HOME SWEET HOME

 HOME

My first home was one of dysfunction… I would escape to my room, to solitude. I explored the land as if it was brand new, crawling up trees in the lil bit of woods we had, until my dad cut it all down. There was a room to relax for my dad, and one for ‘us girls,’ and only a little space created for the family altogether. We ate in front of the TV after my parents worked long hours, a habit that would become a comfort and necessity for me. Sitting ALL TOGETHER at the table was rare, starting with a prayer none of us were comfortable with or knew how to recite, we only mentioned God on special occasions, I think more out of fear than anything, to show we were “raised right.” As I grew into a bitter angsty teenager and my brother aggravated me more everyday, I would never be home. I ran away with friends, lived in their homes on the weekend, and treated the house as an occasional spot to return to, a point of safety where I could grab my belongings and go out again. My room there started with a princess bed and stuffed animals, went through a celebrity/boyband phase, and ended up empty and confused- I cannot really recall my room before leaving other than my beloved radio/CD player, many books and magazines, and a beautiful brown desk that harbored all my creative things. The house was sold, 14 years of my life disappearing, and I moved some things to my dad's new apartment before coming to college. The dorms were my new home, for that was where all my belongings were.

The dorm room was only semi-comfortable when I lived by myself~ my friends and I would escape there with our loud laughter and shenanigans, filled with excitement of a city around us… there was not enough space, or people, to make it home. I was not my self, I was usually out with classes, work, or who knows what, and only that stale-ass bed brought me comfort when I would pass out at night. That room was one of isolation and loneliness, reeking of insecurities and unknown purpose.

Moving out of the dorms into an EVEN SMALLER room brought me salvation. Even though our belongings outnumbered the square footage, that small box Muskan and I moved into for the summer brought me joy, maybe not peace, but fun! Love! Exploration! A clubhouse, hangout, hideout! It started out simple and over time collected bits and scraps of color, our homemade art and picture print-outs… the table in between our two beds gathered evidence of the lives we led: beer bottles, a piece, dinner plates, earrings, ash, incense, paper scraps, etc. We both worked, preparing for my upcoming absence for the next semester, smoked our lungs to dirt, went on random Tinder dates (unfortunately), and ran around the city like young people without a care. The hair on our heads would be chaotically cut, paint covered our bodies, and I began to care less and less about what others thought. The summer heat drained my thoughts as I would bike back home at night, listening to IGOR, knowing my bones became one with the city and its hectic pace. Packing up, leaving that room empty and free from any record we were ever there, left me with overwhelming wistfulness, the urge to stop time and play all those moments back. We felt so powerful, so young, so fresh with hope, so eager to explore, looking to know ourselves.

I will leave out my moments abroad (where I could not even stay in the homestay and apartment like I was supposed to… I am sensing a theme with my escapism) and when I lived with others in the apartment before my true family got there… those moments contained chaos and dullness, people who heard me out yet did not know me truly, and where I lived remained simply that, not some larger-than-life feeling of belonging, of comfort, of home. That feeling returned when we renewed the lease, with my other roommate bringing in Lex, and Muskan and I shared a room yet again. While it took some time for us to get used to one another, the apartment already began to generate warmth, as we personalized its walls, refreshed the furniture, and breathed life into its mundane energy. Muskan and I knew of Lex’s photography at the time, and as the pandemic was underway, we found ways to be creative inside and with each other. Motormouth did a series of masked photoshoots, and we all explored the beauty of painting canvases (thus creating a whole wall full of them). We hotboxed our bathroom, watched copious amounts of reality tv like Love Island, borrowed each others’ clothes, and came into our queerness. We visited the trail nearby, avoided campus at all costs, quit/started jobs, and navigated new ideas of safety as we mostly only saw each other. The small space became a safehaven for the gays (as cis-men visited less and less…) and we hosted small celebrations, for birthdays and graduation. I grew plants along the windowsill that received so much love from the sun, producing herbs and veggies and beautiful freshness. We created such a sacred energy that it felt wrong when people entered who did not understand us or how we express ourselves. Not everything was perfect, yet I experienced the true INNOVATION of home, how in a time we were so ostracized from others and our families, we chose to become familiar with ourselves and each other. We did not wait until school or work ended (as it never does) to begin our lives, to begin to feel peaceful, blissful, and grateful for our surroundings. Not everything was perfect, yet the apartment was a breath of fresh air, solace amidst chaos, and the birth of community and support through untraditional means. From this point, we could only grow.

