In my 26 years of life, I’ve celebrated many Black History Months. They usually involve the same books, historical figures, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. speeches, and Rosa Parks history lessons. Don’t get me wrong, those things are great… but when repeated multiple times, over multiple years, you can start to forget just how important and expansive Black history and Black culture truly are.
When I became a mom, I knew that Black History Month would be a major holiday in my household. While many people run toward the Valentine’s Day decor section in Target, I head straight for the Black History Month display. For me, Black History Month isn’t just a time to reflect on the past—it’s an opportunity to reimagine the present and shape the future.
This year, inspired by Elizabeth Tunstall’s Decolonizing Design: A Cultural Justice Guidebook, I’m transforming the way I celebrate Black History Month by reclaiming agency over my living spaces and embracing the power of decolonization. It’s about more than just rearranging furniture or hanging artwork—decolonizing my space is about creating environments that reflect the resilience and beauty of Black culture.
Here’s how I’m decolonizing my space
Resist aesthetics and lean into liberation
As an avid consumer of TikTok mom content, Pinterest-worthy decor, and current trend articles, it can be hard to discern what you truly love in design versus what culture tells you to love. Now, I love a good white kitchen with granite countertops as much as the next person, but upon closer examination of my style and preferences, I realized that many of the designs I thought I loved don’t actually reflect me or the rich culture I embody.
My first step in decolonizing my space was to resist aesthetics and trends and instead discover what truly makes my space feel liberating. Liberation in design means understanding that intersectionality in design, Blackness in design, Indigenous culture, and more are intricately associated with beauty and coexist with what it means to be “well-designed.” It entails going beyond the Eurocentric standard of white walls, clean lines, minimalism, and modern architecture and embracing the freedom to express through diverse cultural lenses.
The African diaspora contributes immensely to the beauty of space through vibrant colors, intricate patterns, expressive prints, thoughtful spacing, captivating art, and more. When I let go of the notion that being a good mom required a large house with clutterless beige rugs, my space began to feel courageous and inclusive. It was a revelation to realize how much my home could be an act of resistance when I began the journey of redesigning it to counter oppression and create healing.
Prioritize authenticity and cultural heritage
Growing up, I was often told that Black culture, Black heritage, and Black people weren’t the standard for beauty; we were deemed as “ugly,” “out of place,” or simply overlooked. But as I reassessed what I value in design and in my living space, I realized that there are countless cultural elements and aspects of my heritage that not only set the standard for beauty but elevate it as well. I started to ask myself three fundamental questions when approaching design:
1. Honoring diversity and depth
Does this piece pay homage to the diverse and impactful aspects of Black culture and heritage?
2. Personal resonance
Does this design resonate with my personal journey and experiences?
3. Nurturing identity
Does this space celebrate my heritage and pride and affirm my identity?
By centering these questions in my design choices, I’m creating a space truly designed for me. Each piece I choose displays the richness of our culture and the depth of our experiences.
When evaluating my current decor, contemplating new additions, or rearranging my space, these questions serve as a guide. In doing so, I not only create an environment that centers on self-affirmation but also extend an invitation for others to explore what it means to exist in a decolonized space. My home then becomes a sanctuary—a place where Blackness is not only celebrated but honored.
Create intergenerational connections
We have this ongoing joke in my family about my grandma’s knack for clutter. Every visit to her house ends with us leaving with a handful of items she insists on “getting rid of,” only to discover they’re pieces she’s passing down to us. While I used to find it slightly inconvenient, starting this journey of decolonization has shifted my perspective. I’ve begun integrating some of these intergenerational treasures into my home’s design. Admittedly, not everything fits, but it’s a privilege to incorporate pieces from different generations of my family into our daily lives.
Having multiple generations still alive in my family means my daughters will grow up surrounded by pieces with history and meaning. It’s not just about honoring our lineage; it’s about creating a living narrative where each artifact tells a story and sparks memories. I hope my daughters, in years to come, ask about these pieces and want to learn their significance. In this way, my grandmother and her legacy will continue to thrive within our home, even when she’s not physically present. For me, this is one of the most beautiful aspects of decolonizing my space.
Practice conscious consumption and ethical living
When I first started this decolonization journey, I thought I would have to go out and buy a lot of things and start from scratch, but I committed to making sure while I was decolonizing the decor and design of my space, I was also decolonizing how I spent my money to do it. Engaging in conscious consumption involves actively supporting Black-owned businesses, (not just during Black History Month) prioritizing products that uphold ethical labor practices, and reclaiming cultural narratives within our living spaces. By intentionally directing my purchasing power toward Black-owned enterprises, I am decolonizing my home and my wallet.
I realized that decolonizing my space didn’t mean getting rid of everything I own and starting from scratch, it meant critically examining the items already in my home and the values they represent. It’s about making intentional choices that reflect my commitment to embracing liberation and justice. Whether it’s investing in artwork by Black artists, seeking out furniture crafted by artisans who prioritize fair wages, or opting for textiles that celebrate my cultural heritage, every purchase becomes a deliberate act of resistance against systems of oppression.
Decolonizing my space isn’t just a one-time project; it’s an ongoing commitment to aligning my actions with my values. It’s about creating a home that not only reflects who I am but also honors the diverse narratives and experiences that shape our collective history. So, although, during Black History Month, it is so important to read the books, watch the documentaries, learn the history, and shift narratives, one of my daily acts of resistance exists within just living in my space. It could be a place that centers on White cultural norms, or it can be a space that embraces Black joy. I choose joy.
