vefuaprince

Place vs Space

December 12, 2024
by vefuaprince

An art piece hangs on my wall. It is a graphic rendering of the famous photo of Rosa Parks seated at the front of a city bus. The bottom is filled with text: TAKE UP SPACE—in all caps. The command taking note of Parks’ life-changing refusal to “stay in her place.” Instead, she moved. She changed places. In so doing, she took up space.

Place is bounded. Space is unbounded. Understanding this distinction matters because of the way they operate. As Henri Lefebvre explains, space is not simply a void waiting to be filled by a fertile presence. Space wields power. Lefebvre says, “Power’s message is invariably confused—deliberately so; dissemination is necessarily part of any message from power.” Place, too, is conflicted.

I, dare say like a majority of humans, spend a lot of time trying to make myself at home in this world. Even at home, I feel ill-at-ease these days. But why? Is the world really less safe today than it was when we were dreaming of “joy” and “hope”? Or is it more safe for those who have been longing for by-gone-days of a once great nation?

We should all spend time thinking about the ways that we inhabit and move around in the world. And about the structures we set in place. And about why they seem so necessary.

work

6 Ways to Make Housework More Visible

December 4, 2024
by vefuaprince

How many times have you run through the house cleaning furiously ahead of the imminent arrival of a visitor? At least the rooms that they enter must be tolerably neat (if not clean), lest you be judged!

I remember, as a graduate student with two children under three, my house being a complete disaster. Only the bathroom and the front room were reasonably kept. There was absolutely no way for me to effectively manage two toddlers, write a dissertation, and keep a house tidy. I was determined to finish my dissertation. I refused to neglect the children. So the housekeeping would have to wait… indefinitely. You know what? It did. And it’s still right here waiting for me.

The main problem with housework is that it largely exists inside the private space of our homes and outside the public marketplace. Yet, we are compelled to do it. It’s supposed to get done but no one is supposed to notice us doing it. I call FOUL! Folks need to know who’s doing this work!

I’ve spent some time thinking about this matter. Here are 6 ways to make work at home more visible:

Pay attention: Getting value from any work starts by paying attention. Sure it’s a metaphor since no cash changes hands but as the old expression goes—time is money. Attention takes time. So, in effect, taking time to notice things costs you. But since you are already taking the time to do household chores without remuneration, why not clip a bit of that time off the chores to notice what that work entails?
Make a list: Write a list of the housework required to maintain your home. Go through every room and write down what needs to be done on a regular basis to keep that space. Don’t forget the yard and outside spaces. The list should state the task and who is performing it as well as how often and how long it takes. Then share the list with the family living there. Post it in a common area. Or share it electronically in a way that the list remains visible and can be kept up to date.
Don’t do it: This one might feel counterintuitive but sometimes the best way for something to be noticed is in its absence. Folks can take a clean bathroom or clean kitchen for granted. Even if the kitchen sink overflows with dirty dishes, I do not assume that it will disrupt everyone’s sensibilities. Many people seem perfectly at peace living in squaller. Or at least not disturbed enough by messiness to tend to the cleaning themselves. One of the most refreshing things a person overwhelmed by doing work for which they feel unappreciated is for them to experience the relief of not having to do it. So let go of the reins for a while, and don’t beat yourself up when you do. Kick back and let the dust be while you take a break. I assure you, the mop will be waiting for you regardless, even if someone else takes up the slack.
Find a middle ground: It doesn’t have to be all or none. Stick to the chores that give you the most benefit, whether that benefit comes in the form of personal satisfaction, practicality, or acknowledgement. Perhaps just do a few of the more critical chores, while allowing other tasks to suffer a bit of inattention.
Recognize the work done by others: Even if it feels like no one at home is doing any of the work but you, don’t do to others as has been done to you. Someone picked up a rake and piled the leaves. Someone put the fork in the sink, instead of in the garbage along with the paper plate. Someone may have even taken a load of clothes out of the washing machine without being reminded. Paying attention helps you to notice how often you look past other people’s invisible labor, too. Trust me, despite how it seems, it’s not just you.
Ask for help: I come from slaves. My parents were born in the Jim Crow South and they parented in that ol’ school Bill Cosby I-brought-you-into-this-world-I’ll-take-you-out style. My brothers and I did what we were told. Back then, we thought only white children got to ask Why? and if we dared ask, because I said so, was a completely adequate way to shut down further discussion. But this is a new generation, which calls for new strategies. My youngest son, in particular, is resistant to demands—he would have made an awful slave. Conversely, he seems completely unable to resist a request for help. Whenever I find an additional chore needing to be done, and I would like for him to do it, I simply tell him that I need his help and then explain why. Kids feel appreciated, rather than obligated, because they are choosing to be helpful.

