Khadeine Ali | A Place for Us by Khadeine Ali

A Place for Us

RECLAIMING IDENTITY AND AGENCY IN TRANSITIONAL SPACES

A Place for Us

RECLAIMING IDENTITY AND AGENCY IN TRANSITIONAL SPACES

For my support system—Mom, Dad, Grandma, Azhar, Raisa and Kunza.

For the legacy we carry through our matriarchs— Mama Sal, Grandma, and the generations before.

Thank you.

PART 1 INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE

Designer Statement

“I know it’s not fair. But it’s our job to make it better.”

My mom, 2007

Growing up in Trinidad, I learned that stories aren’t just told—they’re lived experiences breathed into the spaces we inhabit. As a designer, I aim to use this understanding to craft experiences that resonate deeply with people, fostering a sense of belonging and well-being. I believe in the transformative power of spaces to reshape human experiences, inspire connections, and create lasting memories.

Trinidad’s vibrant intersections of cultures, materials, and traditions taught me how spaces act as agents of connection to one’s identity and history. There, courtyards hosted family storytelling, street corners transformed into impromptu soccer matches, and verandas became arenas for evening card games of “Truff Charles.” Kitchens and gardens were not merely functional spaces but workshops where recipes and herbal knowledge were passed down through generations.

These rituals—embedded in architecture—revealed design’s power to nurture cultural identity. My journey to find belonging after moving to the United States has instilled in me a relentless pursuit to create environments that enable others to discover their agency and sense of community while

in transit. In today’s divisive climate, my work deliberately challenges the status quo by designing spaces that celebrate local culture and heritage, fostering meaningful human connections across diverse experiences.

My practice stands firmly on three non-negotiable pillars: inclusivity, sustainability, and social impact. Beauty and thoughtful design must be accessible to all, regardless of background or ability—a conviction that drives me to actively confront biases while prioritizing local, environmentally conscious materials.

My design process begins with deep listening—to communities, materials, and history. I immerse myself in understanding not just how a space will function today but also how it will evolve and serve generations to come. Through curiosity-driven research and community engagement, each project becomes an opportunity to weave together cultural narratives with environmental responsibility, creating spaces that unite rather than divide.

Through my work, I’m committed to amplifying and honoring tradition, serving communities, and pioneering sustainable solutions for our shared future. My journey from Trinidad to the United States has opened a unique lens through which I view design. I channel this understanding into creating environments for all because, as my mother taught me, it’s our job to make them better.

My maternal grandparents

My paternal grandma

My family circa 2010

Fig trees in Grandma’s Backyard

CHAPTER TWO

Abstract

In an era marked by unprecedented global displacement, the concept of “home” has become increasingly complex and contested. This thesis investigates how displaced individuals use homemaking practices, vernacular materials, and everyday objects to reclaim identity and create belonging within transition spaces. Moving beyond the metaphor of the waiting room, this research reconceives transitional spaces as a network of connected threshold environments—neither entirely temporary nor permanent, neither completely public nor private—where identities form and transform.

Using the Sunset Park Recreation Center—a once emergency shelter for migrants—as its primary case study, this thesis addresses the critical gap in migrant support during years 2-5 after arrival in the United States, when institutional support often diminishes precisely as needs shift from survival to belonging. Through programmatic interventions including community kitchens, sanctuary spaces, and memorialization areas, this work demonstrates how threshold spaces can transform bureaucratic processing environments into sites of cultural continuity, economic opportunity, and community formation.

Drawing on decolonial theory and participatory methods—centered around a collaborative cookbook project and complemented by photography and community-generated archives—this thesis centers migrants as

knowledge producers rather than subjects. The research examines how communal spaces foster spontaneous homemaking, how waiting becomes an opportunity for belonging, and how displaced individuals reclaim transitional interiors through rituals, objects, and spirituality to find joy and agency in their identity.

By highlighting the invisible emotional labor involved in maintaining cultural continuity, this work reframes waiting not as passive endurance but as active community formation. The proposed network for Sunset Park Recreation Center creates physical infrastructure for collective resilience, recognizing that displacement is an individual challenge and a shared experience requiring collaborative solutions. Through living archives like community cookbooks and participatory design processes, this thesis advances interior design as a decolonial practice that values experiential knowledge alongside professional expertise, transforming transitional spaces into thresholds of possibility where belonging emerges through collective memory-making, cultural production, and shared agency. migrants as knowledge producers rather than subjects. The research examines how communal spaces foster spontaneous homemaking, how waiting becomes an opportunity for belonging, and how displaced individuals reclaim transitional interiors through rituals, objects, and spirituality to find joy and agency in their identity.

Grandma’s Front Porch: A Threshold Inspiration for the Project

CHAPTER THREE

Design Methodology

TheDesign Methodology positions migrants as knowledge producers rather than research subjects. It uses decolonial design principles with participatory methods to recognize lived experience as expertise.

This approach centers on understanding displacement not as a static condition but as a complex temporal experience requiring both immediate interventions and sustained infrastructure for community resilience. The design process ensures that those most affected by displacement actively shape the outcomes through the use of food and photography as primary methods of engagement and knowledge production.

Collaborative Projects as Research

A Place at the Table

This year-long collaborative cookbook project engaged migrants in documenting culinary traditions, adaptation strategies, and the social significance of food in their displacement experience. Participants contributed recipes, food memories, and insights on how cooking creates a sense of home in transitional spaces. These stories directly informed kitchen design elements and programming decisions, prioritizing flexible configurations that support both cultural preservation and economic opportunity.

Through the Lens

This collaborative photography project provided participants with cameras to document their spatial experiences and daily navigations. The resulting images revealed patterns of use, barriers to access, and informal gathering spaces that might otherwise remain invisible to conventional architectural analysis. These visual narratives directly shaped the design of threshold spaces, highlighting where privacy, visibility, and community connection are most needed.

Research Approach

Relational Ethnography

• Collaborative Documentation: Working with community members to capture spatial experiences through disposable cameras, walking interviews, and informal gatherings

• Embodied Knowledge: Prioritizing lived experience over abstracted data, recognizing that displacement knowledge exists primarily in bodies, memories, and daily practices, as many statistics pertaining to displacement do not accurately reflect the demographic

• Temporal Awareness: Documenting how spaces transform across different times of day, days of the week, and seasons to capture the full spectrum of use

Analytical Frameworks

Threshold Analysis examines spaces that exist between public/private, permanent/temporary, and institutional/informal realms. This analysis identifies moments of spatial convergence where different uses and users overlap, documenting how thresholds function as sites of both conflict and possibility.

Patterns of Adaptation records how communities modify standard infrastructure to meet specific cultural and social needs. By analyzing spontaneous interventions as expressions of spatial agency and resistance, this framework helps identify transferable design strategies that emerge from community adaptations.

Circulation Studies map movement patterns that reveal how displaced people navigate between essential services. These studies identify physical and perceived barriers that fragment the migrant experience while documenting moments of pause, rest, and gathering within circulation networks.

Design Process

Proposed Implementation Strategy

• Phasing interventions to allow for adaptation and community input throughout the process

• Building capacity within the community to maintain and evolve the spaces over time

• Creating documentation systems that capture how spaces transform with use

Ethical Framework

This methodology explicitly rejects the extractive tendencies of traditional research and design practices. Instead, it:

• Acknowledges the inherent power dynamics in designer-community relationships and the effects of colonialism

• Compensates community members fairly for their knowledge and time

• Creates mechanisms for ongoing community governance of the spaces

• Embraces the unpredictability of collaborative processes

The resulting design interventions prioritize flexibility, layered programming, intuitive communication across language barriers, and carefully balanced visibility/privacy concerns. Each design decision is evaluated based on how it serves those most impacted by displacement, considering both immediate needs and long-term community resilience.

PART 2

RESEARCH AND SITE

CHAPTER FOUR

Situating the Research

Thisresearch positions itself at the intersection of architectural practice, migration studies, and critical theory. It emerges from the understanding that displacement is not merely a physical condition but a complex spatial, temporal, and psychological experience that fundamentally transforms how people relate to space. By examining transitional environments through the lens of multiple critical frameworks, this research challenges conventional approaches to migrant support that often prioritize efficiency and control over agency and belonging.

The project draws from four interrelated theoretical traditions that together illuminate the complex dynamics of space, power, and identity within displacement contexts.

Feminist Critical Theory: From Critique to Spatial Practice

Emerging from 20th-century social movements, feminist critical theory examines systemic power structures and gender dynamics. While pioneers like Simone de Beauvoir laid groundwork for understanding gender as a social construct, contemporary scholars such as bell hooks and Judith Butler have expanded this framework to interrogate intersectional oppression. The theory’s evolution mirrors a crucial shift from Western-

centric feminism to a more inclusive framework that acknowledges diverse experiences of gender oppression.

This research applies feminist critical theory by examining how transitional spaces can either perpetuate or disrupt power hierarchies. The shelter system, often designed with efficiency and surveillance as primary concerns, typically reinforces existing power dynamics—where migrants become passive recipients of aid rather than active agents in their own lives. By contrast, threshold spaces designed through feminist principles acknowledge the deeply personal nature of displacement and prioritize environments where people can reclaim control over their daily practices.

The kitchen spaces in “A Place for Us” particularly embody this feminist approach, recognizing that food preparation is both intimate cultural labor and potential economic empowerment. These spaces reject the binary between domestic work and public engagement, creating instead a permeable threshold where personal cultural practices can become community building and economic opportunity. This approach directly challenges the institutional tendency to separate “basic needs” from cultural expression and economic agency.

Decolonized Design: Resurrecting Indigenous Knowledge Systems

Building on post-colonial scholarship by Walter Mignolo, Irene Chang, and Anibal Quijano, decolonized design transcends mere critique to actively reconstruct design practices. Rather than simply opposing colonial influences, it seeks to resurrect and reimagine indigenous design methodologies. The framework examines how vernacular architecture and local craftsmanship embody cultural knowledge systems that preceded colonization. Contemporary manifestations of this approach are evident in social media’s role in cultural preservation, where traditional practices find new platforms for transmission and celebration. This theory fundamentally challenges Western design principles by demonstrating how indigenous materials and methodologies often offer more contextually appropriate and sustainable solutions.

This research applies decolonized design principles by recognizing that displaced communities bring valuable spatial knowledge that often remains invisible to institutional design approaches. The sanctuary spaces in “A Place for Us” exemplify this approach by incorporating elements like jali screens and textile partitions that reference spatial practices from various cultural contexts. These design choices are not simply aesthetic but functional—they create graduated privacy and facilitate non-Western approaches to community formation that don’t rely on rigid separations between public and private.

More fundamentally, the research methodology itself is an exercise in decolonized design—positioning migrants not as subjects to be studied but as knowledge producers whose lived experience constitutes expertise. This inverts the conventional power dynamic where the designer extracts information to develop “solutions” and instead creates a collaborative process where design emerges from shared knowledge production.

Homemaking: Domestic Space as Political Action

Maria S. Giudici’s “Counterplanning from the Kitchen” reconceptualizes domestic space as a site of political and social transformation. This theoretical framework extends beyond conventional architectural concerns to examine how spatial organization reflects and reinforces social relationships. By positioning homemaking as a political act, this theory reveals how domestic design can either perpetuate or challenge existing power structures.

The project applies this framework by recognizing that creating “home” within displacement is both a personal necessity and a political assertion of belonging. The cooking and memorialization spaces in “A Place for Us” particularly engage with homemaking as resistance—they transform institutional environments into spaces where cultural practices can be maintained and adapted. When Elena teaches other women to make arepas with American ingredients, or when Maya helps new arrivals contribute to the community archive, they are engaging in homemaking that transcends domestic boundaries to become community formation.

This approach challenges the temporary/permanent binary often imposed on displaced communities. Rather than treating transitional spaces as a temporary stopgap before “real” homemaking can occur elsewhere, the project recognizes that homemaking happens continuously—not as a final destination but as an ongoing process of creating belonging wherever one is located.

Transboundary Self-Determination: Identity Across Borders

Harum Mukhayer’s innovative framework examines how political borders intersect with cultural continuity. This theory particularly illuminates how communities maintain identity and connection across imposed boundaries. Its application extends beyond literal borders to examine how cultural spaces persist within and despite physical constraints, offering crucial insights for understanding displaced communities’ spatial practices.

This research applies transboundary self-determination to understand how migrants navigate between multiple spatial realities—the physical environment of their current location, the remembered spaces of their origin, and the imagined spaces of their future. The threshold spaces in “A Place for Us” acknowledge this complex navigation by creating environments that support cultural continuity without imposing fixed notions of identity. The herb and seasoning archive, for example, allows residents to maintain sensory connections to homeland while adapting to new contexts.

More broadly, the network approach of the project embodies transboundary thinking by reconceptualizing urban infrastructure as a mesh of interconnected thresholds rather than discrete spaces with fixed functions. This perspective acknowledges that belonging emerges not from isolated interventions but through dynamic constellations of spaces, relationships, and practices that migrants orchestrate across fractured urban landscapes. The project’s distributed system of threshold environments—kitchen, sanctuary, forum, and memorial spaces—creates a network that migrants can navigate according to their specific needs, allowing for both collective solidarity and individual agency. By establishing physical infrastructure for cultural continuity that spans multiple sites and programs, “A Place for

Us” supports forms of self-determination that persist across institutional boundaries and temporal uncertainties. This approach recognizes that displaced communities already create informal networks of support that transcend conventional spatial categorizations—the design simply makes these existing networks more visible, accessible, and resilient.

Situating the Research in Contemporary Discourse

This project positions itself within ongoing conversations about the ethics of design in contexts of forced displacement. While architectural responses to migration have often focused on emergency shelter or longterm housing, far less attention has been paid to the critical middle period where institutional support diminishes but integration remains distant. By focusing on this gap, the research contributes to an emerging discourse that views displacement not as a temporary crisis but as a structural condition requiring sustained spatial responses.

The project also engages with contemporary critiques of humanitarian design that often pathologize migrants as helpless victims rather than resilient agents. By centering migrant knowledge and agency, “A Place for Us” aligns with scholars and practitioners who advocate for more horizontal approaches to design in contexts of displacement.

The network conception of threshold spaces further contributes to emerging scholarship on urban infrastructure and migration. Rather than treating migrant spaces as exceptional or separate from broader urban systems, this approach examines how transitional environments interface with existing infrastructures and potentially transform them. This perspective suggests that designing for displacement is not merely about accommodating newcomers but about rethinking how cities function for all residents.

In focusing on years 2-5 of the displacement journey, this research addresses a critical gap in both scholarly literature and practical support systems. It recognizes that liminality is not a brief transition but often a prolonged state that requires its own spatial consideration. By developing design strategies specifically for this extended threshold period, the project

contributes to both theoretical understanding of liminality and practical approaches to supporting those who inhabit it.

Methodological Implications of the Theoretical Framework

The theoretical framework directly shapes the research methodology in several ways:

1. Knowledge Production: Following feminist and decolonial principles, the methodology positions migrants as knowledge producers rather than research subjects, using participatory methods that recognize lived experience as expertise.

2. Material Practices: Drawing from homemaking, the methodology engages with everyday material practices—cooking, prayer, document organizing, photography—as sites of spatial knowledge rather than focusing exclusively on formal architectural elements.

3. Threshold Mapping: Informed by transboundary self-determination, the research methods examine how people navigate between different spaces and states, mapping thresholds not just as physical transitions but as emotional and social boundaries.

4. Temporal Sensitivity: Recognizing that displacement experiences evolve over time, the methodology documents how spaces transform across days, seasons, and years rather than capturing static moments

By integrating these theoretical perspectives, the methodology strives to generate knowledge that is not only academically rigorous but ethically grounded and practically relevant to the communities it seeks to serve.

Research Question

How does the act of waiting create opportunities for belonging? In what ways can waiting be recontextualized as a dynamic strategy for placemaking, allowing displaced individuals to forge social connections and a sense of belonging while addressing the emergent, adaptive needs of their communities?

Preparing a bottle of coffee, Arecibo, Puerto Rico (1942)

East Indian women preparing food for some special occasion in the 1950s, Trinidad (Courtesy of TTAO)

The traditional lepay technique—a mixture of cow dung, clay, and water historically used in Trinidad and Tobago was considered to be ‘backward’ by the British and phased out of building methods.

Mohamed Hafez’s work “Unclaimed Baggage” explores his relationship with Syria, a country he left as a student and was only able to return in 2025 after the fall of the Syrian Regime.

Constellation Diagram

The constellation diagram depicts the intricate relationship between experiences, concepts, and historical contexts related to diasporas and displacement. The diagram also introduces unique concepts like “the waiting room” - physical and digital - as transitional spaces.

British colonizers photographed Indian women and used their likenesses on postcards without their consent. This practice commodified their imag and contributed to the exoticization of Indian women, framing them as objects of fascination.

On Diasporas

The term diaspora transcends simple geographic displacement—it embodies a complex web of cultural preservation, identity formation, and memory-making through time, space, and objects. As communities move away from their homelands, they create intricate networks of belonging that manifest through architecture, objects, and shared cultural practices. This interaction between physical space, material culture, and memory forms the foundation of diasporic identity preservation.

Physical Spaces as Cultural Repositories

Architecture in diasporic communities serves as more than shelter— it becomes a vessel for memory and identity. This practice is evident in projects like Javier Bosques’s Extension Familiar, where architectural spaces actively preserve oral histories and objects of socio-historical significance.1 The project demonstrates how built environments can protect both tangible artifacts and intangible cultural heritage, creating living archives of community memory.

This architectural preservation of memory echoes in V.S. Naipaul’s “A House for Mr. Biswas,” where the protagonist’s quest for a home

1 https://storefrontstore.org/editions/extension-familiar

represents more than the search for physical shelter.2 The Lion House in Chaguanas, Trinidad, is a testament to this duality—a physical structure that embodies the cultural memory of Indo-Caribbean migration and adaptation. Like the spaces in Extension Familiar, it is a tangible link to ancestral journeys and new beginnings. It highlights the tension between cultural expectations inherited from India being recontextualized to a setting where land, property, and intergenerational living are at odds with the working system imposed by British colonization.

