The Hashtag
#Tulum documented the Mexican beach town’s transformation from backpacker haven to ultra-Instagram influencer paradise—and the resulting gentrification, environmental destruction, and local resentment.
Origins
Tulum was a sleepy beach town near Mayan ruins. Then Instagram discovered it around 2015-2016. Suddenly, it was boho-chic Airstream hotels, cenote swimming, and beach clubs that cost $200 minimum spend.
What made it Instagram gold:
- Beachfront eco-resorts with “glamping” aesthetics
- Azulik’s birdnest-like structures over turquoise water
- Cenotes (natural sinkholes) perfect for ethereal photos
- Mayan ruins as backdrops
- “Spiritual wellness” retreats (yoga, ayahuasca, sound baths)
- No building taller than palm trees (enforced low-rise aesthetic)
Cultural Impact
Tulum became synonymous with:
- Wellness influencer culture
- Digital nomad playground
- Cryptocurrency bro hangout
- “Find yourself” tourism
- Expensive juice cleanses and cacao ceremonies
The dark side:
- Local Mayan communities displaced and priced out
- Water scarcity (aquifer depletion for resort pools and tourists)
- Sargassum seaweed crisis (2018-present) made beaches unusable
- Drug cartel violence (2021 shootings in tourist areas)
- Infrastructure collapse (sewage, trash, traffic with no city planning)
- Environmental destruction (deforestation, reef damage, cenote contamination)
- “Tulum Belly” (food poisoning from unregulated restaurants)
By 2022, Tulum had become parody:
- $30 green juices
- “Eco-resorts” destroying ecosystems
- Influencers in identical white flowing dresses at the same spots
- Gentrification disguised as “sustainable tourism”
- Locals working service jobs in a town they could no longer afford
COVID briefly emptied Tulum. Then it returned with vengeance as remote workers fled lockdowns for beach WiFi.