NOW… to the house! Our home! What feels like years has really only been one year, a fraction of our lifetimes, yet its impact feels as the ring of a tree, the ace of pentacles card~ prosperous beginnings. While housing is very short of accessible in D.C., we really put in so much effort and manifesting and work into making sure we were blessed with the house (even as we are now forced to leave). The home feels like a tower, a cabin, a beautiful fantasy of past and future. On the tour, we were amazed by its size, space, and energy… You walk into a welcoming hallway, and look up up up to the spiraling wood staircase, the walls covered with art. Our living room is a comfortable place to stay, our bed and breakfast, where queers would visit as we share our lives and experiences together~ it is a mutual appreciation for love, safety, and belonging, the trust that we show up for each other as we are able. We bonded over shows, played Tekken, chatted into the ethers of the night… one room over, we make beautiful creations: crafts, clothes, pieces, photoshoots, paintings, objects and abstractions of BLESSINGS and DIVINATION, the ideas we are called to. What some would use as a dining room we use as another type of convening space; the people come together to collaborate and relate and imagine new realities, as we dream dream dream of liberation. It becomes tangible when we are together. The bathroom on the first floor features random art with paint jars on the sink, as we use everything around us, and it shows a nice view of the backyard and its swing. The (arguably) best room on the first floor is the warm, magical kitchen~

A beautiful island full of spices and pots and pans,

a fridge ideally full of produce and leftovers, juice and oat milk,

The GAS stove frying tofu, creating cha, making rice, toasting bread,

The messy ass sink oozing life, of living, of good meals shared and devoured,

Our pantry of snacks and flour, of medicine and cookies and too many bags,

(honorable mentions to: vegan chicken nuggets, late night brownies, paneer and paratha, beautiful smoothies, tacos all the time, rare nights when the alcohol was touched)

I could write an ode for the backyard alone, but those that existed there know of its enchantment. Let us remember the flowers, the trees and their seasons, the weeds and tall grass and moments of winter where we enjoyed the snow… let us recall the events and the bonding and the land where we showcased our art, food, love… the times Wolgang would run around, fetch the stick, bark at Ed and the squirrels… some photoshoots, campfires, art markets, earth day, the dating event, times at the picnic table. 

I felt five and twenty and sixty there all at once, living out all versions of myself. I was a child chasing the pup, climbing the trees, I was a youth laughing with my besties, my comrades, I was grown, a grandparent, tending to my yard and sitting in a sun bath. TO OUR YARD, I love you and rest there in my dreams, a safe space in my mind.

Our rooms are portals, worlds of their own. I return home, to then travel to a state of serenity, an otherworldly abode. I think the feeling of our rooms are not well encompassed in words, but I try nonetheless.

~

Our fullest expression,

The visions of our childhoods

Brought to LOVELY LIFE.

Plants and pets,

Posters and windows filling us with light.

Muskan with their tiny tea pots, altar, makeup mirror,

Me with my fairy wonderland and CD player,

Azad with their art, books, and desk,

Lex with their lil corner, living room, cozy attic.

Weaving between them

As a maze

As Alice in Wonderland

Mine,

Sometimes solitude, in shelter

Other times

A garden, a treehouse~

Take a sleep in the woods

And the fairies shall watch over.

~

We went through our tribulations as well, the hard work and effort it takes to authentically live as queers in their twenties. Mistakes were made, hard conversations and honesty kept us strong. We have grown many years mentally in this short amount of time, but maybe that’s just the trans experience. I see growth from a month ago, from months before, as we are ever changing versions of ourselves. While capitalism left us exhausted of surviving, moments of purpose shone through as a light warming our hearts, our souls. 

I was able to work work work and enjoy life, to center liberation in all that we do, thanks to the strong, creative, astonishing, magical people around me ~ queerness to me is freeing yourself of all limitations to truly feel comfortable (if not empowered) to exist, to then support one another with such a strength, to fight for all to discover this power in completing accepting oneself. While the house was a beautiful physical sphere, it was special in the way it encompassed this other universe where we could all feel the community alight in our bones; we feel, share, and accept love. Not all is perfection, and sometimes we may falter in our abilities, yet there are people who will be there, honest and true, to support you at the end of the day. I personally could not stand as strong and confident and hopeful in my queerness, in my purpose to share and create, in life, if it were not for this home. I could write a novel trying to articulate such a transforming energy… instead I share it as I can, in moments, things, people, memories, and encourage others to trust in this magic. It appears small at first, gleaming around you, until you believe it exists and it grows all around. Finding people who see this magic will only create more <3