Objects as Anchors of Memory

Within these architectural spaces, objects become crucial anchors for diasporic identity. From the cooking tools and recipes that maintain culinary traditions to the textiles that carry patterns and techniques from ancestral lands, these items form a material vocabulary of cultural memory.

The “A Place at the Table” collaborative cookbook project exemplifies this intersection of object and memory, where recipes serve as practical guides and symbolic artifacts connecting generations.

This idea of preservation of memory is powerfully expressed in Mohamad Hafez’s suitcase dioramas. His miniature recreations of war-torn Syrian interiors demonstrate how architecture and objects can capture and transmit cultural memory. The suitcase itself becomes a poignant symbol—a vessel of displacement that contains carefully preserved memories of home.3

Informal Architecture of Belonging

Community hubs—beauty shops, faith-based shelters, and cultural centers—emerge as informal architectural spaces where diasporic individuals foster belonging. These spaces, like those documented in “After Belonging” by Lluís Alexandre Casanovas Blanco, demonstrate how communities adapt and create environments that support cultural preservation while facilitating integration into new contexts.4

2 Naipaul, V S. 2001. A House for Mr. Biswas. New York: Vintage Books

3 “A Broken House” — Re-Creating the Syria of His Memories, through Miniatures. Directed by Jimmy Goldblum. The New Yorker, 2021.

4 Lluís Alexandre Casanovas Blanco. 2016. After Belonging: The Objects,

The “Traces of Displacement” exhibition at the Whitworth Art Gallery further illustrates this phenomenon, showing how displaced communities use various mediums—textiles, paintings, multimedia installations— to create spaces of memory and belonging. Mounira al Solh’s intimate portraits within the exhibition reveal how personal narratives become part of larger architectural and cultural spaces.5

The Intersection of Personal and Collective Memory

Gaiutra Bahadur’s “Coolie Woman” illuminates how personal histories intersect with collective memory in diasporic communities. The stories of indentured women laborers, preserved through narrative and object, demonstrate how individual experiences contribute to broader cultural memory.6 The book becomes an architectural space—a repository for forgotten histories and preserved memories. It underscores the importance of archiving oral hostories into a form that can be passsed down,

Creating Memory Spaces in Displacement

The Welsh concept of “Marathi”—homesickness for a homeland that no longer or has never existed—underscores the importance of creating memory spaces in displacement. Projects like Hafez’s Suitcase Dioramas and Extension Familiar show how architecture can actively preserve and protect oral histories and objects of great socio-historical value, creating physical spaces where memories can be maintained and shared.7

The Role of Objects in Space

Within these frameworks, objects take on heightened significance: - Family heirlooms become bridges between generations Spaces, and Territories of the Ways We Stay in Transit. Zurich: Lars Müller Publishers.

5 Green, Leanne, Hannah Vollam, Ana Carden-Coyne, Chrisoula Lionis, and Angeliki Rousseau. 2022. Traces of Displacement: Exhibition Guide.

6 Bahadur, Gaiutra. 2013. Coolie Woman, the Odyssey of Indenture. University Of Chicago Press.

7 “A Broken House” — Re-Creating the Syria of His Memories, through Miniatures. Directed by Jimmy Goldblum. The New Yorker, 2021.

- Traditional implements preserve cultural practices

- Photographs and documents record community histories

- Artistic works interpret collective memories

Conclusion

The intersectionality of diaspora, architecture, and material culture reveals how communities maintain identity across borders and generations. Through projects like Extension Familiar, artistic works like Hafez’s dioramas, and literary expressions like “A House for Mr. Biswas,” we see how physical spaces and objects preserve cultural memory and enable cultural continuation.

This preservation occurs not just through grand architectural gestures or formal institutions, but through the everyday practices of homemaking, object preservation, and community gathering. Understanding these processes helps us appreciate the resilience of diasporic communities in maintaining their cultural heritage while adapting to new environments.

The architecture of memory, whether manifest in physical buildings, preserved objects, or created spaces, provides essential infrastructure for cultural preservation. It enables communities to maintain connections to their heritage while creating new identities in adopted homes. Through this balance of conservation and adaptation, diasporic communities continue to write their stories in space and objects, creating living archives of cultural memory that span generations and borders.

Mohamad Hafez. Baggage Collection. Plaster, paint, antique suitcase, found objects, rusted metal, wood, Persian carpet, dried plant; 24 by 16 by 10 inches. Photo courtesy of the artist.

Family Extension by Javier Bosques. Photo by Javier Bosques

Case Study: The Lion House from ‘A House for Mr. Biswas’

The Lion House, also known as Hanuman House, in V.S. Naipaul’s “A House for Mr Biswas,” provides a compelling case study for examining the intricate dynamics of gender and power within traditional Indian diasporic households in Trinidad and Tobago. This imposing structure represents a microcosm of postcolonial society, where women play a vital and crucial role in cultural preservation and family cohesion, a role that is often unacknowledged immense significance.

In Hanuman House, we witness how women, particularly the Tulsi women, are simultaneously powerful and powerless. They serve as the backbone of the household, orchestrating daily life and preserving traditions, yet their contributions are often overlooked or taken for granted. The novel reveals how Tulsi women are powerless outside the home because their traditional marriages bar them from doing much outside the house. However, they are not alone in their struggles. They are supported and connected inside the home because the women form Hanuman House’s core social unit, a bond that strengthens them in the face of adversity.

This paradoxical position of women in Hanuman House reflects broader themes of identity, belonging, and agency. Despite their limited autonomy, the silent strength of these women in maintaining the household provides a nuanced perspective on how displaced individuals, particularly women, navigate and reshape transitional spaces. Their experiences in Hanuman House offer insights into the complex process of home-making in displacement, highlighting the spiritual and emotional dimensions of creating a sense of belonging in interstitial spaces.

By examining the Lion House, we uncover how transitional spaces can become sites of oppression and potential empowerment for women.

The Lion House

“Among the tumbledown timber-and-corrugated-iron buildings in the High Street in Arwacas, Hanuman House stood there like an alien white fortress. The concrete walls looks as thick as they were, and when the narrow doors of the Tulsi Store on the ground floor were closed the House became bulky, impregnable and blank.” [Chapter 3]

The Lion House, known as Hanuman House in V.S. Naipaul’s “A House for Mr Biswas,” is a powerful symbol of collective memory, cultural preservation, and the complex dynamics of belonging in a postcolonial context.

This imposing structure, based on the real-life Anand Bhavan in Trinidad, represents a microcosm of the transitional and interstitial spaces central to the experiences of displaced individuals. As Mr. Biswas navigates his relationship with this communal dwelling, Naipaul explores themes of identity reclamation and agency that resonate deeply with the struggles of those caught between traditional values and modernizing forces.

The Lion House embodies the tension between collective identity and individual autonomy, serving as a refuge and a constraint for its inhabitants. It becomes a site of cultural preservation, where rituals and traditions are maintained, yet simultaneously representing the challenges faced by those seeking to forge their paths.

Through Mr. Biswas’s experiences within and attempts to escape from the Lion House, Naipaul illustrates the complex process of home-making in displacement, highlighting the spiritual and emotional dimensions of creating a sense of belonging in transitional spaces.

Family Extension by Javier Bosques. Photo by Javier Bosques

Social Structures

1: PreParation

Here, the Tulsi women, daughters, and daughtersin-law prepare dinner together for their large family. Women take turns caring for babies and children and divide the tasks of setting the table and other chores.

The men are out or resting, waiting to be called for dinner.

2: eating

Only at meals do the roles of wife and mother step out of the shadows to serve husbands and feed children. Notably, in this scene, the emphasis is on the men and children, not on the quality of the food or the significant time it would’ve taken to make the dishes.

This underappreciation of the effort is a point of concern.

3: Cleaning

Once again, the women of Tulsi restored the kitchen and dining room to their normal and calm state. The men, however, chose to rest and refrain from helping with the housework, thereby perpetuating patriarchal norms.

4: sleePing

As the main bedroom was shared among married couples, the women would sleep in the dining room for decency and privacy, allowing them to be safe together and build a sisterhood.

The Capildeo Family

The inspiration for ‘A House for Mr. Biswas’

What about Shama?

Mr. Biswas’ wife was the tie that kept the family and household from ruin, but she is seen as a passive, useless character.

CHAPTER SIX

On Feminist Critical Theory

Feminist

critical theory illuminates how power structures and gender dynamics function within systems of oppression, particularly in contexts of displacement and homemaking. Through the work of scholars like Simone de Beauvoir, bell hooks, Judith Butler, Walter Mignolo, and Anibal Quijano, we can trace how colonial legacies shape both gender dynamics and cultural erasure. This intersection of feminist theory and decoloniality reveals how women’s homemaking practices serve as powerful acts of resistance and cultural preservation within displacement.

Theoretical Framework: Feminist Theory and Decoloniality

The integration of feminist critical theory with decolonial perspectives exposes complex power dynamics within displacement contexts. Patriarchal systems perpetuate gender inequality through institutional and social mechanisms, while colonial legacies continue to impact displaced communities.

Literary Perspectives on Displacement

Gaiutra Bahadur’s “Coolie Woman” offers compelling documentation of this resilience through its examination of indentured women’s experiences. Bahadur’s investigation of her great-grandmother’s journey from Bihar to

Guyana raises profound questions about agency, coercion, and survival.8 Her great-grandmother’s story—traveling alone and pregnant, promised her husband would follow—mirrors the experiences of countless others. The uncertainty surrounding such departures—whether fleeing abuse, falling victim to trafficking, or seeking opportunity—reflects the complex circumstances of women’s displacement. Through these narratives, Bahadur recovers the histories of approximately a quarter-million “coolie” women, revealing their strategies for maintaining cultural practices and building support networks under oppressive conditions.

Toni Morrison’s “Beloved” explores similar themes through magical realism. Based on Margaret Garner’s escape from slavery, the novel examines women’s preservation of identity and community under extreme oppression.9 Morrison’s supernatural elements and temporal shifts capture trauma’s ongoing impact while highlighting how maternal practices and community networks enable cultural preservation. The novel’s exploration of intergenerational trauma parallels the experiences documented in “Coolie Woman,” demonstrating displacement’s multi-generational effects.

Sylvia Plath’s “Daddy” contributes a crucial perspective on psychological displacement through its exploration of alienation under patriarchal authority. The poem’s personal narrative illuminates broader patterns of gender-based oppression and resistance, demonstrating how creative expression enables the reclamation of agency.10 This psychological dimension complements accounts of physical displacement, revealing the multiple levels at which women experience and resist oppression.

Domestic Space as Political Arena

Maria S. Giudici’s “Counterplanning from the Kitchen” provides a theoretical framework for understanding domestic spaces as sites of resistance. While traditional views frame these spaces as locations of invisible, undervalued reproductive labor, feminist analysis reveals homemaking as a political

8 Bahadur, Gaiutra. 2013. Coolie Woman, the Odyssey of Indenture. University Of Chicago Press.

9 Morrison, Toni. (1987) 1987. Beloved. London: Vintage.

10 Plath, Sylvia. “ Daddy .” The Poetry Foundation., accessed 09/15/, 2024, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48999/daddy-56d22aafa45b2.

act through which women assert agency and preserve cultural practices.11

2Daily activities like cooking, storytelling, and crafting become powerful means of maintaining cultural identity and building community networks that support survival and resistance.

The analysis of waiting rooms as gendered spaces offers another vital perspective on women’s displacement experiences. Though often designed without consideration for women’s needs, these institutional spaces become sites where women perform essential emotional labor and construct informal support networks. Through these practices, women transform sterile institutional environments into vibrant centers of community formation and cultural preservation.

Decolonial Design Practices

Contemporary efforts to decolonize design practices build on this understanding of space as simultaneously oppressive and resistant. By integrating indigenous design principles and prioritizing community engagement, these approaches create more inclusive and culturally responsive spaces. This work acknowledges spatial design’s crucial role in either supporting or hindering cultural preservation and community building.

While the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) defines displaced women as those forced to flee their homes due to conflict, persecution, or violence, this definition only begins to capture their complex experiences. Despite facing gender discrimination and limited resources, women actively resist erasure through homemaking practices that support cultural preservation and community building.

These insights carry significant implications for both theory and practice. Understanding how women maintain cultural identity and build community through homemaking can inform more effective and culturally sensitive approaches to supporting displaced populations. This requires

11 Giudici, Maia S. (2018) Counter-planning from the kitchen: for a feminist critique of type, The Journal of Architecture, 23:7-8, 1203-1229, DOI: 10.1080/13602365.2018.1513417

recognizing women’s agency while acknowledging structural constraints, working toward solutions that support both individual empowerment and collective resilience.

Conclusion

The ongoing relevance of these issues, from historical experiences of indenture to contemporary displacement, underscores the importance of documenting and supporting women’s resistance strategies and cultural preservation practices. This understanding challenges us to create more equitable approaches to displacement—approaches that recognize women’s agency while addressing the structural inequities that perpetuate displacement and gender-based oppression.

Case Study: Grandma’s Bedroom & Aunty Nicey’s Kitchen

In this case study, we delve into two intimate spaces that embody themes of safety, tradition, and community: my grandmother’s bedroom and my childhood babysitter, Aunty Nicey’s kitchen. These spaces reveal how personal environments can reflect deeper cultural practices and values, and our exploration of them is instrumental in understanding the complex layers of cultural identity.

Grandma’s Bedroom: A Sanctuary of Tradition and Memory

My grandmother’s bedroom is a testament to the preservation of memory and tradition. The wrought iron on the windows symbolizes a commitment to safety, creating a secure haven. Her prayer corner is a sacred space where tradition is actively practiced, surrounded by old photographs that serve as visual anchors to the past.

Aunty Nicey’s Kitchen: Community and Coded Safety

Aunty Nicey’s kitchen offers a unique perspective on safety and community. In unexpected places, money and valuables are hidden away, challenging typical notions of security. Aunty Nicey embodies this concept of personal safety, famously keeping her money tucked in her bra top—a practice known as body coding, where one’s body becomes the safest place. The large pots in her kitchen are not just for cooking; they symbolize community gatherings and the rebuilding of heritage, fostering a sense of belonging and shared history. This introduction sets the stage for a detailed analysis of how these spaces function as more than just physical locations—they are reflections of cultural identity and resilience.

After many years of sacrifice and hard work, my grandparents built this home when they moved from Surinam to Trinidad. The house was completed in 1978, and my grandma has lived there since. Something interesting to note about the floor plan is while other rooms in the house have changed, the master bedroom has remained the same, a testament to our family’s enduring traditions. It is also the only room behind two locked doors, reinforcing the physical appeal of feeling safe at home. It is where my grandma sleeps and calls her sanctuary, where she can feel safe in the years after my grandfather’s passing in 2016.

Grandma’s Bedroom

Security & Ritual Making; Affirmation of Traditional Values wrought iron Security & Protection; Physical Embodiment of Protection and Strength while still adding aesthetically to the home

hidden ‘Corners’ Security & Agency; Able to put valuables away in a place only she knows

Cookie tin Memories & Tradition- it was also her mom’s sewing kit and where she hid her valuables

Cookie tin

A place where Aunty Nicey hid her dowry in case she needed it to sell or melt for its gold contents.

hidden ‘Corners’ Security & Agency; Able to put valuables away in a place only she knows

Aunty Nicey’s Kitchen

money in bras Security & Agency; Body Coding; In this case, her body is the safest thing and what she can trust

ColleCtive kitChens Community empowerment; opportunity for women to meet; a safe space for many.

Case Study: Sororities, a Critique on the meaning of ‘Sisterhood.’

The concept of sisterhood within sororities is multifaceted and steeped in traditional and modern complexities. After watching Bama Rush and exploring the viral phenomenon of #rushtok, it becomes clear that these organizations, founded initially to empower and educate women, have evolved under the influence of societal expectations and patriarchal norms—what I refer to as the “male gaze.”Sororities promise a sense of belonging and legacy, offering young women a community where they can forge lifelong friendships.

However, beneath this veneer lies a more complicated reality. The desire to fit into these social constructs often leads to conformity, where individuality is sacrificed for acceptance. This duality is reflected in both the camaraderie and the challenges members face. My conversations with my mother, who attended an all-girls high school, further highlighted this tension. While there is undeniable strength in sisterhood, the social hierarchies within these groups can perpetuate exclusion and competition. The pressures to conform to certain ideals—often dictated by external societal standards— can lead to harmful behaviors such as eating disorders and vulnerability to issues like the date rape drug.

Moreover, the role of social media amplifies these pressures, creating an environment where appearance and perception are constantly scrutinized. Yet, women find solace in each other in this challenging landscape, forming bonds that provide safety and support against external threats. This paradoxical nature of sororities—where empowerment coexists with vulnerability—demands a critical examination of how these institutions can evolve to truly serve the interests of their members.of how these spaces function as more than just physical locations—they are reflections of cultural identity and resilience.

Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs

In the context of sororities.

Bama Rush: a film critiquing the pressure put on girls to fit into sororities

A Critique of Sisterhood

Founded on the concept of empowerment, sororities are meant to provide a safe space for growth and support. Fraternities reinforce this, highlighting the influence of patriarchy on perpetuating a sisterhood narrative convenient to their agenda.

CHAPTER SEVEN

On Decolonized Design

Decolonizing design represents a crucial movement to dismantle colonial legacies embedded in architecture, material culture, and design practices. This approach extends beyond aesthetic considerations to challenge fundamental knowledge, power, and cultural value assumptions. The process of decolonization itself—achieving cultural, psychological, and economic freedom for previously colonized peoples—requires a fundamental reimagining of how we conceive, create, and inhabit spaces. By examining spaces from waiting rooms to cultural centers, we can understand how design perpetuates or resists colonial structures of power.

