richard Young hints at the end of his comment, the Karen attitude is what soils the relationship between locals and foreigners.

It’s an all-too-common scenario: a Karen puts up a fuss to fulfill their selfish need, a policy changes, and a small freedom is taken away from an entire people. If this happens repeatedly, it can change everything within a country.

When we impose ourselves on our host country, we become a Cultural Karen—or worse, a Colonial Kevin—who undermines the personal freedoms of those around them, and stains the cultural fabric that makes a place feel unique and free.

For the proud Belizeans who see their country as the jewel of the Caribbean, I don’t doubt that many of us are seen as a plague of Karenitis when we land on their shores. Our Kevinosis tarnishes the gem and corrodes the delicate prongs that hold the jewel in place. It's not something they can brush off or ignore; it's a direct threat to their sovereignty, autonomy, and cultural identity. It's a direct assault on their way of life.

That’s some serious shit.

Common Ground

There was a time when I was worried about the locals. I could sense a rumbling of discontent rising and wondered if it would result in an outward clash with the foreigners here.

Honestly, a pushback is still coming. When people love something deeply, they defend it, especially when it starts to change without their consent. But the response to my recent TikTok post alleviated some of my worries and gave me hope. It reminded me that respect still means something here. It also showed me that many locals recognize when a foreigner genuinely gets it; when someone shows up curious, not corrective.

I think they saw that in me. They saw that I appreciate what they love about their country, and that I don’t want to see it changed.

So, to anyone arriving fresh: remember, no place is perfect. But just because something is unfamiliar or imperfect doesn’t mean it needs fixing. That instinct—to clean, optimize, or improve—can be the very thing that ruins what made a place feel free in the first place.

Dirty Freedom

After all, true freedom isn’t always clean. It isn’t always efficient. Sometimes it’s barefoot, unkempt, or gloriously imperfect. That makes it unique. And that’s precisely why it’s worth protecting.

While I’ve focused on Belize here, this isn’t just about one place. It’s about how we show up anywhere. It doesn’t matter where you’re from or where in the world you land; nobody wants a Karen around.

PS. My apologies to anyone named Karen who is pleasant and chill (

Karen Gordon

, I'm thinking of you here). I'm sorry this meme has co-opted your namesake.

If you enjoy my writing, you might also like the Belize Foreigner Blog, the Lili Art Blog, or my award-receiving book Home in Good Hands. If you'd like to support this Substack and help me keep creating stories and essays about life abroad, consider subscribing, sharing, or making a small donation. And to those who already have—thank you. Your support means the world.

Thanks for reading!

1. Specifically Belize, as that's where I'm plugged in most

2. The irony is that you’re no safer in Canada than you are in Belize. Crime is rising in my home country; far more than in my neighbourhood here. I’m not saying crime doesn’t exist in Belize, but it’s noticeably less prevalent.

3. The only exception here would be, unfortunately, the acceptance of LGBTQ+ community members. Belize is a very Christian nation, after all.