work

Exhibit P: I can still paint walls

February 3, 2024
by vefuaprince

I have painted every wall in my house at least once. I have repainted most of them since the onset of the COVID 19 pandemic. It began with the kitchen, which got a necessary remodeling in 2020 because the cabinets were made from a composite material that had reached the end of its days. If I bent to retrieve a spray bottle from under the sink, the left cabinet door would collapse like a woman overcome. While nearby, another door looked on drowsily, like a drunken sailor balancing against his mate. Above the cabinets, an empty bulkhead laid claim to turf it had no intention of putting to good use. Instead, it forced the cabinets to prostrate, while it impotently stood its ground. The dishwasher leaked. The refrigerator was marred. The microwave tripped the breaker if I opened the door while it was still running. The kitchen needed a lot of work.

All of it felt suddenly unbearably urgent, being at home as we were at that time. While the pandemic lurked outside my door, my house became more orderly, more beautiful. And only the pace at which the transformation occurred, revealed the frantic workings of my mind. I measured. I sketched. I identified suppliers. I designed the look and feel and function of the kitchen I wanted my kitchen to be. I had learned so much from my father while growing up. In the past, I would work with my husband to tackle such projects. But after 27 years, he had “moved on”— that’s what he told me—and I no longer felt confident enough to try a project as ambitious as a kitchen remodel alone. So, I hired a contractor to do the majority of the work. But I decided that I could still paint the walls.

Painting a wall satisfied my need to see some tangible outcome from my efforts. Much of the work that I do feels abstract. If you ask me what I do, I’ll never mention the work I do at home. I’ll say that I am a professor of literature and culture, which means that I get paid to engage often brilliant young minds as we read, write, and grapple with a range of ideas. At the end of a semester, I feel spent. Nevertheless, I usually have only a hazy notion of what has come of my efforts. Sometimes it is years before even one student out of the hundreds who take my classes returns to drop an email or to send a handwritten note of thanks or reflection.

My dentist, it turns out, happens to be the father of one my earliest students. He called her when we discovered the connection. He put her on speaker-phone and the way she said my name reflected the rough edges of my eager early years of teaching. Then her tone softened as she began to recount the lessons she took away from my classroom. She credited my spirited demands with her ability to publish several books over the years.

I won’t even mention that time I encountered another student, who had become a nurse and remembered me fondly, as I attempted to keep my hinder regions covered by a thin hospital gown. Happenstances I have had over the years.

Generally, despite the university’s insistence on measurable outcomes, my work as a professor does not yield immediate, obvious results. When I paint a wall, even if I hate the way things turn out (as was the case with a couple of dubious color and style choices during my recent remodeling), the physicality of the work presents itself clearly as evidence of what has been done. The wall was one color; now it is another color. I remember the pride with which my oldest son beat his chest when I discovered crayon drawings on a wall. He declared, “I did that!” When I paint a wall, that is how I feel. Painting a wall satiates that 3 year old child inside of me who still seeks affirmation.

Author: <span>vefuaprince</span>

Place vs Space

6 Ways to Make Housework More Visible

Exhibit P: I can still paint walls