Understanding Coloniality

Aníbal Quijano’s seminal work, “Coloniality of Power, Eurocentrism, and Latin America,” provides a crucial framework for understanding how colonial structures persist in modern systems. Quijano argues that colonialism didn’t end with formal decolonization but transformed into a pervasive power structure—coloniality—that continues to shape global hierarchies.12 This system organizes society along racial, economic, and

12 Quijano, Anibal, and Michael Ennis. “Coloniality of Power, Eurocentrism, and Latin America.”Nepantla: Views from South 1, no. 3 (2000): 533-580. https://muse.jhu.edu/article/23906.

epistemological lines, maintaining European knowledge systems and cultural values as supposedly superior. When we examine contemporary architectural spaces, we often find these colonial hierarchies reproduced in everything from spatial organization to material selection, manifesting in the privileging of certain aesthetic traditions, the dismissal of Indigenous building practices, and the perpetuation of power dynamics through spatial arrangements that subtly reinforce colonial authority.

Quijano’s critique of Eurocentrism as aframework reveals how European knowledge became positioned as universal while marginalizing other ways of knowing. Walter Mignolo’s “The Darker Side of the Renaissance” further explores this dynamic, demonstrating how European Renaissance ideals shaped modern knowledge systems and design practices, often dismissing vernacular approaches as backward or primitive.13 2The impact of this Eurocentric bias appears clearly in architectural education and training, where indigenous and traditional building techniques, spatial organizations, and the use of local materials often face dismissal as “primitive” despite their ecological wisdom and cultural significance.

Challenging Colonial Spaces

The critique of bureaucratic spaces, such as waiting rooms and asylum intake centers, reveals how institutional design often perpetuates colonial power structures. These spaces frequently subject displaced individuals to dehumanizing processes rooted in hierarchical power dynamics. The layout of these spaces—from the arrangement of seating to the positioning of administrative desks—often reinforces power differentials and creates environments of surveillance and control. However, these same spaces also become sites of resistance where individuals and communities maintain dignity and cultural practices despite institutional constraints. Through subtle interventions and adaptations, displaced people transform hostile institutional environments into community and cultural preservation places.

Contemporary decolonial design practices emphasize the integration

13 Mignolo, Walter D. 1998. The Darker Side of the Renaissance. Ann Arbor: Univ. Of Michigan Press.

of vernacular materials and traditional techniques. Practices like lipay (using cow manure in floor finishing) represent indigenous knowledge systems that challenge Eurocentric design norms. The revival of vernacular techniques goes beyond mere aesthetic choices to embrace different ways of knowing and building. These practices often embody sustainable principles and deep cultural knowledge, offering alternatives to industrialized construction methods. Their incorporation into contemporary design represents a form of resistance to the homogenizing forces of global architecture.

Projects like the “A Place at the Table” collaborative cookbook and traditional textile work serve as archives of cultural memory, documenting practices that colonial systems attempted to erase. These initiatives demonstrate how design can support cultural continuity while challenging colonial hierarchies. The documentation and preservation of traditional practices through design projects maintain cultural knowledge across generations, challenge the supremacy of Western design traditions, create physical spaces that support cultural practices, and build community through shared knowledge and skills.

Identity and Power in Design

The relationship between coloniality and identity manifests clearly in how displaced communities navigate designed spaces. Design practices that support cultural preservation—from cooking to crafting—become acts of resistance against systemic erasure. These practices help maintain cultural identity amid displacement while challenging colonial narratives that exoticize or marginalize non-European identities. The role of design extends beyond physical space to encompass cultural gathering spaces, support for traditional practices, preservation of cultural memory, and resistance to assimilation pressures.

The 2023 Venice Architecture Biennale’s Brazilian Pavilion exemplifies contemporary approaches to decolonial design. This project demonstrates how design can actively support decolonization efforts by challenging historical narratives and architectural practices that have marginalized Indigenous and Quilombola communities. The integration of Indigenous

knowledge systems and cultural heritage into contemporary architecture provides: illustrating the importance of recognizing Indigenous spatial knowledge, integrating traditional building techniques, involving communities in design processes, ad challenging dominant architectural narratives.143

Contemporary decolonial design interventions take many forms, from spatial organization supporting multiple uses and communal activities to material choices incorporating local and traditional techniques. Community engagement becomes crucial, involving local populations in design processes, recognizing indigenous knowledge systems, and building collective ownership of spaces. These interventions create environments that support cultural preservation through spaces for traditional practices, intergenerational knowledge transfer, and community gatherings.

14 https://www.archdaily.com/1001311/earth-as-ancestral-and-future-technology-an-interview-with-gabriela-de-matos-and-paulo-tavares-curators-ofthe-brazil-pavilion-and-winners-of-the-golden-lion-at-the-2023-venice-biennale

Hanging tapestries from the Orish Tradition.

Wrought Iron Facade of Pavilion

Rammed Earth Pedestals

Gabriela de Matos and Paulo Tavares, Courtesy of Fundação Bienal de São Paulo

Case Study: Sororities, a Critique on the meaning of ‘Sisterhood.’

On Displacement

Displacement fundamentally and often traumatically reshapes human experiences, encompassing both the physical act of being uprooted from one’s home and the profound emotional toll this displacement inflicts on individuals and communities. In this context, waiting rooms emerge as crucial sites of study—spaces that function both literally and metaphorically as zones of transition and uncertainty. Often designed to process and contain displaced populations, these spaces can also become unexpected sites of resistance and cultural preservation through homemaking practices.

The concept of the waiting room extends beyond its physical manifestation in places like Brigid’s Respite Center or asylum intake facilities. As explored in “Making Home(s) in Displacement: Critical Reflections on a Spatial Practice” (2022), these spaces represent complex environments where displaced individuals grapple with prolonged uncertainty about their legal status and future prospects. The book brings together scholars from architecture, urban studies, and migration studies to examine how displaced people worldwide create a sense of ‘home’ and belonging in transient spaces, particularly within contemporary geopolitical conflicts like the global refugee crisis and forced migration.15

15 Beeckmans, Luce, Alessandra Gola, Ashika Singh, and Hilde Heynen, eds. Making Home(s) in Displacement: Critical Reflections on a Spatial Practice. Leuven University Press, 2022. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv25wxbvf.

Chapter 8, titled “Years in the Waiting Room,” provides particularly valuable insights as it explores waiting as both a spatial and temporal experience. The waiting room becomes a physical embodiment of liminality—a space situated between departure and arrival, past and future, belonging and exclusion.152 This analysis is further enriched by The Funambulist’s investigation of “waiting bodies in dictatorial and bordering regimes,” which reveals how the experience of waiting is often weaponized by those in power against people in transition, especially in migration and border control contexts.

The physical design of waiting rooms frequently exacerbates feelings of anxiety and powerlessness. Overcrowding, lack of privacy, and dehumanizing bureaucratic processes create environments that can intensify the trauma of displacement. These spaces, primarily designed for administrative efficiency rather than human dignity, often fail to address the complex emotional and cultural needs of displaced individuals.163 However, within these challenging environments, there are opportunities to reimagine these spaces as sites of healing and cultural affirmation by incorporating culturally sensitive design elements, vernacular materials, and storytelling installations.

Homemaking practices become essential tools for reclaiming agency within these liminal spaces. Through everyday acts such as cooking traditional meals or mending clothes, displaced individuals maintain vital connections to their heritage while adapting to new environments. These practices transform sterile institutional spaces into hubs for cultural preservation and community building. The diasporic cookbook project exemplifies this dynamic, documenting recipes not merely as cooking instructions but as acts of cultural preservation that link displaced individuals to their heritage and community.

The significance of these homemaking practices extends beyond mere survival or comfort. They represent active resistance against the erasure of cultural identity, often accompanying displacement. By creating familiar 15 Ibid.

16 Beeckmans, Luce, Alessandra Gola, Ashika Singh, and Hilde Heynen, eds. Making Home(s) in Displacement: Critical Reflections on a Spatial Practice. Leuven University Press, 2022. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv25wxbvf.

environments within unfamiliar spaces, displaced individuals assert their agency and uphold cultural traditions despite institutional constraints. These acts of homemaking in waiting rooms and temporary shelters demonstrate how displaced individuals navigate the complex terrain between preservation and adaptation, maintaining cultural identity while forging new forms of belonging.

Contemporary scholarship on displacement increasingly recognizes the importance of these spatial practices in understanding how displaced populations create meaning and maintain dignity in transitional environments. The way individuals transform waiting rooms through homemaking practices reveals the resilience of displaced communities and highlights the potential for redesigning institutional spaces to better support cultural preservation and community building.

This understanding challenges designers and institutions to reconceptualize waiting spaces as not merely sites of passive containment but as active environments that support cultural preservation and community formation. By incorporating elements that acknowledge and facilitate homemaking practices—from communal kitchens to areas for storytelling and cultural celebration—waiting rooms can better address the complex needs of displaced populations while fostering dignity and cultural continuity.

The intersection of displacement, waiting, and homemaking practices highlights how displaced individuals navigate and transform spaces of uncertainty into sites of belonging. Through everyday acts of cultural preservation and community building, they challenge the traditional notion of waiting rooms as purely transitional spaces, creating environments that uphold individual dignity and collective resilience instead. This understanding offers crucial insights for designing more humane and culturally responsive institutional spaces.

Case Study: Spectrum of Resistance (from mundane to protests)

This case study showcases women’s diverse resistance against patriarchal structures. The acts of defiance range from subtle everyday actions to explicit protests, highlighting the multifaceted nature of women’s resistance and the complexity and depth of the issue.

The Mundane: Solidarity in Everyday

The first category explores the potency of collective rituals in everyday life, with a particular focus on the Russian banya. This seemingly mundane act, where women of all ages and backgrounds come together, transforms into a powerful symbol of solidarity. It serves as a potent reminder that resistance can be seamlessly woven into the fabric of daily life, offering opportunities for empowerment and connection that inspire with their strength.

Celebratory Moments: Henna Parties

The second category brings to light the significance of celebratory moments, such as henna parties before weddings. These women-only gatherings, where friends and family adorn the bride with henna, are not just about the celebration. They are powerful spaces for women to bond, support each other, and affirm their womanhood. Even in the face of challenges, such as those experienced by Syrian refugees, these events offer moments of joy and a powerful affirmation of womanhood that uplifts with their resilience.

Explicit Protests: Roe v. Wade

The third category underscores the impact of explicit protests, as seen in the Roe v. Wade demonstrations. These protests are potent expressions of collective resistance, drawing attention to critical issues and demanding change. They highlight the ongoing struggle over women’s rights in American politics, particularly concerning bodily autonomy. Through these images and narratives, this visual archive illustrates how women navigate and challenge patriarchal structures in varied and profound ways. From the every day to the extraordinary, these acts of resistance underscore the resilience and solidarity inherent in women’s communities around the world.

Finding community and building solidarity in everyday activities that allow for conversation or vulnerable moments to be shared.

Celebratory moments are often before a milestone or life transition. These moments bring women together for a culturally accepted gathering or event.

Protests are the most obvious forms of resistance that stem from working together against a policy or event.

Roe V. Wade (1973)

Henna FestiVals

Russian Banya (BatHHouse)

Roe V. Wade (2022)

open MaRkets in t

The Mundane: Solidarity in Everyday Ritual

Celebratory Moments

ExPliCit Protests

tRinidad

Case Study: Seeking Asylum in the United States

Seeking asylum in the United States is a complex process, characterized by bureaucratic, psychological, and social challenges. For displaced individuals arriving in cities like New York, the journey involves navigating unfamiliar systems, enduring prolonged waiting periods, and experiencing significant emotional strain.

Asylum seekers typically arrive at U.S. ports of entry, such as JFK Airport in New York City, where they are processed by Customs and Border Protection (CBP). This initial interaction involves documentation, health screenings, and the issuance of a Notice to Appear (NTA) for an immigration court hearing. Many migrants are then transported to New York City by bus or other means and directed to intake centers or temporary shelters. These places serve as transitional environments where migrants begin their journey through the U.S. asylum system.

Upon arrival in New York City, migrants are directed to facilities like Brigid’s Respite Center or the Roosevelt Hotel Asylum Intake Center. Brigid’s Respite Center, a repurposed Catholic school, functions as a temporary holding site where migrants receive basic necessities such as cots and food; however, they lack access to showers or laundry facilities. Overcrowding and minimal resources amplify feelings of liminality and discomfort. In contrast, the Roosevelt Hotel Asylum Intake Center serves as a centralized hub offering legal aid, health services, and temporary housing. Dubbed NYC’s “modern Ellis Island,” it symbolizes both hope and systemic failure, as its overcrowded conditions sharply contrast with its historical grandeur.

The asylum process is marked by extended waiting periods that can last months or years. During this time, migrants must file Form I-589 (Application for Asylum) within one year of their arrival and await immigration court hearings to determine their eligibility. Many face restrictions on employment authorization during this period, which compounds their financial instability. The waiting period often severely impacts mental health, with studies revealing high levels of anxiety, depression, and PTSD among asylum seekers due to prolonged uncertainty about their legal status, isolation from family and community.

The bureaucratic process for asylum seekers in the United States is can be considered messy due to systemic inefficiencies, resource limitations, and the overwhelming scale of need.

The Statue of Liberty. Allan Cash Picture Library / Alamy Stock Photo

Historic Analysis of Immigration: Ellis Island

the power of lady liberty

Spaces like Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty historically symbolized hope and opportunity for immigrants coming to the United States.

The New Colossus

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Modern Waiting Room: Roosevelt Hotel

The Roosevelt Hotel, a Beaux-Arts landmark built in 1924, was repurposed in May 2023 as New York City’s first centralized asylum intake center. Once a symbol of luxury and sophistication, it now serves as a processing hub for migrants. It is often referred to as the modern day Ellis Island.

The city has recently introduced limits on how long migrants can stay at shelter sites (30 or 60 days), leading to faster turnover but also increased uncertainty for those affected.

Long lines regardless of season.

6. Waiting period: Like Brigid’s

Center, migrants experience a waiting period while their cases are processed or while they await placement in longer-term accommodations.

Migrants report sleeping on floors or in overcrowded rooms due to limited space.

Respite

pRoCeSSiNG iN the RooSeVelt hotel

1. arrival at the intake Center: Newly arrived asylum seekers are directed to the Roosevelt Hotel, which serves as a centralized intake center for New York City.

2. registration and identifiCation: Migrants are registered upon arrival. Information such as their name, family size, and immediate needs is collected. Wristbands are issued to track individuals within the building and ensure proper management.

3. health sCreenings: Migrants are led to a designated health clinic within the hotel for medical evaluations. This includes screenings for diseases, vaccinations, and mental health assessments. Over 70,000 vaccines have reportedly been administered since the center opened.

Despite its historical grandeur, the hotel has been transformed into a functional space prioritizing efficiency over comfort.

4. case management: Each migrant is assigned a case manager who helps them navigate next steps in their journey. This includes assistance with legal paperwork for asylum applications and connections to social services. If migrants have family or friends in other states, case managers coordinate transport.

5. temporary housing assignment: Migrants requiring shelter are assigned temporary housing either within the Roosevelt Hotel (up to 850 rooms) or in one of New York City’s many emergency shelters or humanitarian relief centers. Families and children are prioritized for available rooms within the hotel.

Modern Waiting Room: St. Brigid’s Respite Center

Located in the former St. Brigid’s Catholic School, the respite center was established in May 2023 to address the surge in migrants arriving in New York City. The building, previously closed since 2019, was repurposed as a temporary site for migrants awaiting placement in shelters or other accommodations

Brigid’s Respite Center operates as a transitional space, described as a “waiting room” for migrants. It provides cots for sleeping and basic necessities but lacks essential amenities such as showers or laundry facilities. Migrants are processed here and directed to other shelters or services, though overcrowding and limited resources results in confusion and frustration.

As a result of these diffi cult waiting times for being re-processed, many single migrants end up in cramped waiting areas or outside of respite centers.

Unlike the Roosevelt Hotel, Brigid’s Respite is far more grassroots, with volunteers assisting with to basic living necessities.

Context & Community: The Infrastructure of Displacement

The landscape of displacement in New York City reveals complex intersections of power, community resilience, and spatial politics. This community and context research examines how bureaucratic spaces –from airports to social security offices – shape the experiences of displaced communities while simultaneously exploring how community-anchored spaces like mosques, churches, and beauty salons serve as sites of resistance and belonging.

The historical context of New York City as a gateway for immigrants has evolved from Ellis Island’s symbolic promise of opportunity to today’s network of processing centers and temporary shelters. This evolution reflects broader shifts in how the state manages and controls migration, mainly through what feminist scholar Sara Ahmed describes as “the politics of waiting.” The Roosevelt Hotel, now dubbed the “new Ellis Island,” exemplifies this transformation – from a symbol of luxury to a processing center where asylum seekers navigate complex bureaucratic systems.

When examining these spaces through a decolonial framework, it is apparent how institutional architecture reinforces power dynamics inherited from colonial systems. The design of social security offices, DMVs, and intake centers prioritizes surveillance and control over dignity and human connection. As mentioned in the case studies, design is not for the end user but rather for the sake of efficiency and control.

However, within this landscape of control, communities have created alternative spaces of care and resistance. Mosques and churches, particularly in neighborhoods in Brooklyn, serve as crucial nodes of support for displaced communities. These religious institutions often function beyond their spiritual role, becoming impromptu legal clinics, food distribution centers, funeral homes and gathering spaces where displaced individuals can maintain cultural practices and build new networks of support.

The spatial politics at play become evident when mapping these contrasting environments. While government-run facilities maintain rigid hierarchies through physical barriers, security checkpoints, and standardized processing procedures, community spaces emphasize collaborative relationships and flexible use of space. A mosque might transform from a prayer space to a makeshift shelter, demonstrating how community-driven design responds to immediate needs rather than bureaucratic protocols.

