🪑 Freeing Our Spaces, Freeing Our Minds: The Hidden Power of Colonial Design

 

How Colonial Design Keeps Us Spiritually Bound — and How to Break Free

Have you ever looked at your furniture and asked — what story is it telling?

Most of us don’t. We view our home’s interior as a personal statement, shaped by taste, convenience, or trends. But what if our homes are silently reinforcing the very colonial values we’re actively trying to unlearn? What if our decor is a quiet echo of a power structure that still grips us — not by force, but by familiarity?

Design is not neutral. It speaks. And if we listen closely, we may find that our furniture, our artwork, even the arrangement of our rooms, still carries the blueprint of empire.

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1. The Symbolism of Victorian Furniture

Victorian furniture — with its elaborate carvings, gilded mirrors, and commanding presence — may seem charmingly antique. But beneath its ornate surface lies a cultural imprint: one that idolizes dominance, class stratification, and patriarchal order.

These objects arose during an era when the British Empire was expanding its rule over vast lands, exploiting cultures, redefining beauty through a narrow Western gaze, and extracting resources — including the spiritual and cultural wealth of colonized people.

The heavy, imposing chairs were made to signify authority. The dark woods and overdecorated surfaces reflected not just wealth, but a need to control nature — to tame, embellish, and own. Even the symmetry of Victorian rooms symbolized order imposed from above.

By bringing such pieces into our homes, we aren’t just making aesthetic choices. We may be reinforcing a silent allegiance to a mindset built on conquest and hierarchy — even as we strive toward healing, humility, and reconnection with our indigenous or spiritual roots.

🗝️ "We are slaves to the colonialist system as long as we're using their items and designs."

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2. The Psychological Bond We Didn’t Know We Had

Colonialism was never just about land or labor — it was about consciousness. The colonizer’s greatest tool wasn’t the gun, but the idea: the reshaping of reality itself.

Furniture, language, architecture — all became tools of soft domination. They reoriented how people thought about beauty, space, status, and spirituality. What was once sacred became "primitive." What was once communal became "unrefined." What was once intuitive became "irrational."

In this context, Victorian design is more than outdated taste — it’s a living monument to psychological programming. Its aesthetics reflect a deep belief in hierarchy, in control, in separating form from function, soul from surface.

And while our chains may no longer be iron, our minds may still bow to the values that were once violently imposed — especially if we continue to curate our lives around symbols that glorify the very forces we’re trying to transcend.

Spiritual enslavement doesn’t always look like chains. Sometimes, it looks like a velvet sofa with clawed wooden feet.

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3. The Call to Spiritual and Cultural Liberation

True decolonization begins not just in protest, but in presence.

It’s the moment you look around your living room and ask: Whose vision is this? Whose legacy am I carrying forward? Because liberation is not only about what we resist — it's about what we allow to live within us, unexamined.

The sacred concept of Zuhur — the spiritual zenith, the moment of complete alignment with truth — cannot coexist with inherited illusions. And illusions often come dressed in beauty.

We must ask ourselves what values we want to embody. Do we want homes that reflect imperial grandeur or indigenous humility? Do we want to imitate the colonizer's elegance or restore our own ancestral elegance — one rooted in connection, storytelling, nature, and meaning?

When we reclaim the aesthetics of our space, we begin to reclaim our worldview.

Decolonization doesn’t begin in policy. It begins with the pillow on your couch, the altar in your corner, the materials you choose to touch every day.

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4. Practical Steps Toward Freedom

This isn’t about throwing everything out. It’s about reclaiming intentionality — using our space as a mirror of our healing, not our history of harm.

🧭 Audit Your Space

Ask: Which items in my home carry a legacy I no longer resonate with? Which pieces reflect values I’m consciously rejecting?

🌿 Reclaim Design

Incorporate visual languages from your own heritage. This could mean handwoven textiles, natural materials, earth tones, folk art, or items made by local or indigenous artisans.

🕯️ Curate with Intention

Create a space that feels like you — your story, your journey, your healing. Let every corner speak of freedom, not fear. Sacredness, not status.

✍🏽 Reflective Questions

• What does my space say about me?

• Have I unknowingly accepted colonial influences into my environment?

• How can I transform my space to reflect my authentic values and spiritual vision?

Beauty, in a decolonized sense, is not about polish or power. It’s about presence. It’s about truth embodied.

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A Final Invocation

Bob Marley once said:

"Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery. None but ourselves can free our mind."

Let us extend that freedom to our rooms. Let our rugs, our walls, our lighting, and our chairs reflect not the values of empire, but the soul of who we are and who we are becoming.

Let your home become a prayer. Let it tell a new story — one of return, reverence, and release.