Interior Race Theory Is a Creative Way to Decolonize Our Homes

When we talk about diversity in design and architecture, there’s often a call for decolonizing the space. Everyone is fully aware that the landscape of the field needs to change, but what about rebuilding the foundation? In 2021, Aaron Betsky wrote a piece for Architect Magazine about teaching architecture through a critical race theory lens. “We cannot turn away from the fact that many of the structures we hold up as examples, like Thomas Jefferson’s Monticello, were instruments of oppression, rape, and forced labor, and that even what we think of as neutral models, in whatever style, were the built affirmation of wealth built on violence,” he writes. “What we also must recognize is that the forms we think of as ‘good’ architecture, from the layout of our houses and offices to the white columns that festoon classical buildings, cement the culture of whiteness, based on European models, in stone, concrete, wood, glass, and steel.”

The academic framework for critical race theory was first introduced in the 1970s as a way of understanding the relationship between racism and public policy through the lens of the American legal system. The intellectual movement examines how the fragments of these socially constructed institutions have been used to perpetuate race-based oppression on a social, political, cultural, lingual, and economic level. Now, the subject is under attack in classrooms across the United States based on claims that it’s a dangerous and divisive discourse.

While you might think that this concept doesn’t apply to life at home, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Although our homes serve as safe spaces for us to retreat from the chaos of the world, interiors are a direct reflection of our points of view. I have previously touched on this issue when I unpacked how the cottagecore trend signaled a shift toward a mentality that I described as “colonizercore”—the commodification of this whitewashed aesthetic has opened the door for romanticizing colonialism while erasing the historical narrative of BIPOC communities in America.

Last year, Jacquelyn Ogorchukwu published an essay on the website for her brand Making the Body a Home about a new concept she describes as “interior race theory.” As she outlines in the proposal, we can creatively resist structures of domination within the home by challenging ourselves to think about the ways in which politics are embedded into the built environment and encouraging more “racial wellness” within the spaces that we create—especially with regards to the objects that we curate. 

The idea for interior race theory stemmed from Jacquelyn’s experiences as a Black woman in spaces dominated by whiteness and the many instances where she found herself asking, “What would it look like to come back to a space that felt safe?” As she further interrogated this question, Jacquelyn thought about how this perspective could be applied to design. “The design discipline is viewed as something that's very race neutral; there’s always the lack of intersectional thinking,” she says, wondering, “How are factors such as race or gender intersecting with the design space, and how can we utilize those ways of thinking to create spaces that are resisting harmful, cultural [biases]?”

After reading bell hooks’ essay “Homeplace: A Site of Resistance,” Jacquelyn started digging deeper into hooks’ philosophies around creating intimate spaces that help people deal with the hostility of racial oppression and decompress from the trauma of being dehumanized—hooks often spoke about the importance of homeplace in community care. In an ideal world, all spaces would function as places for “restoration, remembrance, and resistance,” as Jacquelyn explains it. This is what ultimately inspired the creative to combine her interests in racial well-being, interior design, and material culture to further examine how the objects we fill our interiors with inform our racialized identities and how we feel. 

“It’s this idea that we can stimulate racial wellness in our homes through objects that we’re interacting with and use in our daily lives, such as furniture, decor, or homeware,” she explains. “What’s really interesting about it is it can be helpful for communities of color who are obviously experiencing racism and need spaces to restore themselves, but it could also be helpful for white folks who benefit from racism and need spaces to unlearn [that].” 

Jacquelyn attributes this ongoing absence of cultural competency to a lack of sensitivity, pointing out how some people still decorate their homes with racist objects such as mammy jars, colonial busts, war memorabilia, and Confederate flags. The intent behind the practice of interior race theory is to radicalize the disciplines of design and architecture by challenging people to think more critically about the home as an extension of self and how we represent ourselves. “What you fill your home with can also condition you to hold [certain] values,” Jacquelyn explains. For instance, “The use of the color white has been weaponized to symbolize purity…. There’s a lot of ways that this theory can deconstruct conservative values that really align with whiteness.”

Colors and lighting can be used to make people feel a certain way, but Jacquelyn argues that these decisions are not usually made with intersectionality in mind. Most designers, she believes, aren’t contemplating the nuances of what wellness looks like from the point of view of “folks who are either experiencing oppression or benefiting from oppression.” In the process of designing a space, she wants more people to think about how their home might influence the behaviors of others and consider what values they are trying to instill in the people that inhabit or visit this domestic environment. Jacquelyn notes how something as simple as the style of a dining table can enforce certain ideas within a space—a circular table could symbolize more community-oriented values, while rectangular shapes might represent patriarchal ideals (i.e. the man sits at the head).

In terms of how to decolonize our own homes, Jacquelyn suggests starting by learning how the everyday objects that we interact with play a role in our domestic lives and influence our behavior. For her, a multidisciplinary artist with a background in social welfare and user experience design, this has meant figuring out how to design products that integrate a liberatory approach in a way that doesn’t feel forced, whether it’s a throw blanket or a comb. (She uses the black fist afro-pick as an example of an empowering tool that has helped Black people feel more pride in their hair, which has been the subject of discrimination for centuries.) “Even though people aren’t thinking deeply about it, these things really do have an impact on us,” she says. “Beyond ensuring that you have books talking about racial justice, how can all these different parts of the home carry this liberational message?”

Through the lens of interior race theory, Jacquelyn hopes more people will start viewing their belongings as “living, breathing things that we’re in relationship with, as opposed to being inanimate objects that are just there.” At the moment, she’s focused on making interactive products that help stimulate racial wellness—notepads, magnets, notebooks, blankets, textiles, etc. Jacquelyn is also eager to collaborate with lifestyle brands to design homeware as a tool for resistance. “When it comes to architecture and interior design practice, we focus heavily on visual sensibility and aren’t really thinking about how people can learn in different ways,” she concludes. “I’m interested in creating objects that are able to reach people in the ways that they learn best.”