Economic structures significantly impact these spatial dynamics. While billions are spent on emergency shelters and processing centers,

community organizations operate on limited budgets, often relying on grassroot volunteer networks and donations.

Through participatory research methods that center on the experiences of displaced communities, this study starts by documenting oppressive nature of bureaucratic spaces and the transformative potential of communityanchored alternatives. By mapping and diagramming the process to belonging within these bureaucratic and constricting infrastructures, the aim is to better understand how design can reinforce or resist colonial power structures in the context of contemporary migration.

Processing of Asylum Seekers

2. transPortation to nyC and initial PlaCement: Migrants are bused to NYC from border states like Texas as part of state relocation programs or through personal travel arrangements.

3. first stoP: Many migrants are directed to intake centers or temporary respite sites.

wristbands become a code by which migrants are referred.

4. registration and health sCreenings: Migrants undergo registration, where their personal details are recorded. They receive wristbands for tracking within the facility. Health screenings check for diseases and administer vaccinations. Mental health screenings for individuals showing signs of PTSD.

5. Case management and legal assistanCe: Migrants meet with caseworkers who help them understand their legal status and next steps in the asylum application process.

roosevelt hotel asylum intake center

brigid’s respite center

The Path to Residency

7. filing for asylum: Within one year of arrival in the U.S., migrants must submit Form I-589 (Asylum Application) to USCIS or during their first immigration court hearing. Filing triggers eligibility for an Employment Authorization Document (EAD), but work permits can take months to process due to backlogs.

8. waiting Period: After filing for asylum, migrants enter a prolonged waiting period that can last several months or years due to backlogged immigration courts, delays in processing work permits and asylum applications.

9. immigration Court hearings: Migrants attend hearings at immigration courts where they present their asylum cases before a judge. They must prove a credible fear of persecution based on race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or membership in a particular social group. Legal representation is critical but not guaranteed; many rely on nonprofit organizations.

10. deCision on asylum aPPliCation: ApprovAl: The migrant is granted asylum status, allowing them to apply for permanent residency after one year.

DeniAl: The migrant may appeal the decision or face deportation proceedings.

Grief as a Central Experience of Displacement

My maternal great-grandmother

A Story Reclaimed

Among the photographs collected during this research is one that carries particular weight: the only surviving image of my great-grandmother, captured on her wedding day. In 1924, she died from an at-home abortion performed by a midwife.

Already running a shop and raising seven children, an eighth pregnancy became an impossible burden. This single photograph preserves not just her image but a complex legacy of choice made under constraint. The silence that followed her death—the unspoken grief, the family’s dispersal, the erasure of her full humanity behind veils of shame—created its own form of displacement across generations.

Displacement often involves profound grief—not only for the physical loss of home but for the intangible losses of identity, community, and a sense of belonging. This grief is compounded by the circumstances under which many leave their homes: war, persecution, or economic instability.

Displaced individuals often mourn:

• Who they once were.

• The lives they left behind: Familiar routines, cultural practices, and relationships are disrupted.

• Loved ones: Many leave family members behind or lose them during migration.

This mourning process is unique because it occurs at a distance, often without closure. Unlike traditional mourning rituals that allow individuals to grieve collectively, those who are displaced must process their grief in isolation and in unfamiliar environments.

The Role of Objects in Mourning

Objects play a complex role during displacement, balancing practical necessity with emotional significance. While displaced individuals prioritize essential items like documents and clothing, these objects often take on an important symbolic value relating to home and identity. For instance, a photograph can serve as a connection to loved ones left behind, while a cooking utensil allows for the recreation of familiar tastes and memories.

PART 3

PLACEMAKING AND RITUALS

CHAPTER NINE

Photography

In the context of displacement, what is often lost is not just physical home but the ability to author one’s own narrative. Mainstream representations of migrants frequently oscillate between two problematic extremes: either as helpless victims requiring salvation or as threatening masses to be controlled. Both perspectives strip migrants of their complexity, agency, and individual stories. Photography—when placed in the hands of those experiencing displacement—disrupts this dynamic, creating what bell hooks calls “a site of resistance” where people can reclaim control over their representation and, by extension, their identity.

Photography as Decolonial Practice

“Through the Lens” emerged as a core methodological component of this research, guided by the understanding that traditional architectural documentation often fails to capture the embodied experience of space. Disposable cameras were distributed to migrants living in Sunset Park, accompanied by simple prompts: What spaces feel most like home? How do you adapt spaces to reflect your culture? Where do you feel a sense of belonging? The resulting photographs constitute a powerful visual archive that challenges conventional architectural analysis in several ways. First, disposable cameras democratize the documentation process. Unlike professional equipment that creates distance between researcher and subject, these simple tools require no technical expertise and minimize

the power imbalance inherent in traditional photography. The grainy, immediate quality of the resulting images carries an authenticity that polished architectural photography often lacks—these are spaces as they are lived, not as they are idealized.

Second, this approach inverts the traditional gaze. Rather than an external observer documenting migrants in their environments, participants themselves decide what moments matter and which spaces hold significance. As Trinh T. Minh-ha notes, this shift “from being pictured to picturing” is fundamentally decolonial—it returns control of representation to those who have historically been objects rather than authors of documentation.

Most significantly, the photographs reveal aspects of space that conventional architectural analysis might overlook. A corner of a living room transformed into a prayer area. A public plaza where children play games from their home countries. A kitchen window sill where herbs from another continent grow in repurposed containers. These images capture not just physical adaptation but emotional investment—the subtle ways people claim space and embed meaning within it.

Visual Narratives of Adaptation and Belonging

The photographs collected through this project reveal patterns of spatial adaptation that transcend individual experiences. Across different cultural backgrounds, ages, and migration circumstances, certain spatial practices emerged repeatedly:

Thresholds as Sites of Negotiation: Many photographs focused on spaces between public and private realms—stoops, window sills, fire escapes, park benches. These liminal zones often hosted the most vibrant cultural adaptations, suggesting that threshold spaces offer unique opportunities for migrant self-expression precisely because they exist outside rigid institutional or domestic constraints.

Temporary Permanence: Participants documented ingenious adaptations of ostensibly temporary spaces—adhesive hooks supporting

elaborate family photo displays, removable floor coverings transforming institutional tile, fabric partitions creating privacy within shared rooms. These interventions reveal how migrants navigate the tension between impermanence and the human need to create home.

Collective Memory Objects: Across many photographs, certain categories of objects appeared repeatedly—religious icons, textiles, cooking implements, plants, and photographs from home. These objects function not just as decorative elements but as material anchors of identity and memory, transforming generic spaces into culturally specific ones.

Ritual Adaptations: Many photographs documented adapted ritual practices—religious ceremonies performed in living rooms, traditional celebrations held in public parks, cultural practices maintained but transformed by new spatial constraints. These images reveal how cultural continuity persists through spatial adaptation rather than despite it.

Together, these visual narratives offer crucial insights into how migrants actively construct belonging through spatial practice, even within constrained environments. They challenge the notion that “proper” integration requires abandoning cultural practices and instead demonstrate how cultural preservation and adaptation happen simultaneously through everyday spatial negotiations.

From Documentation to Design

The “Through the Lens” project served not just as documentation but as direct design inspiration. The photographs directly informed the threshold spaces in “A Place for Us” in several ways:

First, the images revealed specific programmatic needs that might otherwise remain invisible—the importance of generous kitchen counters for communal cooking, the need for graduated privacy in devotional spaces, the desire for places to display cultural artifacts and family photographs. These insights translated into concrete design elements: the herb and seasoning archive, the nested alcoves in the sanctuary space, and the memorial wall that weaves throughout the project.

Second, the material qualities evident in the photographs—tactile textiles, warm woods, particular qualities of light—directly influenced material selections in the design. The sanctuary spaces, in particular, incorporate elements repeatedly documented in participants’ photographs: soft fabrics for acoustic and visual privacy, warm materials that invite touch, and filtered natural light that creates a sense of retreat.

Most importantly, the photographs revealed not just what spaces migrants need but how these spaces should function. The images consistently showed environments that could transform easily to support multiple uses—living rooms becoming prayer spaces, kitchens becoming classrooms, bedrooms becoming workshops. This multi-functionality became a fundamental principle in “A Place for Us,” with each threshold space designed to support multiple, overlapping activities rather than rigid programming.

Cyanotypes: Transforming Digital Memory into Material Archive

While digital photography has democratized image-making, the materiality of images remains powerful, particularly for communities experiencing displacement. The project extended the photographic work through cyanotype printing—a historic photographic process that creates distinctive blue prints through exposure to sunlight.

Transferring selected digital images to fabric through cyanotype printing accomplished several things. First, it transformed ephemeral digital files into tangible objects that could be touched, displayed, and passed between hands. In a context where material possessions are often limited, these fabric prints became precious documents of presence and belonging. Second, the process itself became a communal activity. Workshops where participants created cyanotypes of their photographs fostered connection and skillsharing. The physical act of laying transparencies on photosensitive fabric, exposing them to sunlight, and watching images emerge during washing created moments of shared wonder and accomplishment.

Finally, unlike digital images that appear pristine regardless of age, cyanotypes evolve over time. They fade slightly with exposure to light and develop a patina that marks their history. This quality of aging gracefully

parallels the evolving nature of migrant identity—not fixed in time but dynamic and responsive to new contexts while maintaining connection to origins.

The resulting textile archives became both documentation and design element. Displayed throughout “A Place for Us,” they serve as visual reminders that the spaces exist to support the lives and stories captured in these images. They transform what might otherwise be institutional architecture into an environment saturated with memory and meaning.

Photography as Cultural Preservation

For displaced communities, photography serves not just documentary but preservative functions. When physical places of origin become inaccessible, photographs maintain connections to landscapes, architecture, and spatial practices that might otherwise be lost to memory. Ariadna, a participant in “Through the Lens” described her photography as an act of cultural preservation—documenting traditions, gatherings, and everyday practices to ensure their children would recognize these as part of her heritage.

Conclusion: Seeing and Being Seen

At its core, “Through the Lens” addresses a fundamental human need— to see and be seen on one’s own terms. For communities experiencing displacement, this need takes on particular urgency as dominant narratives frequently reduce complex lives to simplified categories: refugee, migrant, asylum seeker. Photography in the hands of displaced people counters this reduction, insisting on the rich particularity of individual experience while revealing patterns of adaptation and resilience that transcend individual circumstances.

Through Ariadna’s Lens

Ethical note: Ariadna has provided explicit written consent for her name, story, and photographs to be shared in this thesis and related academic publications. Throughout our collaboration, we maintained an ongoing consent process where she retained the right to withdraw or modify her contributions at any time.

Finding Ariadna

I met Ariadna at a local market in Sunset Park where she was selling handmade resin trays. Attracted by her craftsmanship, I purchased one and we began talking. When I mentioned my thesis project, she shared that she was a young first-generation immigrant from El Salvador with an interest in photography. Her enthusiasm for the “Through the Lens” project was immediate: “To hold a camera would be medicine for my soul.”

Ariadna quickly became a key collaborator, bringing perspectives on cooking, family, and love as anchors of identity. Her experience in the middle phase of migration—neither newly arrived nor fully settled— aligned perfectly with the thesis focus on transitional spaces.

Ariadna selling handmade products

Ariadna’s Sister

Getting ready for Cultural Day

Putting on traditional clothes from El Salvador

Taking out the hair rollers

Ready for her school’s Cultural Day

A Stitch in Time: The Collaged Ohnri

The intricate art of darning is a profound metaphor for cultural resilience. It is a practice that transcends mere textile repair to become an act of preserving identity and memory. For displaced communities, clothing is far more than fabric and thread; it is a tangible connection to heritage, a living archive of personal and collective histories.

Mending garments is a generational ritual passed down through intimate moments of shared labor, particularly among women. When my mother and grandmother taught me to crochet doilies, they were doing more than instructing me in a craft—weaving our family’s narrative into each delicate stitch. These practices represent homemaking as an act of care, resilience, and survival, challenging the disposable nature of modern consumerism.

In my creative exploration, I recreate the traditional ohnri (headscarf) worn by my ancestors. This garment once signified modesty and respect and was ironically deemed old-fashioned by the British during Trinidad’s march toward independence. By incorporating photographs, embroidery, and carefully patched fabric, I honor the complex layers of my cultural identity. Each stitch becomes a statement, each patch a testimony to survival.

The act of darning is inherently political. Through the lens of feminist critical theory and decolonizing design, mending becomes a form of resistance against oppressive structures. The visible and invisible stitches tell a story of adaptation, of maintaining dignity in the face of displacement. They reject the narrative of erasure, instead celebrating the journey of a garment—and, by extension, a people.

In cultures where fast fashion and consumerism are not privileged, clothing repair is more than an economic necessity; it is a profound act of cultural preservation. The wear and tear celebrated in each mended piece speaks to resilience—each thread is a connection to a history that refuses to be forgotten. By darning, making, and sewing, I reclaim narratives that might otherwise be lost, stitching together identity fragments in unfamiliar spaces.

Ultimately, this practice is an artistic expression of survival. It challenges us to see beyond the surface and recognize that cultural heritage is not static but dynamically maintained through acts of care, creativity, and conscious preservation. Every mended garment lies a story of continuity, of identity restored and reimagined.

The ohnri—a traditional Indian fabric wrapping cloth—became an unexpected medium through which I began to archive the women of my family. Created from white cotton, a material that appeared in photograph after photograph of my female ancestors, this textile archive holds both physical images and embedded memories of women whose lives were shaped by waves of colonization

White cotton—a fabric with complex associations in Indian history from colonial textile production to Gandhi’s swadeshi movement—appeared consistently across generations of my family. My great-grandmother wore it on her wedding day. My grandmother’s baptismal photograph shows her wrapped in it. My mother’s childhood dresses were made from it. This consistency wasn’t coincidental; cotton carried layered meanings in these women’s lives—signifying both the colonial exploitation of India’s textile traditions and the material’s enduring role in cultural resistance and daily life. It absorbed their sweat, held their tears, and witnessed their labor.

Making of the Ohnri with my sister, Raisa

My maternal grandparents on their wedding ceremony

CHAPTER TEN

Food

Indisplaced communities, food performs a dual function—it is both necessity and narrative. It feeds the body while nourishing cultural continuity, becoming perhaps the most portable and adaptable form of heritage. As migration scholar Krishnendu Ray notes, “Food allows the marginal to maintain dignity in displacement.” This insight became fundamental to “A Place for Us,” where cooking emerged not merely as an activity to be accommodated but as a methodology for understanding how migrants transform spaces into places of belonging.

The Collaborative Cookbook as Research Method

“A Place at the Table: Stories and Recipes from Migrant Communities” began as a straightforward documentation project but evolved into a cornerstone of the research methodology. Like the cyanotype workshops, the cookbook created a framework for collaboration that positioned migrants as knowledge producers rather than research subjects. However, where photography sometimes created hesitation due to documentation concerns, food opened doors immediately. Cooking—unlike being photographed—carried no institutional threat; instead, it offered familiar territory where expertise could be shared generously.

The process was intentionally collaborative at every stage. Initial outreach through local organizations like Mizteca, Center for Family Life, and

neighborhood places of worship identified potential contributors from diverse backgrounds. Rather than prescribing a format, early conversations explored how participants wanted to share their culinary knowledge. Some preferred demonstration classes, others written recipes, and some oral storytelling while cooking. This flexibility honored the varied ways cooking knowledge transmits across cultures—sometimes through precise measurements, other times through sensory guidance like “until it smells right” or “when the color changes.”

As recipes accumulated, cooking sessions became spaces of exchange and unexpected connection. In one memorable gathering, a Yemeni participant and a Venezuelan contributor discovered they used nearly identical techniques for preparing certain stews despite having no apparent cultural contact. This finding supported anthropologist Sidney Mintz’s observation that “food tells stories of both uniqueness and connection”—revealing how culinary techniques converge across seemingly separate traditions.

The resulting cookbook—a collection of recipes, stories, and images— functions as both process documentation and research. It reveals patterns of spatial adaptation, cultural preservation, and community formation that directly informed the design of threshold spaces in “A Place for Us.”

Spatial Insights from Culinary Practice

Close observation of cooking sessions revealed crucial insights about space that conventional architectural analysis might miss. Three patterns emerged with particular clarity:

First, cooking consistently transformed institutional environments through sensory means. The distinctive aromas of toasted cumin or frying plantains temporarily claimed space, creating what anthropologist David Sutton calls “sensory sovereignty”—control over the sensory environment despite lack of legal ownership. This observation directly informed the herb and seasoning archive in the kitchen design, which acknowledges scent as a powerful spatial tool for creating belonging.

Second, cooking revealed the importance of gesture and movement

in spatial occupation. Contributors demonstrated how their bodies remembered spatial arrangements from previous kitchens—reaching for spices that would have been on a particular shelf at home, or positioning helpers in formation patterns established elsewhere. This embodied knowledge shaped the kitchen’s circulation design, which accommodates various cultural choreographies rather than imposing a singular workflow.

Third, the cookbook process highlighted how cooking frequently served as the foundation for multilayered space use. What began as meal preparation often evolved into language exchange, childcare, financial planning, and cultural orientation—all happening simultaneously around the cooking area. This observation reinforced the threshold concept central to “A Place for Us,” showing how spaces designed primarily for one function must accommodate multiple, overlapping activities to truly serve migrant communities.

Food as Threshold Experience

Throughout the cookbook project, food repeatedly emerged as a natural threshold—a mediator between past and present, private and public, individual and collective. This quality made it particularly relevant to the project’s focus on transitional spaces.

As my mom expressed while teaching me and my sister to make arepas: “The first time I made these in Florida, I cried because they tasted wrong. Now I make them differently—not wrong, just different. My hands had to learn new flours, new temperatures. This is how we adapt—not by forgetting, but by translating.”

