Kristin Romey: Actionable Empathy in Exploration and Storytelling

Kristin Romey’s career as an explorer, archaeologist, and award-winning journalist shows that trust, leadership, and truth in storytelling are essential forms of kindness. A former Senior Writer and Editor for National Geographic and Explorers Club Fellow, Kristin has spent decades leading expeditions where survival often hinged on empathy and human connection. Kristin’s curiosity for history and adventure began during childhood in Germany, where her family lived for several years. Weekend trips to castles and museums laid the foundation for a career built on discovery.

At college, Kristin started with an undergraduate degree in Greek while running the campus radio station, initially considering a music industry career. As she came upon graduation her interests changed. “I didn't want to work in the music industry,” she recalled. “What am I going to do with a degree in ancient Greek?” Then an archaeologist visited her college and gave a talk about the site they were working on and how they needed volunteers. “So, I got certified in scuba diving at the local Y and went over there after college to volunteer for a summer. I absolutely loved it.” She even returned for a second season and then applied to grad school. “It just went from there.”

Straight out of graduate school, Kristin joined Archaeology Magazine. She spearheaded a shift toward having professional writers tell archaeologists’ stories rather than scholars writing about themselves. “I realized people love archaeology, and it's not just about finding artifacts. They want to know where you sleep, how you eat, how you even get permission to dig,” she explained. Later, she moved to National Geographic. Her editorial philosophy emphasized kindness through accuracy: protecting scientists from sensationalism, fact-checking every detail, and ensuring researchers’ voices were honored. “They are doing remarkable things,” Kristin said. “They just don’t know how to explain it to the public. That’s why people like me are there—to be the go-between.”

Kristin’s expeditions illustrate how kindness and trust define survival. She shared about her work in cenotes. “I used to work in Yucatan diving in cenotes. This is where the ancient Maya either used these water-filled sinkholes for domestic use (washing dishes and drinking), or for human sacrificial offerings. We would trek an hour and a half with steel tanks and get to a clearing and there would be a little hole in the ground, no bigger than your shoulder width. We would be lowered down by rope 30 feet into this underwater cavern where the water hits the surface, and then gear would be lowered down. I thought, if there's any moment when I had more trust in another human being, it was barefoot Dionisio from the local Maya village, who ran the ropes for the project. It's kindness in the sense that it's trust. I never felt like they were going to walk away and leave me down in the middle of a Mexican sinkhole.” She added, “There was an immediate level of kindness and respect with the whole group that came together. It doesn't matter if you're a PhD student from Harvard, a local Maya tour guide, or a beach-bum diver—we were all in this together.”

However, she also shared another side. “I have to admit that in many ways, I've looked at kindness as a form of weakness during my career, mostly because I was a woman in a male-dominated field.” She recounted one of the first times that she went diving during grad school on a expedition in Crimea. Her team eked out a campsite halfway up a mountain and had to hike down with their dive gear every day because the budget for the entire summer was $2,000 for 10 people. She was the only woman diving, while others cooked, took notes, or drew. “It caused a bit of a problem, because they were told ‘women don't dive,’ and then I show up. I was conscious of how I was representing them at the same time that I was trying to hold my own as a very young woman against the big macho guys. You have to prove your mettle somehow, and kindness sometimes, for me, especially on expedition, could be seen as weakness. When you're doing something like diving, you don't want a weak partner next to you. That drove me very often to be just very direct, instead of taking the time to figure out how I should be kind.”

In a crisis, human connection can be what keeps us from making a bad situation worse. While excavating a harbor in Israel, a boating accident nearly severed Kristin’s foot. “I thought I lost my foot,” she recalled. Taken by ambulance to a local hospital, she was unable to get a flight for two days and was released with no painkillers, no wheelchair, and a cast up over her knee. “My friends from the expedition literally carried me. They met me at the hospital in a van with two cases of Carlsberg beer. They carried me around Tel Aviv for two days, fed me beer, and made sure I was okay until I got on that plane. That kind of kindness… that situation could have gone in so many ways—and we're still all close friends today.”

Kristin also led an underwater scientific expedition in Kyrgyzstan, one of the few underwater excavations in the nation’s history. She emphasized cultural humility and preparation: “Do your homework… make your presence in their country as enjoyable and respectful as possible.” These efforts built trust and enabled archaeological breakthroughs.

“Kindness to me, is actionable empathy.”

Kristin Romey is an explorer, journalist, and storyteller. Her life’s work demonstrates that kindness builds trust, honors truth, and connects humanity across borders and disciplines. Keep an eye out for more interviews.