The concept of “home” is often sold to us as a finite point reached the moment the keys are placed in your hand. We are constantly inundated with images of immaculate, instantly staged rooms that look more like sterile museum exhibits than places where real, multifaceted life actually happens. Over the weekend, as my partner, Greg, celebrated a birthday on Friday and we hosted our very first gathering in our townhouse on Saturday, I was reminded that home is actually a living, breathing process.

Having just moved into this space in April, we are still deeply entrenched in the transition period where our day-to-day functional needs are met, but our ultimate aesthetic is still coming together. In the rush to prep for a house full of loved ones, I realized that creating an authentic sanctuary requires a balance of intention, reverence, and the willingness to sit with the discomfort of the unfinished. I had to consciously reject the urge to buy filler items just to make things look “done,” choosing instead to let our environment evolve naturally alongside our family.

The Beauty of the Unfinished

While wrestling with the bare expanses of our new walls, I found myself reading Sobonfu Somé’s The Spirit of Intimacy, a text on Dagara relationship wisdom that completely shifted my perspective on our environment. Somé writes extensively about how a partnership is a living entity with its own unique spirit, and how that spirit requires a dedicated, intentional container to thrive. Reading her words made me realize that rushing to decorate with mass-produced prints just to cover up the wall is not an act of spirit. Instead, it centers a Western obsession with immediate perfection over the slow, meaningful work of building a sacred space. I looked at our blank walls and decided they deserved to tell a real story, opting to wait until we can invest in the original Black art that truly moves us. Embracing the bareness became an acknowledgment that our home is an unfolding narrative that cannot be rushed, and that sitting with empty spaces is far better than filling them with things that hold no soul or story.

Anchors of the Millennial Afro Creative

Instead of aiming for the generic minimalism that dominates contemporary home trends, my partner and I have embraced a distinct design identity that I can only describe as Millennial Afro Creative. It is a space that clearly announces that creatives—and our creative kids—live here, blending functional modern living with soulful, artistic touches. We brought this identity to life in our living room through intentional anchors, most notably a peacock chair we hunted down on Facebook Marketplace for $100. For generations, the peacock chair has functioned as an absolute staple and cultural throne in the Black community, a regal centerpiece featured in countless family photo albums. By simply swapping in a $20 cushion cover and adding a cute throw pillow, we turned this marketplace find into a focal point that bridges old-school nostalgia with our current lives. We grounded the rest of the room in rich comfort, wrapping our couch in striking sage green and black print sofa covers and layering it with contrasting, textured blankets and pillows to ensure the entire family has a cozy spot to land.

Rhythms, Rituals, and Regional Roots

To honor the spirit of our partnership and where we come from, we infused the townhome with regional nods and sensory rituals that ground us daily. Framed photographs of Washington, D.C.’s historic Republic Theater and Harlem’s legendary Apollo Theater hang proudly to celebrate the distinct, soulful energies of both cities. We paired these historical markers with modern ambiance, integrating LED lighting throughout the living room to add a comforting glow. This lighting anchors our favorite corner of the house: a cozy music nook featuring a bookshelf, our record player, and a “Now Playing” stand for our vinyl. On the same shelf, three of our cameras sit on display, while three separate incense holders are scattered across the room. We keep our favorite sticks tucked safely inside a beautiful box from India.

Honoring the Spirit of the Village

The ultimate thesis of Somé’s work is that intimacy cannot survive in a nuclear bubble. It requires the active presence, protection, and joy of a community to act as a container for the relationship. Our Saturday gathering became the literal manifestation of that village philosophy, transforming our physical environment into a site of communal renewal. We filled the house with family, close friends, and an eclectic, cross-generational vinyl soundtrack that shifted from Odyssey’s “Native New Yorker”—a necessary anthem celebrating a fresh Knicks victory—to Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On, classic Cambodian pop, A Tribe Called Quest, and the smooth contemporary neo-soul. In the dining room, guests gathered under a custom wall collage celebrating iconic dining scenes from (mostly) Black film and TV. The dining table became a food hub as we laid out a spread of beef sirloin sliders, seasoned chicken wings, shrimp salad, and elaborate charcuterie boards, alongside a chocolate banana Old Fashioned and traditional sorrel mixed with overproof rum.

As the night matured under the warm glow of the lights, the gathering naturally fractured into the most beautiful kind of communal subplots. I looked up from my conversation and realized that all of the men present had held up in the kitchen, deep in conversation and laughing over drinks, while the women had claimed the living room, filling the space with storytelling about womanhood and spirited debates over what pairings go best with brie cheese. Guests left that evening carrying a sensory piece of our home with them: a custom, gender-neutral fragrance named “Trill,” which my partner Greg created in collaboration with Zen in a Jar. Watching loved ones completely relax in our space and infuse it with their energy made me realize that our home’s spirit is fed by the people we let inside it. Taking in the lingering scent of incense, the laughter echoing from the kitchen, and the beautiful, intentional Black touches holding the rooms together, I simply thought, I love us, and I knew that this townhome is exactly where our village is meant to grow.

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