This concept of culinary translation—maintaining cultural essence while adapting techniques and ingredients—provides a powerful metaphor for the broader migrant experience. It demonstrates how preservation and innovation happen simultaneously rather than in opposition. The cookbook contains numerous examples of this adaptation: substituting plantains for green bananas, finding American alternatives to hard-tosource spices, or modifying cooking techniques to work in shared kitchen facilities with limited equipment.

The cookbook also revealed how food creates thresholds between private and public realms. Many contributors described cooking as an initially intimate practice that gradually became a bridge to wider community. Wei, for instance, first cooked Chinese dumplings alone in his small apartment kitchen, then began making them with neighbors in the building’s common area, and eventually taught dumpling-making at community center events. This progression from private preservation to public sharing appeared repeatedly, suggesting that food pathways could serve as models for designing transitional spaces that support similar journeys from isolation to community.

The Kitchen as Cultural Infrastructure

The cookbook project fundamentally reframed how “A Place for Us” conceptualized kitchen spaces. Rather than treating kitchens merely as functional areas for food preparation, the project came to understand them as essential cultural infrastructure—spaces where displaced communities maintain traditions, build economic opportunity, and forge newconnections. This insight manifested in several specific design elements.

First, the commercial kitchen stations with rentable facilities directly responded to stories from the cookbook project about the economic potential of culinary knowledge. Many contributors described how cooking had provided their first income in the United States, whether through informal catering, street vending, or teaching classes. By including kitchen facilities that meet health department standards for commercial food preparation, “A Place for Us” transforms cooking from private cultural practice to potential livelihood.

Second, the modular kitchen design with movable preparation stations emerged from observing how different cultural traditions required different spatial arrangements. Ethiopian coffee ceremonies demanded circular seating, Korean banchan preparation required extensive counter space for multiple small dishes, and Mexican tamale-making functioned best with assembly-line configurations. Rather than privileging any single approach, the kitchen design creates adaptable zones that can be reconfigured as needed.

Third, the outdoor cooking area responds to cookbook contributors’ stories about the social limitations of indoor cooking. Many described how, in their countries of origin, cooking often happened in semioutdoor spaces where smoke, steam, and aromas could dissipate while conversation flowed freely between cooks and broader community. The design acknowledges this by creating graduated transitions between indoor kitchen facilities and outdoor gathering areas, allowing cooking to expand beyond contained rooms.

From Documentation to Design

The cookbook project influenced the design process in both practical and conceptual ways. Practically, it identified specific programmatic needs: adequate ventilation for strong cooking odors, washing facilities for ingredients requiring extensive cleaning, storage systems for equipment used only on special occasions, and childcare spaces visible from cooking areas. These requirements might have remained invisible without the close observation the cookbook project facilitated. Conceptually, the cookbook process revealed three principles that became fundamental to the design approach:

Cultural practices require material support: The cookbook showed how specific implements—a molcajete for grinding chilies, a clay pot for Moroccan tagine, a dedicated pot for Ecuadorian fanesca—were essential for maintaining cultural authenticity. This insight led to the community equipment library, where specialized cooking tools can be borrowed for occasions when personal ownership is impractical.

Knowledge transfer happens through doing: Contributors consistently emphasized that recipes alone couldn’t convey cultural knowledge— techniques needed demonstration, adjustment, and sensory guidance. This understanding informed the teaching kitchen’s design, which prioritizes visibility and accommodates groups gathering around demonstrations rather than individual cooking stations typical of Western cooking schools.

Food narratives build collective memory: As the number of recipes and stories accumulated, they created a rich account of collective migration

experience despite coming from different countries and circumstances. The documentation stations near the kitchen area emerged from this insight, creating spaces where cooking knowledge can be recorded through multiple means—writing, audio, video, and photography.

Together, these principles reshaped the kitchen from a purely functional space into a dynamic threshold environment where cultural preservation, economic opportunity, and community formation converge.

Beyond the Recipe: Food as Placemaking

The cookbook project revealed something profound about placemaking in contexts of displacement: food often creates the first sense of home. Before decorating walls or arranging furniture, many contributors described establishing their kitchens—setting up familiar implements, procuring essential ingredients, preparing a meaningful first meal. This sequence suggests that edible cultural practices precede visible ones in the establishment of belonging.

One contributor reflected on cooking: “When everything feels foreign, the taste of home grounds you. I can close my eyes while eating and for a moment, I am connected to everyone I’ve ever shared this dish with— across time and distance.” This sentiment was echoed by participants from diverse backgrounds, suggesting that sensory experiences create powerful continuity amid displacement.

This connection between sensory experience and belonging informed the sensory design aspects of “A Place for Us”—specifically the attention to acoustics, natural ventilation, and material tactility throughout the spaces. The cookbook process made clear that belonging isn’t merely visual or conceptual but profoundly embodied through taste, smell, sound, and touch. The project also demonstrated how food creates temporal rhythm in displacement. Contributors spoke of dishes prepared for specific holidays, religious observations, or life events that marked time in otherwise uncertain circumstances. These temporal food practices create structure and continuity amid the liminality of the migration journey. The community

calendar and festival kitchen in “A Place for Us” directly respond to this need for collective temporal markers through food traditions.

Conclusion: The Table as Threshold

The title “A Place at the Table” carries multiple meanings within this project. Most literally, it refers to the collection of recipes and stories gathered through collaborative research. More broadly, it evokes the universal human need for inclusion—for having one’s presence acknowledged and valued within a community.

The cookbook project revealed that tables themselves function as powerful threshold spaces—neither fully public nor private, they accommodate both intimacy and openness. Around tables, migrants described forming their first meaningful connections in new countries, navigating language barriers through shared meals, and momentarily setting aside the stress of displacement through the familiar comfort of traditional foods.

This insight influenced the furniture design throughout “A Place for Us,” which incorporates various table configurations suited to different forms of gathering. From café-style settings for casual encounters to large communal tables for celebrations to intimate corners for quiet conversation, the project acknowledges how this simple piece of furniture creates essential social infrastructure.

As one contributor wrote in their recipe introduction: “When everything else is uncertain, we can still gather around food. The table becomes our first home, the place where we remember who we are while discovering who we might become.”

This sentiment captures the essence of what the collaborative cookbook contributed to “A Place for Us”—a profound understanding of how migrants create belonging through everyday practices, how cultural continuity coexists with adaptation, and how the simplest human necessity of eating together can transform threshold spaces into places of true belonging.

“Home is where my family is. It has always been that way for me. Food connects me to my identity because I watched my favorite people—my mom, grandmother, and aunts—cook. They took pride in feeding their families, and so cooking reminds me of where I came from and the type of women who brought me up.”

Bami Goreng from Surinam

“Every morning, I would wake to the enticing smells of my mother cooking Sada roti on a hot iron ‘tawa.’ What I remember most isn’t just the taste, but the love she poured into each movement—the effortless way she held a knife or turned a pot spoon, making each cut or stir nearly perfect. That flatbread carries everything for me: humble beginnings, history, family, neighbors, the snow-cone man passing by, the doubles vendor on the corner. When I make it now, even with the recipe unchanged since the 1940s, I’m not just preparing food—I’m summoning an entire world.”

Roti from Trinidad and Tobago

“I don’t know that cooking ‘makes me feel connected,’ as it is my culture, it is me. The connection is inherent. Earlier in life I thought of home as the place and spaces of my youth. Now, it means the place that I make. It is where I weave together the aspects of life and lifestyle that are important to me, where I incorporate a diversity of my personal cultural experiences.”

Dirik al Kalalou from Haiti

“This dish bridges worlds for me. When my mother makes it, I taste her love, my childhood, and a country I know mainly through these flavors. The recipe traveled with my grandmother when she immigrated in 1989—it’s preserved history. Now when I share it with my partner, I’m not just feeding him; I’m introducing him to the essence of who I am. Home isn’t just El Salvador or America—it’s this dish that carries my heritage across borders and generations. It’s finding safety and love in something as simple as a meal we share.”

Panes Rellenos from El Salvador

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Cyanotypes as Embodied Memory

In a context where documentation often signifies control rather than care, cyanotype becomes a radical alternative—a process that transforms light into memory without surveillance. Unlike conventional photography and digital technologies frequently used to monitor, identify, and sometimes criminalize migrants, cyanotype emerges as a gentle yet powerful form of visual testimony that centers agency and anonymity simultaneously. Its distinctive Prussian blue becomes a visual language of presence without exposure—a code for resilience that runs throughout “A Place for Us.”

Beyond Documentation: Alternative Archives

For displaced communities, particularly those with uncertain legal status, conventional forms of documentation present significant risks. Government IDs, standardized photographs, and digital records often function as mechanisms of control rather than recognition. Many participants in this research expressed profound ambivalence toward being photographed, particularly by institutions. Cyanotype offers a compelling alternative. First developed in 1842 by Sir John Herschel, this historic photographic printing process creates images without cameras, negatives, or darkrooms. Objects or transparencies are placed on photosensitive fabric or paper and exposed to sunlight, resulting in distinctive blue silhouettes.

The chemistry is simple and non-toxic, using just two compounds—ferric ammonium citrate and potassium ferricyanide—mixed with water and applied to surfaces before drying in darkness.

This process contains inherent qualities that make it uniquely suited for communities navigating displacement:

Accessibility: Unlike digital photography requiring expensive equipment or chemical photography demanding specialized facilities, cyanotype can be practiced with minimal resources. The materials are inexpensive, portable, and require only sunlight and water for processing. Workshops conducted in community centers, temporary housing, or public parks allowed participants to create meaningful documentation without institutional dependencies.

Material Agency: The process gives creators complete control over what they choose to document and how they choose to present it. Unlike institutional photography where subjects are positioned and framed by external authorities, cyanotype practitioners determine what objects or transparencies to place on the sensitized surface, how long to expose them, and how to develop the final image.

Non-indexical Representation: Conventional photography captures exact likenesses that can be used for identification. Cyanotype, particularly when used to capture objects rather than faces, creates impressions and silhouettes—records of presence that resist surveillance while preserving memory. This quality proved particularly important for participants concerned about privacy and security.

Tactile Archive: Unlike digital images stored on servers potentially accessible to authorities, cyanotype creates physical objects that can be kept, hidden, carried, or shared according to the creator’s discretion. The resulting textiles and papers become personal archives outside institutional control.

Through these qualities, cyanotype workshops became spaces where participants could document their experiences without fear. The resulting

blue impressions formed a parallel archive—one that preserved cultural memory while protecting individual identity.

Material Memory: Objects as Testimony

The following is an imagined future for A Place for Us: “Please bring something that matters to you,” read the invitation to the first cyanotype workshop. Participants arrived with objects telling profound stories: keys to homes left behind, children’s handwritten notes, jewelry passed through generations, herbs dried from seeds carried across borders, handwoven textiles, and religious symbols.

Placing these objects directly on photosensitive fabric created silhouettes with remarkable intimacy. Unlike conventional photography that captures surfaces, these contact prints registered weight, texture, and dimension. The pressure of the object against the fabric during exposure created darker blues where contact was closest—a literal impression of presence that digital images cannot replicate.

This direct physical contact between object and medium carries symbolic significance. As theorist Susan Sontag observed, photographs are “not only images but also traces, something directly stenciled off the real, like a footprint.” Cyanotypes intensify this quality of trace. The object touches the fabric; light passes around it; the resulting image bears witness to this material encounter.

What emerged was an archive not just of images but of embodied memory. A participant from Yemen described the distinction: “When I show you a picture of my grandmother’s house on my phone, you see a building. When I show you this”—she held up a cyanotype impression of a distinctive door key—”you feel something of what it meant to lock that door behind me for the last time.”

Process as Community: Collaborative Creation

Beyond the resulting images, the cyanotype process itself generates significant social value. Workshops held in the kitchen and forum spaces of the community center transform isolated experiences into collective practice. As participants gather around tables to prepare fabric, arrange objects, and watch the magic of development, conversation flowed

naturally. Stories emerged about the objects being documented, traditions they represented, and adaptations required in new contexts.

The process follows a distinct rhythm. First comes preparation—coating fabric with photosensitive solution and allowing it to dry in darkness. Next is composition—arranging objects or transparencies on the prepared surface. Then exposure—placing compositions in sunlight for minutes or hours, watching as unexposed areas turn deep blue while covered areas remain white. Finally, development—washing the exposed fabric in water to stop the reaction and reveal the final image.

This sequence created natural moments for exchange and connection. During preparation, participants shared techniques and assisted each other. Composition became a storytelling opportunity, with each object placed on fabric accompanied by its narrative significance. Exposure required patience—a shared waiting that invited conversation. Development brought collective excitement as images emerged in washing basins.

As my sister mentioned as I created cyanotypes at home, “When we’re all standing around the water bin watching our pictures appear, no one is thinking about who has papers and who doesn’t. We’re just people making something beautiful together.”

This observation points to a profound function and intended value of the workshops: they temporarily suspended the hierarchies and categories that often define migrant experiences. Legal status, language proficiency, and national origin receded as shared creative process took center stage. The resulting community cohesion extended beyond workshop hours as participants recognized each other in neighborhood spaces and built connections founded on creative collaboration rather than shared trauma.

Blue Code: Aesthetics of Resilience

Throughout “A Place for Us,” the distinctive Prussian blue of cyanotype becomes a visual code—a recurring aesthetic element that signals spaces of community agency and cultural memory. This choice is deliberate. The

color’s historical and material properties align precisely with the project’s theoretical framework.

First, cyanotype’s history positions it outside dominant photographic traditions. Largely overlooked in mainstream photography’s development, it was primarily used for scientific documentation, architectural blueprints, and by amateur women photographers excluded from professional darkrooms. This marginal status parallels the position of displaced communities whose visual traditions often exist outside recognized artistic canons.

Second, the chemistry of cyanotype embodies resilience. Unlike silverbased photographs that degrade irreparably over time, cyanotypes demonstrate remarkable recovery capabilities. Images that fade from extended light exposure can be rejuvenated simply by being placed in darkness. This regenerative quality—the ability to recover rather than merely endure—provides a powerful metaphor for migrant resilience.

Third, the blue itself carries cultural resonance across diverse traditions. From Moroccan architectural elements to Chinese porcelain, Mexican talavera to Indian indigo textiles, blue pigments have profound historical significance in many cultural contexts. Workshop participants frequently noted connections between cyanotype blue and traditional arts from their countries of origin, finding familiarity within the new medium.

Finally, this distinctive color creates a visual language throughout the project that signals spaces of agency. The lighting fixtures in sanctuary spaces incorporate cyanotype fabrics, filtering light through memories. The forum’s documentation stations include cyanotype curtains that provide privacy while displaying community archives. The kitchen space features serving textiles printed with culinary herbs and implements.

This visual continuity serves practical functions. Newcomers learn to recognize the blue as marking spaces where community knowledge is valued and cultural practices supported. The color becomes a wayfinding system toward resources responsive to migrant needs and experiences.

Implementation: From Workshops to Infrastructure

The cyanotype workshops began as research methodology but evolved into essential programming for “A Place for Us.” The project incorporates permanent infrastructure to support this practice across three key areas:

Production Spaces: The second floor includes a dedicated cyanotype studio with coating areas, drying racks, transparency preparation stations, and washing facilities. Adjacent to photography darkrooms, these spaces support multiple approaches to visual documentation and memorymaking. Large windows provide natural light for exposures, while retractable shades create darkness for preparation and storage.

Display Systems: Throughout the building, display systems designed specifically for textile cyanotypes allow for ongoing exhibition and evolution of the community archive. Modular mounting hardware accommodates various fabric sizes and weights. Lighting systems with UV protection prevent excessive fading. Interpretive elements enable contributors to contextualize their work with written or audio narratives.

Workshop Program: Regular workshops taught by community members like Maya constitute core programming. Structured in progressive levels, these workshops begin with basic technique and advance to experimental approaches combining cyanotype with embroidery, weaving, and digital processes. A teaching stipend program ensures workshop leaders receive fair compensation for sharing their expertise.

This infrastructure transforms cyanotype from occasional activity to sustained community practice. The resulting archive grows continuously, incorporating new arrivals’ contributions alongside evolving work from established residents. Unlike institutional archives that freeze communities in time, this living collection demonstrates how cultural practices adapt and transform through displacement without being erased.

Code for Resilience: Beyond Documentation

In its most profound function, cyanotype in “A Place for Us” transcends

documentation to become a code for resilience—a visual language that communicates survival, adaptation, and continuity without requiring disclosure.

This coded quality manifests in several ways. First, the abstract nature of many cyanotype impressions renders them illegible to outsiders while remaining profoundly meaningful to their creators. A circular impression might represent a wedding ring to its maker while appearing simply decorative to others. This selective legibility creates safe spaces for memory—public yet protected.

Second, the process itself models resilience. After light exposure, the fabric appears unchanged until washed in water—a moment participants repeatedly described as magical. “It’s like our stories,” observed an Ecuadorian participant. “They’re always there, even when you can’t see them yet.” This revelation through process mirrors the experience of cultural practices that may remain latent in hostile environments but emerge when conditions support their expression.

Third, the resulting archive demonstrates how memory persists through transformation. Objects from home countries create impressions in new materials; traditional patterns appear in contemporary formats; family photographs become abstract compositions. These translations across media parallel the ways displaced communities maintain cultural continuity not through exact replication but through creative adaptation.

Conclusion: Blue Futures

The blue that weaves throughout “A Place for Us” is not merely decorative— it constitutes a methodology, an archive, and a code for resilience. By embracing cyanotype as both process and aesthetic language, the project actively counters the criminalizing documentation that often surrounds migrant experiences. Instead, it offers spaces where community members control their own representation, where memory can be preserved without exposure, and where cultural knowledge transmits across generations despite displacement.

Maya’s cyanotype workshops in the narrative section of this thesis exemplify this approach. When she guides a newly arrived family in creating their first blue impression, she’s not simply teaching a technique. She’s initiating them into a community practice of memory-making that protects while it preserves. The resulting textile joins countless others throughout the space—a growing constellation of blue memories that together form a collective testament to presence.

In a political context where migrant visibility often brings vulnerability, these blue archives offer an alternative—a way of saying we are here without saying here I am.Theytransform documentation from a mechanism of control into a practice of community care. The distinctive blue that suffuses the threshold spaces signals this inversion to all who enter: here, your memories matter; here, your presence strengthens us; here, your story continues. What remains visible in these spaces is not individual identity but collective resilience—coded in blue, woven through thresholds, preserved in light.

The cyanotype process involves exposing light-sensitive material to sunlight, where images emerge through the interaction of light with chemicals. The distinctive blue color marks a transition between absence and presence, loss and preservation.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Learning from the Earth

Atthe intersection of studio practice and academic research, I discovered a profound narrative of cultural resilience through earthen floors. While I did not directly replicate the traditional Lipay technique—a mixture of cow dung, clay, and water historically used in Trinidad and Tobago—I was profoundly influenced by the concept of learning from native and vernacular practices. Earthen materials in construction predate industrialization and reflect a deep connection to the land and cultural heritage.

These materials represent more than a building technique; they are a living archive of cultural wisdom embodying an intrinsic relationship with landscape and tradition. Their significance extends beyond mere construction, challenging the systematic undermining of indigenous knowledge by colonial narratives that dismissed local practices as primitive or inferior. Edward Said’s concept of Orientalism echoes through this history, where non-Western practices were marginalized, exoticized, and rendered invisible.

The Lipay technique, used by my great-grandmother, tells a story of cultural resilience. As concrete became the preferred material, Lipay was branded as “backward” and associated with the “coolie” class—a dismissive colonial categorization that sought to devalue indigenous practices. By revisiting these materials, I aim to challenge these narratives and acknowledge the sophisticated knowledge systems that were suppressed.

This exploration is inherently political. Like the rammed earth projects in Brazil’s Biennale Architecture Exhibition, my work represents a form of resistance against industrialized construction methods. It is an intentional act of reclaiming and centering indigenous knowledge, transforming design from a colonial practice to a decolonial dialogue.

Particularly significant is the matrilineal nature of this knowledge. Earthen floors were a construction technique and a form of cultural preservation passed down through generations of women in the East Indian diaspora. By engaging with these practices, I honor the women who maintained these traditions in the face of systemic erasure. This becomes a feminist act of resistance, challenging dominant narratives in architecture and society.

Decolonization in design is not merely about aesthetic or technical choices—it is about listening to the land, respecting Indigenous wisdom, and recognizing the profound knowledge embedded in vernacular practices. Each handful of earth, each carefully mixed Lipay floor, is a statement of cultural continuity and resilience.

Traditional method of Lipay

Making the earth floor

Close-up of earth floors

PART 4 SITE AND DESIGN INTERVENTIONS

On Choosing Sunset Park

APlace for Us emerges from the specific context of Sunset Park, Brooklyn, where the community center temporarily served as an emergency shelter for asylum seekers in 2023-2024. This transformation— from public recreational facility to quasi-private shelter and back again— created a unique threshold condition that embodies the project’s central investigation: how transitional spaces can foster connection rather than division between established communities and newly arrived migrants.

Sunset Park’s history has been shaped by successive waves of migration, with large Latinx and Chinese immigrant populations creating vibrant networks of cultural resilience. Yet the neighborhood faces persistent challenges: economic precarity, insufficient public infrastructure, limited access to legal aid, language barriers, and scarcity of spaces for emotional or spiritual respite. These challenges affect both established immigrant communities and newer arrivals navigating the critical middle years of the displacement journey—the period between emergency response and longterm integration when institutional support often diminishes precisely as needs shift from survival to belonging.

The temporary shelter system, while providing essential services, revealed significant gaps in how public facilities adapt to community needs. Prioritizing immediate shelter requirements often resulted in eliminating spaces for cultural expression and meaningful interaction. Rather than

redesigning the shelter system itself, this project examines the edges and interfaces where emergency response meets community resilience, where private necessity opens into public connection.

Understanding Thresholds as Inhabitable Domains

Thresholds exist as both spatial and temporal conditions. Spatially, they manifest as zones where distinct realms overlap—neither fully public nor private, neither entirely permanent nor temporary. Temporally, they represent moments of passage and transformation where identities are negotiated and reformed. For displaced communities, these threshold conditions are amplified: people exist between origins and destinations, between past and future, between exclusion and belonging.

This project reimagines thresholds not as boundaries to be crossed but as inhabitable domains where new forms of community can emerge— dynamic zones of negotiation where individuals navigate between visibility and protection, between individual need and collective possibility. The design intervention translates these threshold qualities into four interconnected dimensions:

Kitchen as Cultural Heart: Creating spaces that foster human bonds through shared experience and cultural exchange centered around food practices and culinary knowledge.

Sanctuary as Refuge: Offering physical and psychological spaces that acknowledge vulnerability while preserving dignity, allowing for spiritual practices and emotional respite.

Forum as Collective Agency: Enabling visibility and voice for communities often rendered invisible, supporting both informal gathering and organized advocacy.

Memorial as Continuity: Supporting practices that provide continuity and meaning amid displacement, acknowledging both loss and resilience through material archives and community documentation.

Spatial Strategy and Material Approach

The project employs a spatial strategy that operates across three integrated layers:

Persistent Infrastructure: A durable framework defining primary circulation paths, gathering nodes, and adjustable boundaries. This infrastructure creates recognizable spatial order while accommodating changing needs.

Adaptable Components: Elements that mediate between public and private realms, including movable partitions, reconfigurable furniture systems, and modular display surfaces that respond to shifting programs and cultural practices.

Ephemeral Interventions: User-manipulated elements enabling immediate adaptation and personalization—textiles, mobile cooking equipment, herb gardens, and lighting—allowing spaces to be claimed through everyday inhabitation.

Materially, the project employs a language of graduated transitions rather than hard boundaries. Perforated screens, textiles of varying transparency, and graduated lighting create zones of varying privacy and exposure. Materials are selected for their sensory qualities and cultural resonance: warm woods, tactile textiles, and materials that age gracefully, recording the passage of time and use. The distinctive Prussian blue of cyanotype fabrics appears throughout the spaces, marking areas where community memory is valued and preserved.

Program Elements

The four threshold types manifest through specific programmatic elements:

The Kitchen features modular cooking stations that accommodate diverse culinary traditions, rentable facilities that support economic opportunity, and an herb and seasoning archive that maintains connections to culinary

heritage. Adjacent dining areas transform between intimate gatherings and community celebrations.

The Sanctuary creates nested alcoves with graduated privacy through perforated screens, textiles, and sound-absorbing materials. These spaces support diverse spiritual practices without segregation, allowing for both individual retreat and small group gathering. Materials warm to the touch—wood, fabric, natural fibers—create psychological comfort.

The Forum includes flexible gathering spaces with information systems in multiple languages, documentation stations where experiences navigating systems can be recorded and shared, and exhibition areas that make community knowledge visible. Varied seating with varying levels of exposure allows participation according to comfort.

The Memorial elements weave throughout all spaces, including display systems for cultural artifacts, cyanotype workshops where memories are preserved through collaborative art-making, and community archives that document both loss and celebration. These elements transform circulation paths into meaningful journeys through collective memory.

Diverse User Groups and Needs

The project serves multiple constituencies with distinct yet overlapping needs:

Recently Arrived Asylum Seekers: Predominantly families and young adults from Central and South America with varying levels of English proficiency, navigating complex legal processes while establishing basic stability.

Established Immigrant Communities: Multi-generational Chinese and Latinx families who have developed cultural support networks over decades and hold valuable knowledge about integration pathways.

Service Providers and Advocates: Social workers, legal aid providers,

healthcare workers, and community organizers who need spaces for effective service delivery and collaboration.

General Public: Local residents using the community center for recreation and education who benefit from opportunities for meaningful interaction across cultural boundaries.

By designing for these overlapping user groups rather than segregating services, the project fosters interaction, knowledge exchange, and community building across perceived boundaries of status, origin, and tenure in the neighborhood.

Intended Implementation Strategy and Phasing

The design implementation acknowledges the reality of limited resources and changing priorities through a phased approach that balances immediate impact with long-term vision:

Phase 1: Threshold Activation introduces key elements that can be implemented quickly with minimal construction: movable kitchen stations, textile partitions for sanctuary spaces, documentation kiosks, and initial display systems for community archives. These elements can be installed while the center remains operational.

Phase 2: Infrastructure Enhancement strengthens the persistent framework through strategic architectural interventions: creating dedicated ventilation systems for cooking areas, installing acoustic treatments in sanctuary spaces, enhancing lighting systems, and introducing more permanent display infrastructures.

Phase 3: Spatial Expansion extends the threshold concept beyond the building through connections to the surrounding neighborhood: developing outdoor cooking areas, creating spiritual gardens, establishing satellite documentation stations in partner organizations, and linking internal archives with neighborhood memory sites.

This phased approach allows the design to evolve in response to community

feedback, adapting to changing needs while maintaining the core threshold concept. It also creates opportunities for community members to participate in the construction and installation process, building skills and ownership.

Connection to Collaborative Research Projects

The spatial design directly incorporates and expands upon the “Through the Lens” photography project and “A Place at the Table” cookbook initiative that formed the methodological foundation of this research.

Photography infrastructure is integrated throughout the design, with dedicated spaces for cyanotype workshops, darkroom facilities, and display systems for visual narratives. The distinctive Prussian blue of cyanotype appears as a unifying visual element—in lighting fixtures, textile partitions, and documentation kiosks—creating a visual language that signals spaces where community memory is valued and preserved.

Similarly, the cookbook project directly shapes the kitchen design, with cooking stations configured to support the specific cultural techniques documented through recipes and cooking demonstrations. The herb and seasoning archive incorporates plants mentioned repeatedly in cookbook stories, and documentation systems near cooking areas allow culinary knowledge to continue being recorded through multiple means—writing, audio, video, and photography.

Addressing Challenges and Tensions

The project directly confronts several challenges within the existing context: Bureaucratic Barriers: Many displaced individuals spend countless hours navigating complex legal and administrative systems. The forum spaces counter this experience by creating environments where people can document system challenges and share strategies, transforming isolated frustration into collective knowledge.

Cultural Displacement: The loss of familiar sensory environments— sounds, smells, materials—contributes significantly to displacement

trauma. The kitchen and sanctuary spaces specifically address this through attention to acoustic quality, aromatic plantings, and tactile materials that support sensory continuity.

Economic Precarity: Both established immigrant communities and newer arrivals face significant economic challenges. The design responds with spaces that support economic opportunity: rentable kitchen facilities that meet health department standards for commercial food preparation, workshop spaces that can accommodate skill-sharing and small-scale production, and documentation areas where employment resources can be shared.

Territorial Tensions: The emergency shelter’s presence sometimes created friction between established community center users and shelter residents. Rather than segregating these groups, the threshold spaces create graduated zones of engagement where people can interact according to their comfort level, building familiarity and connection over time.

By acknowledging these challenges directly, the design avoids idealized solutions in favor of practical approaches that address real community concerns while fostering greater connection and understanding.

Mapping the Journey from Displacement to Belonging

The “Pathways of Resilience” timeline provides a crucial framework for understanding the temporal dimensions of displacement and the critical gap this project addresses. By mapping the parallel journeys of asylum seekers and immigrants, the timeline reveals a significant pattern: between the 6-month and 5-year marks, both groups converge in their search for belonging despite having arrived through different legal pathways. This period—when emergency support diminishes but full integration remains distant—is precisely where “A Place for Us” intervenes.

Key Phases of the Migration Journey

The timeline identifies distinct phases that shape the experience of displacement:

Arrival & Initial Uncertainty (0-6 months): Characterized by immediate needs for shelter, food, and safety. During this phase, asylum seekers and immigrants have markedly different experiences—asylum seekers enter emergency shelter systems while awaiting initial processing, while immigrants often rely on existing community connections and family networks. For asylum seekers, this period includes waiting for Employment Authorization Documents (EAD cards), without which legal work is impossible. Institutional support is typically strongest during this phase, focused primarily on survival needs.

Transition to Stability (6 months-2 years): As legal processes advance, both groups begin establishing more permanent living arrangements and seeking employment. Asylum seekers who have obtained work permits enter the labor market, often in precarious positions. Both groups begin navigating systems—schools, healthcare, housing—with varying degrees of support. This period marks the beginning of the critical gap, as emergency services expire but integration supports remain limited.

Building Community (2-5 years): This middle phase reveals a striking convergence between the experiences of asylum seekers and immigrants. Despite different legal pathways, both groups prioritize similar needs:

creating meaningful social connections, establishing cultural continuity, and developing economic stability. Institutional support often diminishes precisely when the focus shifts from survival to belonging. This is the period where “A Place for Us” concentrates its interventions, creating threshold spaces that support the transition from mere survival to meaningful participation in community life.

Integration (5+ years): For those who secure legal status, this period marks deeper establishment within the community—potentially becoming homeowners, business owners, and community leaders.

However, for asylum seekers whose cases remain unresolved, this period can extend the limbo of uncertainty indefinitely. The threshold spaces proposed by this project accommodate both trajectories, providing infrastructure for long-term community building while acknowledging the reality of extended waiting and uncertainty.

The Critical Gap: When Needs Shift but Support Diminishes

The timeline highlights a critical observation that fundamentally shapes this project: between years 2 and 5, institutional support often diminishes precisely when needs shift from immediate survival to longer-term belonging. Emergency shelters close, temporary financial assistance expires, and case management becomes less intensive—yet this is exactly when people begin the more complex work of rebuilding identity and community in a new context.

This gap creates a particular vulnerability where displaced individuals have moved beyond crisis but have not yet established the stable networks and resources needed for full integration. The threshold spaces proposed in “A Place for Us” directly address this gap, providing infrastructure for cultural continuity, knowledge exchange, and community formation during this crucial middle period.

Pathways of Resilience: Navigating Migration and Belonging

The journey from uncertainty to belonging for immigrants and asylum seekers is a complex and varies widely depending on legal processes, personal circumstances, and community support.

ASylum SeekeRS

The Critical Middle Years

Within a five-year timeline of displacement and settlement in the United States, a remarkable convergence occurs: between years 2 and 5, asylum seekers and immigrants—despite their different legal pathways—find themselves facing the same fundamental challenge of establishing belonging and integrating into communities.

This middle period represents a critical transition where needs shift from basic survival to meaningful participation in social, cultural, and economic life. Paradoxically, it is precisely at this juncture that institutional support often diminishes, creating a significant gap between needs and resources.

Sunset Park serves as a vibrant crossroads where diverse communities converge in shared public space. Each morning, Chinese American seniors gather for tai chi, exercise routines, and traditional games, while Latinx families fill the playgrounds with the laughter of children at play.

From the park’s elevated vantage point, the Statue of Liberty stands sentinel on the horizon—a powerful symbol of the immigrant journey that brought many of these residents to American shores.

The Sunset Park Recreation Center, like many public facilities across New York City, was temporarily converted into an emergency migrant shelter in 2023 as the city struggled to accommodate the influx of over 70,000 asylum seekers.

Basketball courts were filled with cots separated by temporary dividers, locker rooms became makeshift bathing facilities, and the gymnasium served as a processing center where people received basic services.

While this emergency response provided immediate shelter, it transformed a community resource into an institutional processing space. Privacy was minimal, cultural practices were difficult to maintain, and the building’s identity as a place of recreation was temporarily erased.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On Thresholds

Theconcept of threshold resides at the heart of this thesis—not merely as an architectural element but as a fundamental rethinking of how spaces mediate between different conditions, identities, and states of being. In conventional architectural discourse, thresholds are often reduced to utilitarian transitions—doorways, vestibules, entryways—spaces to be moved through rather than inhabited. This limited understanding fails to capture the rich potential of thresholds as zones of transformation and possibility.

“A Place for Us” reclaims and expands the threshold concept by repositioning it as an inhabitable domain—a spatial condition that exists between defined states. These are not empty transitions but active sites where multiple realities overlap and blur, where identities become fluid, and where new forms of community can emerge. For communities navigating displacement, these threshold spaces become particularly significant, offering environments that acknowledge both what has been carried forward and what is being created anew.

Thresholds as Spatial Articulation

As spatial articulations, thresholds manifest through specific architectural strategies that transform passive waiting into active belonging. They operate through graduated transitions rather than binary divisions, creating permeable boundaries that allow for varying degrees of engagement,

visibility, and interaction. This permeability appears throughout “A Place for Us” in several key forms:

Material Transparencies: The use of perforated screens, translucent fabrics, and filtered light creates zones that are visually connected while maintaining distinct atmospheric qualities. In the sanctuary spaces, for example, jali screens reference cultural traditions while allowing light and sound to pass selectively, creating nested zones of privacy within public environments.

Programmatic Overlaps: Rather than segregating functions into discrete rooms, threshold spaces allow activities to bleed into one another, creating productive intersections. The kitchen opens into the forum; the sanctuary connects to documentation spaces; memorial elements weave throughout circulation paths. These overlaps encourage unexpected encounters and connections.

Temporal Flexibility: Thresholds acknowledge that spaces transform through use over time—daily, seasonally, and across years. Movable partitions, adaptable furniture, and multi-purpose areas allow the same physical space to accommodate different functions and cultural practices as needs evolve. The outdoor cooking area transforms from morning market to afternoon classroom to evening gathering space through simple reconfigurations.

These spatial strategies create environments that support agency and choice rather than imposing fixed patterns of use. Unlike institutional spaces that dictate behavior through rigid layouts, threshold spaces offer multiple possibilities for engagement, allowing individuals to define their own relationship to the community and the environment.

Thresholds as Lived Experience

Beyond their physical manifestation, thresholds represent a particular quality of lived experience—one that resonates deeply with the condition of displacement. To exist in a threshold state is to navigate between multiple realities simultaneously: between past and future, between cultures, between identities. This liminality, often framed as a temporary

condition to be overcome, contains its own possibilities and knowledge.For displaced communities, threshold experiences manifest in daily practices that maintain cultural continuity while adapting to new contexts.

The communal kitchen exemplifies this duality perfectly: making traditional dishes with locally available ingredients becomes an act of both preservation and adaptation. As one participant expressed during a cooking workshop, “The first time I made these in New York, I cried because they tasted wrong. Now I make them differently— not wrong, just different. My hands had to learn new flours, new temperatures. This is how we adapt—not by forgetting, but by translating.”

This process of translation—maintaining essential meaning while finding new expressions—characterizes threshold experience. It appears repeatedly throughout the research: in the adaptation of prayer practices to new spatial constraints, in the navigation between legal systems, in the evolution of memory-keeping through new technologies. In each case, the threshold experience involves holding multiple realities simultaneously rather than simply replacing one with another.

The design of “A Place for Us” acknowledges and supports this complex navigation by creating spaces that:

Honor Multiple Temporalities: The herb and seasoning archive in the kitchen connects past traditions to present adaptations. Plants familiar from countries of origin grow alongside local varieties, creating a living record of culinary evolution. The space acknowledges both memory and innovation, supporting recipes that evolve rather than remain static.

Enable Cultural Code-Switching: The forum’s multilingual information systems recognize that many displaced individuals move between languages and cultural frameworks daily. Rather than imposing a single dominant language, the space allows for movement between linguistic worlds, supporting the complex reality of multilingual communities.

Support Collective Processing: The sanctuary spaces create environments where difficult emotions—grief, nostalgia, anxiety—can be acknowledged

and held within community rather than experienced in isolation. These spaces recognize that displacement involves profound psychological navigation alongside physical relocation.

Facilitate Knowledge Exchange: The documentation stations throughout the forum enable experiences to be recorded and shared, transforming individual navigation into collective wisdom. Here, the often isolating experience of system navigation becomes a source of community knowledge and empowerment.

By designing for these lived threshold experiences, “A Place for Us” creates environments that acknowledge the complexity of displacement without attempting to simplify or resolve it prematurely.

Thresholds as Political Possibility

The threshold concept carries significant political implications, particularly in contexts of displacement where rigid boundaries—national borders, legal classifications, institutional categories—often determine access to resources and rights. By creating permeable boundaries and graduated transitions, threshold spaces challenge the binary thinking that underlies many exclusionary systems.

In practical terms, this political dimension manifests through several key aspects of the design:

Challenging Institutional Segregation: While conventional shelter systems often separate “clients” from “providers,” “residents” from “visitors,” threshold spaces create environments where these roles become more fluid. The kitchen’s design allows someone to move between receiving assistance and offering knowledge, recognizing that expertise comes in many forms.

Transforming Waiting into Agency: For displaced communities, institutional waiting (for appointments, decisions, documents) often reinforces powerlessness. Threshold spaces transform this passive waiting into active engagement—documentation becomes community archiving,

waiting rooms become forums for knowledge exchange, processing lines become opportunities for connection.

Creating Visibility with Protection: Threshold spaces navigate the tension between political visibility and personal safety through graduated exposure. The forum’s design allows community members to determine their level of public engagement, recognizing that visibility carries both potential benefits (recognition, solidarity) and risks (surveillance, targeting) for displaced communities.

Supporting Collective Self-Determination: By creating infrastructure for community governance and adaptation, threshold spaces enable collective decision-making about how environments should function. Unlike rigid institutional spaces designed for control, these environments can evolve through use and in response to changing community needs.

This political dimension connects “A Place for Us” to broader movements for spatial justice and the right to the city. The threshold concept offers an alternative to both assimilationist models that demand erasure of difference and segregationist approaches that isolate migrant communities. Instead, it proposes spaces of negotiation where new forms of community can emerge through everyday interaction and collaboration.

Thresholds Across Scales

The threshold concept operates across multiple scales within “A Place for Us”—from intimate material details to neighborhood networks. This scalar flexibility allows the project to address displacement as both deeply personal experience and systemic condition.

At the material scale, thresholds appear in tactile elements that mediate between body and environment: the textile partitions in sanctuary spaces that filter light and sound, the rounded edges of forum seating that invite different postures, the warm woods in documentation stations that create psychological comfort within institutional processes. These material thresholds create environments that feel both familiar and adaptable, acknowledging the sensory dimensions of belonging.

At the spatial scale, thresholds manifest in the relationship between rooms and programs: the kitchen opening onto the herb garden, the documentation stations visible from gathering areas, the memorial elements woven throughout circulation paths. These spatial thresholds create moments of transition where activities and communities can overlap and interact, fostering unexpected connections.

At the building scale, the project creates thresholds between the community center and surrounding neighborhood through permeable edges: the outdoor cooking area that extends kitchen activities into public space, the forum’s street-facing documentation displays that make migrant knowledge visible, the garden spaces that buffer between interior sanctuaries and exterior environments. These building thresholds transform the community center from isolated facility to neighborhood connector.

At the urban scale, “A Place for Us” functions as part of a broader ecosystem of support, creating thresholds between institutional systems and community networks. The kitchen’s connection to local food businesses, the forum’s relationship to legal aid providers, and the sanctuary’s links to faith communities all extend the threshold concept beyond a single building to create neighborhood-wide infrastructures of belonging. This multi-scalar approach ensures that threshold spaces can address the full complexity of displacement, from intimate emotional experiences to systemic challenges.

Conclusion: Thresholds as Methodology

Beyond its role as design concept, the threshold serves as a methodological approach throughout this project—informing not just what is designed but how design occurs. The participatory processes behind “A Place for Us” created threshold situations where knowledge could flow between conventional categories: between designer and community, between academic and practical wisdom, between technical expertise and lived experience.

In a world increasingly defined by migration, climate displacement, and

geopolitical instability, the threshold concept offers valuable tools for creating environments that support communities through change rather than demanding stability as a prerequisite for belonging. By designing spaces that exist between defined states—neither fully public nor private, temporary nor permanent—”A Place for Us” creates infrastructure for both cultural preservation and new forms of solidarity, transforming the experience of displacement from one of loss and waiting to one of agency and possibility.

These thresholds allow for the blending of programmatic spaces. Research and ethnographic studies showed a need for solidarity and solitude. The kitchen and forum are inherently interwined, blending modes of archive and storytelling. The sanctuary space serves as a quiet refuge, but is still connected to the spaces.

Thresholds manifest as a way to bridge and connect through the openings of partitions into the building.

But, thresholds also exist more realistically and poetically into a space where people can belong.

The once separate interior and exterior. What typically exists within the built environment.

ProPosed

reed awning

table comes down panel goes up becoming a space for selling

Openings in surfaces allow for gradual participation. The blurring of these boundaries become thresholds for healing, solidarity and opportunity.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Proposed Design Interventions

APlace for Us proposes a network of interconnected threshold spaces that transform the Sunset Park Recreation Center from a conventional community facility into a dynamic environment supporting cultural continuity, community formation, and belonging for displaced communities. Rather than a comprehensive redesign, the intervention strategically focuses on four key programmatic elements—Kitchen, Sanctuary, Forum, and Memorial—that work together as an integrated system. Each space embodies threshold qualities through material transitions, programmatic flexibility, and graduated zones of privacy and publicity.

The Kitchen: Cultural Heart

The Kitchen serves as the cultural heart of the project, transforming food preparation from basic necessity into a vehicle for cultural preservation, knowledge transmission, and economic opportunity.

Spatial Elements:

• Modular Cooking Stations: Reconfigurable preparation areas accommodate diverse culinary traditions and group sizes, from individual cooking to community celebrations.

• Commercial Kitchen Facilities: Two rentable stations designed to industrial standards provide economic opportunity through a blanket vending license that legitimizes street food as a critical income source.

• Herb and Seasoning Archive: Cubby-like shelves for drying, processing, and storing herbs create sensory connections to culinary heritage, with plants from various cultural traditions maintained by community members.

• Indoor-Outdoor Continuity: The kitchen extends into an outdoor cooking area with weather protection, allowing traditional cooking methods that require ventilation and creating connections to public space.

The kitchen employs durable, natural materials that age gracefully with use—wood surfaces that develop patina, metal elements that reflect cooking activity, and textiles that absorb aromas and memory. Lighting is designed to highlight food preparation as cultural performance, with adjustable fixtures that can create either intimate or communal atmospheres.

As a threshold space, the kitchen mediates between:

• Private cooking traditions and public cultural exchange

• Individual memory and collective knowledge

• Nutritional necessity and cultural celebration

• Traditional techniques and contemporary adaptations

The Sanctuary: Emotional Refuge

The Sanctuary creates spaces for spiritual practice, emotional processing, and quiet retreat—environments where individuals can find respite from the psychological demands of displacement while maintaining connections to cultural and religious traditions.

Spatial Elements:

• Nested Alcoves: A series of spaces offering graduated privacy through layers of enclosure, allowing for individual contemplation or small group gathering.

• Sound-Absorbing Materials: Careful acoustic design creates zones ranging from public murmur to private silence, marking physical thresholds between communal and personal realms.

• Adaptable Prayer Areas: Rather than separate rooms for different faiths, flexible spaces accommodate multiple religious practices through simple reconfiguration.

• Soft Lighting: Large fixtures covered with linen and cyanotype fabrics filter light to create a sense of protection and gentle enclosure.

The sanctuary uses materials that offer both tactile comfort and cultural resonance—textile screens inspired by jali traditions, wooden elements warm to the touch, and natural fibers that absorb sound. The space’s material palette prioritizes sensory quality over visual dominance, creating environments that calm through texture, sound, and light.

As a threshold space, the Sanctuary mediates between:

• Public visibility and private contemplation

• Individual spiritual practice and communal ritual

• Cultural specificity and interfaith respect

• Emotional vulnerability and psychological safety

The Forum: Collective Agency

The Forum transforms institutional processes into sites of collective agency, creating environments where displaced individuals can share knowledge, build advocacy skills, and navigate complex systems with dignity.

Spatial Elements:

• Multilingual Information Systems: Screens displaying content in multiple languages provide critical information while acknowledging linguistic diversity.

• Documentation Stations: Comfortable rooms with warm materials provide spaces to record experiences navigating systems, which are then used to guide others.

• Varied Seating Areas: Perforated panels create zones of varying exposure, allowing a spectrum of involvement rather than binary participation.

• Flexible Meeting Configurations: Adaptable furniture supports activities ranging from one-on-one consultations to community organizing meetings.

The forum employs transparent and translucent materials that create visual connections while managing exposure—perforated screens that reveal partial views, glass elements that allow observation without objectification, and movable partitions that adjust to changing privacy needs. Surfaces are designed for information display and community documentation through pegboard panels, projection areas, and writable surfaces.

As a threshold space, the forum mediates between:

• Individual vulnerability and collective power

• Institutional navigation and community knowledge

• Expert guidance and lived experience

• Immediate practical needs and long-term advocacy

Memorial Elements: Cultural Continuity

Unlike the other program elements, Memorial functions not as a distinct space but as a network of interventions woven throughout the project, creating moments of reflection, celebration, and historical consciousness along circulation paths.

Spatial Elements:

• Display Systems: Simple shelving created by community members throughout common areas creates encounters with cultural artifacts along movement paths.

• Documentation Archive: Records of community stories, photographs, and achievements are incorporated into the building’s circulation, making history visible in everyday movement.

• Workshop Spaces: Areas for cyanotype creation, textile production, and other memory-preservation practices are integrated near the primary program elements.

• Celebration Infrastructure: Adaptable areas for marking important cultural events, commemorations, and life transitions are distributed throughout the building.

The memorial elements employ materials that record time and touch— textiles that absorb color and wear, papers that collect marks and annotations, and surfaces that can be continually added to and altered. The

distinctive blue of cyanotype appears throughout these elements, creating a visual language of memory and documentation.

As threshold spaces, the memorial elements mediate between:

• Past experience and future possibility

• Cultural preservation and creative adaptation

• Individual memory and collective history

• Loss and celebration

Implementation Strategy

The design interventions are conceived as a layered system allowing for phased implementation and community involvement:

• Persistent Infrastructure: Structural elements defining circulation paths, gathering nodes, and major boundaries form the most durable layer of the intervention. This infrastructure creates a recognizable spatial order while accommodating changing needs.

• Adaptable Components: Mid-level elements including movable partitions, reconfigurable furniture systems, and display surfaces can be adjusted seasonally or as program needs evolve. These components respond to changing activities while maintaining overall spatial coherence.

• Ephemeral Interventions: User-controlled elements including textiles, planters, lighting, and documentation allow immediate adaptation and personalization. These lightweight interventions enable spaces to be claimed and transformed through everyday use.

This layered approach ensures that the spaces can evolve with the community, responding to changing needs while maintaining the threshold qualities that support belonging and agency. Rather than a fixed architectural solution, “A Place for Us” provides an adaptable framework for ongoing placemaking by and for displaced communities.

Spatial Relationships

The power of these interventions emerges not only from their individual qualities but from their relationships to one another. The Kitchen,

Sanctuary, Forum, and Memorial elements are strategically positioned to create productive intersections and transitions:

• The Kitchen connects directly to the Forum, allowing culinary knowledge to inform system navigation

• The Sanctuary opens selectively to Memorial elements, linking spiritual practice to cultural memory

• The Forum shares edges with the Sanctuary, creating graduated transitions between public advocacy and private reflection

• Memorial elements weave throughout all spaces, transforming circulation into meaningful journeys through collective memory

These spatial relationships embody the project’s central insight: that belonging emerges not from isolated interventions but across a network of connected thresholds that support the full complexity of displaced experience. Together, these design interventions create an ecosystem of support where cultural practices can be maintained and adapted, where individual agency can develop alongside community resilience, and where the experience of displacement can transform from one of passive waiting to active belonging.

The Sunset Park Recreation Center is currently closed for renovation, creating a rare moment to reconsider how this public space can better serve its changing community.

Rather than proposing an entirely new facility, this project works within the constraints and opportunities of the existing renovation.

Level One Floor Plan

i ndustrial- certified kitchen: Back-of-house commercial kitchen that meets health department standards for legal food production.

Level Two Floor Plan

the sanctuary space: Individual Practice, Small Groups, Interfaith Dialogue, Mindfulness Programming

the forum: Navigation Workshops, Documentation Collection, Resource Development, Advocacy, and Mentoring Programs.

documentation station: Space for individual reflection and small group recording

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Story of “A Place for Us”

In architecture, we often speak of thresholds as edges—moments of crossing from one condition to another. But in the context of displacement, thresholds are not just spatial. They are emotional, cultural, and temporal. They represent the blurry, complicated space between leaving and arriving, between surviving and belonging. In A Place for Us, these thresholds take physical form through interconnected spaces animated by the needs, desires, and lived realities of those who inhabit them.

Throughout this book, we have explored threshold spaces as both theory and practice—examining how the spaces between defined states can become sites of agency rather than merely transition. Now, as we conclude, we turn to the lived experiences that give these concepts meaning. How do threshold spaces actually function in daily life?

To answer this question, this chapter introduces four characters—Elena, Wei, Ahmed, and Maya—each shaped by stories gathered through this research. Their narratives reveal how threshold spaces support different forms of agency and belonging through daily practices. Elena finds cultural continuity and economic opportunity in the Kitchen. Wei transforms individual struggle into collective wisdom in the Forum. Ahmed maintains spiritual practice amid transition in the Sanctuary. Maya resists erasure through documentation at the Memorial Wall. Together, they demonstrate how architecture create frameworks for belonging.

eleNa RodRiGuez

Coordinator for the Industrial Kitchen and Blanket Vending License Program

Arrived: June 2020 from Venezuela; Asylum granted in February 2022, currently waiting on green card.

“In this kitchen, I'm not just waiting for paperwork. I'm Elena, the woman who teaches everyone to toast cumin seeds before grinding them. When the wind carries the scent of herbs from home through these open doors, I remember who I was while discovering who I might become.”

Elena, an asylum seeker from Venezuela, finds herself in the Kitchen—a space alive with the sounds and smells of memory. She arrives early, unlocking her station in the industrial-certified kitchen, prepping for a class on herbal seasoning blends. For Elena, cooking is more than labor; it’s legacy. The Herb and Seasoning Archive becomes her tool for teaching others how to reconnect with forgotten ingredients, improvising with what’s accessible in New York’s food systems.

The design here blurs the line between front and back of house. Rentable prep stations are placed alongside communal tables. Outdoor hearths—a nod to the Venezuelan fogón—extend cooking into public life. The entire kitchen is openable, its large pivot doors transforming it from a private place of labor into a collective act of nourishment. This is where the threshold is both literal and symbolic—inside and outside, work and celebration, all at once.

As an asylum seeker, Elena navigates a complex legal status that often constrains employment options. The kitchen’s commercial certification and rentable stations provide legitimate economic opportunity through a blanket vending license. What begins as cultural preservation becomes livelihood—traditional recipes adapted for street food, cooking classes that generate income, catering services that build on existing skills.

Herb and Seasonings Archive

View of the Kitchen from the Forum

The exterior becomes a critical extension of the Kitchen. A lightweight reed awning creates dappled shade while allowing air movement, defining an outdoor room without enclosing it completely. Beneath this canopy, transformable vending stations—built from upcycled materials with fold-down counters and adjustable shelving—allow for impromptu markets and food sales. Raised planter beds edge the space, growing herbs from various cultural traditions: cilantro, epazote, Thai basil, za’atar, and curry leaves create a living ingredient library.

The fogón—a traditional wood-burning stove—anchors the outdoors, allowing cooking methods impossible in conventional indoor facilities. This exterior negotiates between institutional and informal, between controlled indoor environment and public street life, providing legitimized space for selling that might otherwise be pushed to the margins.

wei zhaNG

Documentation Specialist for the Forum, Coordinator of immigration workshops

Arrived: December 2022 from China; Asylum case currently in progress, work authorization obtained March 2024

“Each waiting room I sat in before coming here was designed to process rather than support. But in this space, my painful journey through paperwork became something valuable—expertise worth documenting, worth sharing. My empty hours of waiting transformed into active preparation, my isolation into community.”

Wei came to the Forum after years of navigating the immigration system in silence. The Forum space, tucked inside what was once a gymnasium, now hosts multilingual workshops on legal pathways, housing access, and employment rights. Screens translate simultaneously, and cork pegboards display recent policy updates alongside handwritten success stories.

Wei’s favorite feature is the Documentation Station—a quiet booth layered in soft wood and rattan, where he records his story in Mandarin. These stories are not collected by institutions but by the community itself. The act of documenting becomes active—a shift from being watched to being witnessed. Here, design cultivates graduated visibility—a spatial threshold where presence becomes participation according to individualcomfort levels.

For Wei, whose experience with institutional spaces has often been one of powerlessness and confusion, the Forum offers a radical inversion. It transforms the isolating experience of system navigation into a source of collective knowledge. The physical environment supports this transformation through information displays that make complex processes visible, multilingual interfaces that validate linguistic diversity, and documentation tools that value experiential knowledge alongside professional expertise.

Viw of Open Programming from Forum Space, highlighting mixed uses.

ahmed NaSSer

Community Liaison for the Sanctuary Space, Lead Coordinator for interfaith dialogue events and community programming

Arrived: August 2021 from Syria; Temporary Protected Status, applied for asylum

“When I saw the jali brick walls and felt materials warm to the touch, something in me recognized home. But what struck me most was seeing a Christian woman quietly reading her Bible in an adjacent alcove. We nodded to each other in silent understanding. This isn’t just a place to pray—it’s a space to share what sustains us through displacement.”

The Sanctuary Space

maya moRaleS

Workshop

Facilitator

for Cyanotype and Community

Photographer

Arrived: October 2023 from Guatemala with her son, Augustin; Recent asylum applicant, awaiting work authorization

“Two years ago, when they took our photograph, I hesitated—back home, being photographed by officials meant trouble. ‘It’s not for identification,’ they explained. ‘It’s to remember. To show that you were here, that you matter.’ That’s when I understood: This is where we remember who we are while figuring out who we might become.”

The Cultural Memorial Wall

Poster for Maya’s Cyanotype Workshops

Aging Cyanotype from Divider

The Connecting Element: Screen Dividers

as Threshold Objects

One of the most subtle yet symbolic design interventions is the screen divider that appears throughout the building. It’s a lightweight, mobile partition built from reclaimed wood and framed with the same dimensions as a cupboard door.

This object is small in scale but large in meaning. It references the domestic—the overlooked—and transforms it into something public. In the Forum, it separates discussion zones. In the Sanctuary, it creates intimacy. In the Kitchen, it becomes a stand for drying herbs.

The screen’s design embodies the participatory ethos of the entire project. The first prototype was created collaboratively in a workshop where participants upcycled old dowels and a discarded shelving unit— transforming materials already on hand into something new and useful. The intentional imperfection of these screens—with their visible joints, various wood tones, and occasional asymmetries—speaks to the value of making-do with available resources. This approach continues as new screens are added to the collection, each one created by community members using salvaged materials, incorporating personal touches that reflect cultural backgrounds and individual creativity.

The screen is never fixed. It is moved, repurposed, altered by those who use it. It is the architectural embodiment of the thesis: a transitional element that invites adaptation, storytelling, and presence. Like the people this space was built for, the screen exists between categories—not quite a wall, not quite furniture—but absolutely essential.

These screen dividers serve as material thresholds—objects that can be repositioned to create graduated transitions between privacy and publicity, between individual and collective, between one program and another. Their mobility ensures that spaces can be continuously adapted to changing needs, giving users agency in defining their own relationship to the environment.

As a design intervention, the screens model how the entire space will function—constantly co-created by those who use it, evolving through collective imagination rather than fixed by institutional determination.

Conclusion: Architecture of Belonging

Together, Elena, Wei, Ahmed, and Maya illustrate how threshold spaces support different dimensions of belonging through displacement. Elena finds economic opportunity and cultural continuity in the Kitchen. Wei transforms individual struggle into collective wisdom in the Forum. Ahmed maintains spiritual practice amidst transition in the Sanctuary. Maya resists erasure through documentation and commemoration at the Memorial Wall.

These narratives demonstrate that belonging emerges not from a single intervention but across a constellation of spaces and practices—cooking classes and prayer rituals, legal workshops and cyanotype making, community meals and quiet moments of reflection. The threshold spaces of “A Place for Us” support this networked experience of belonging by creating environments where cultural practices can be maintained and adapted, where individual agency can develop alongside community resilience, and where the experience of displacement can transform from one of passive waiting to active placemaking.

What these characters ultimately reveal is that architecture for displaced communities must operate not as a fixed solution but as an adaptable framework for ongoing negotiation between past and future, between individual need and collective possibility. The threshold spaces proposed in this project offer one approach to creating such frameworks— environments that exist between defined states, allowing both continuity and transformation, both preservation and adaptation.

In a world where displacement continues to shape millions of lives, such threshold thinking becomes increasingly vital—not just for displaced communities but for all of us learning to build belonging in contexts of change and uncertainty. The space between where we’ve been and where we’re going is not empty transition but rich territory for creating new forms of community, care, and connection. It is in these thresholds that we find not just shelter, but home.

Closeup of Divider (Recipes)

Closeup of Divider (Lighting in Sanctuary)

Closeup of Divider (Cultural Memorial Wall)

Closeup of Divider (Recipes)

APPENDIX

Glossary of Terms

Belonging: Beyond mere inclusion, belonging refers to the state where one feels recognized, valued, and able to participate authentically in a community while maintaining cultural identity. In displacement contexts, belonging emerges through both spatial practices and social connections.

Cyanotype: A historic photographic printing process that creates distinctive blue (cyan) prints using a mixture of ferric ammonium citrate and potassium ferricyanide. In this project, cyanotypes serve as noncriminalizing documentation tools that enable community-controlled memory preservation.

Decolonial Design: A design approach that challenges Western-centric frameworks by recognizing and valorizing diverse knowledge systems, particularly those from communities affected by colonization. This approach positions marginalized groups as knowledge producers rather than research subjects.

Displaced Communities: Groups of people who have been forced to leave their homes due to conflict, persecution, environmental disaster, or economic necessity. This term encompasses refugees, asylum seekers, and migrants with varying legal statuses.

Documentation Station: A designed element within the Forum space where individuals can record their experiences navigating systems,

creating a community-controlled archive of knowledge that transforms individual struggle into collective wisdom.

Fogón: A traditional wood-burning stove common in Latin American countries, particularly Venezuela. In this project, the outdoor fogón serves as both functional cooking equipment and cultural touchpoint that extends kitchen activities into public space.

Forum: One of the primary threshold spaces in the project that transforms institutional processes into sites of collective agency through multilingual information systems, documentation stations, and varied seating areas that allow different levels of engagement.

Graduated Privacy: Design strategy that creates a spectrum of exposure rather than binary public/private divisions. Implemented through perforated screens, textile partitions, and strategic lighting to allow individuals to choose their level of visibility.

Herb and Seasoning Archive: A designed element within the Kitchen where plants, dried herbs, and spices from various cultural traditions are grown, preserved, and shared. Functions as both practical ingredient source and cultural memory repository.

Kitchen: One of the primary threshold spaces in the project that serves as cultural heart, transforming food preparation from necessity into vehicle for cultural preservation, knowledge transmission, and opportunity.

Liminality: The quality of being in-between defined states or categories. From anthropologist Victor Turner’s work, liminal conditions are characterized by ambiguity, openness, and indeterminacy. Displacement creates prolonged liminal states that this project responds to through threshold design.

Middle Years of Displacement: The critical period (roughly years 2-5) when emergency support often diminishes but full integration remains distant. This project specifically addresses this gap when needs shift from survival to belonging.

Ohnri: A traditional Indian fabric wrapping cloth used to preserve precious items. In this project, the ohnri becomes a conceptual and material approach to archiving images of female ancestors on white cotton through cyanotype techniques.

Participatory Design: A methodology that actively involves all stakeholders in the design process to ensure results meet their needs. In this project, participatory approaches included collaborative cooking sessions, photography workshops, and design reviews with displaced community members.

Sanctuary: One of the primary threshold spaces in the project that creates environments for spiritual practice, emotional processing, and quiet retreat through nested alcoves, sound-absorbing materials, and carefully filtered light.

Threshold Space: The central concept of this project, referring to environments that exist between defined states—neither fully public nor private, temporary nor permanent. These spaces transform passive waiting into active belonging through graduated transitions and adaptable elements.

Through the Lens: A collaborative photography project where participants used disposable cameras to document their experiences of displacement and belonging. These images informed spatial design decisions and created a visual archive of migrant experiences.

Transboundary Self-Determination: A framework developed by Harum Mukhayer examining how communities maintain identity and connection across imposed boundaries. This concept informed the project’s approach to creating networks that span multiple sites and programs.

White Cotton: A recurring material in the project that appears across cultural traditions and carries complex historical significance related to colonization, labor, and resistance. Used in the ohnri archive and throughout textile elements in the design.

Annotated Bibliography

DeColoNizatioN

Cheng, Irene, Charles L. Davis, and Mabel O. Wilson, eds. Race and Modern Architecture: A Critical History from the Enlightenment to the Present. University of Pittsburgh Press, 2020. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv11cwbg7.

This book was published in 2020, at the beginning of the global pandemic and when racial tensions from the aftermath of George Floyd were present in society. Irene Cheng, Charles Davis, and Mabel Wilson are US-based researchers and thus lead with an American academic perspective, focusing on the intersections of race and architecture. The book looks at the intersection of race and architecture from the Enlightenment to the present.

It brings to light how race, with its ideologies and biases, has informed architectural practice and theory. By looking at how race has historically informed architectural practice, there is a hope to learn more about how these legacies might persist today. The research mentions that the book offers a decolonial perspective by calling for reconsidering architectural history to include marginalized voices and experiences.

PoSt-ColoNial Theory

Vimalassery, Manu, Juliana Hu Pegues, and Alyosha Goldstein. “Introduction: On Colonial Unknowing.” Theory & Event 19, no. 4 (2016) https://muse.jhu.edu/article/633283.

Manu Vimalassery, Juliana Hu Pegues, and Alyosha Goldstein are scholars of American studies. They share research interests in critical race theory, Indigenous studies, and postcolonial studies. The journal article discusses “colonial unknowing,” the deliberate ignorance and refusal to recognize

the connections between race and colonization. It critiques how colonialism has shaped the historical narrative. The article challenges the reader to analyze contemporary knowledge systems to see the lingering effects of colonial powers and narratives embedded within the codes of society.

The 2016 article critiques how contemporary knowledge production erases or ignores the bias of forgotten narratives in colonial histories. It was written amid growing calls for Indigenous rights and decolonization in academia. This relates to the general interest in how postcolonial issues about my ancestors and women, in general, are hard to find. As a result, it involves relying on oral histories and image archives.

Mignolo, Walter D. 1998. The Darker Side of the Renaissance. Ann Arbor: Univ. Of Michigan Press.

Walter D. Mignolo is an Argentine scholar and a key figure in decolonial theory and postcolonial studies. His research primarily focuses on how European Renaissance ideals and colonialism are intertwined and how these ideas have shaped modern knowledge systems. “The Darker Side of the Renaissance” examines the imposition of European epistemologies (theories of knowledge or ways of thinking) on Indigenous cultures during colonization. Mignolo critiques the Eurocentric perspective of history and emphasizes the need to recover and value marginalized knowledge.

This article has been essential in realizing that many ideas of space planning and place-making are Western constructs that made ideas of vernacular seem backward and too traditional. This relates to practices of making traditional foods, learning native dances and songs, and practices related to homemaking, like lepay (using cow manure in floor finishing).

Quijano, Anibal, and Michael Ennis. “Coloniality of Power, Eurocentrism, and Latin America.” Nepantla: Views from South 1, no. 3 (2000): 533-580. https://muse.jhu. edu/article/23906.

Anibal Quijano, a Peruvian sociologist, is considered one of the foremost thinkers on the “coloniality of power” and critical theory related to Latin America. Michael Ennis translated the journal entry into English. The article introduces “coloniality of power” as a manner of control and capitalization of global power that started with the colonization of the Americas and the development of Eurocentric capitalist ideals. His concept has more broadly influenced decolonial studies, Latin American critical thought, and postcolonial theory.

Roy, Arundhati. (1997) 1997. The God of Small Things. New York: Random House Trade Paperbacks, An Imprint Of Random House, A Division Of Penguin Random House LLC.

Arundhati Roy is an Indian author and activist whose novel, The God of Small Things, set in Kerala, India, examines the profound impact of colonialism, caste, and social inequality on a family’s life. Roy’s work is shaped by her experiences growing up in postcolonial India, where the legacy of British rule continues to exert a powerful influence. The novel challenges readers to critique and question the systems of control and inequality that persist in postcolonial societies—systems that are no longer enforced by colonial or Western powers but perpetuated by the people who maintain these hierarchies and stigmas against those deemed ‘below’ them. Roy’s narrative critiques the lingering effects of colonial power dynamics in contemporary society and explores how these forces intersect with local traditions, family structures, and individual identities.

ORieNtaliSm

Said, Edward W. Orientalism. Penguin Modern Classics. London, England: Penguin Classics, 1978.

Edward Said was a Palestinian-American scholar and a prominent advocate for Palestinian rights. Throughout his life, he navigated the complex tensions between Eastern and Western values, which added depth to his perspective and authority as a foundational voice on the concept of Orientalism. His book, Orientalism, is seminal in postcolonial studies, offering a critical analysis of how the West has historically constructed and represented the “Orient” as exotic, backward, and inferior. Said’s work is crucial for understanding how these representations have been used to justify colonial domination and continue to shape perceptions of the Middle East and other non-Western societies.

This seminal work is essential in understanding how Orientalism caused a marginalization of knowledge, as mentioned by Walter Mignolo. For example, in Trinidad, women were fetishized by the British colonial authorities by being photographed and used on postcards. These women were called ‘coolie women,’ a slur that meant to make them seem like an exotic object that proved the success of British colonization and thriving sugarcane plantations.

DiSplaCed PeopleS

Beeckmans, Luce, Alessandra Gola, Ashika Singh, and Hilde Heynen, eds. Making Home(s) in Displacement: Critical Reflections on a Spatial Practice. Leuven University Press, 2022. https://doi.org/10.2307/j.ctv25wxbvf.

Published in 2022, Making Home(s) in Displacement: Critical Reflections on a Spatial Practice is written by scholars from different disciplines, such as architecture, urban, and migration studies. The common thread among

the writings and authors is exploring how displaced people from various parts of the world create a sense of ‘home’ and belonging in transient spaces and places. It places these senses within contemporary geopolitical conflicts like the global refugee crisis and forced migration. Chapter 8, “Years in the Waiting Room,” is a critical chapter that defines my research. It explores the endless cycle of waiting as embodied in space and different temporalities.

Viet Thanh Nguyen, Joseph Azam, David Bezmozgis, Fatima Bhutto, Thi Bui, Ariel Dorfman, Lev Golinkin, et al. 2019. The Displaced: Refugee Writers on Refugee Lives. New York: Abrams Press.

Viet Nguyen, a Pulitzer Prize-winning author who is called “one of our great chroniclers of displacement” (Joyce Carol Oates, The New Yorker), brought together 17 writers from Mexico, Bosnia, Iran, Afghanistan, Soviet Ukraine, Hungary, Chile, Ethiopia, and elsewhere to make their stories heard. This novel is considered a powerful dispatch from the individual lives behind current headlines relating to law and policy; countries with the means to welcome refugees, anti-immigration politics, and fear seem poised to shut the door. Even for readers seeking help, the sheer scale of the problem renders the experience of refugees hard to comprehend.

List of contributors: Joseph Azam, David Bezmozgis, Fatima Bhutto, Thi Bui, Ariel Dorfman, Lev Golinkin, Reyna Grande, Meron Hadero, Aleksandar Hemon, Joseph Kertes, Porochista Khakpour, Marina Lewycka, Maaza Mengiste, Dina Nayeri, Vu Tran, Novuyo Rosa Tshuma, Kao Kalia Yang.

VeRNaCular ARChiteCtuRe + MakiNG

Fuentes, José. “Challenges and Current Research Trends for Vernacular Architecture in a Global World: A Literature Review.” Buildings. (2023) 13. 162. 10.3390/buildings13010162.

SeNSe of BeloNGiNG

Lluís Alexandre Casanovas Blanco. 2016. After Belonging: The Objects, Spaces, and Territories of the Ways We Stay in Transit. Zurich: Lars Müller Publishers.

Lluís Alexandre Casanovas Blanco is a New York-based architect, curator, and scholar. He is a PhD Candidate in the Architectural History and Theory Program at Princeton University. The publication is the result of the work and research leading up to the Oslo Architecture Triennale 2016 and is the official triennial publication.

After Belonging examines how migration and mobility affect notions of home and belonging, focusing on the material and spatial practices of those constantly in transit. It provides a critical perspective on how transient states shape human experiences and the creation of spaces that reflect these conditions. The book examines our attachment to places and the objects we produce, own, share, and exchange.

Naipaul, V S. 2001. A House for Mr. Biswas. New York: Vintage Books

V.S. Naipaul, a Trinidadian-British writer of Indian descent, penned A House for Mr. Biswas in 1961. The novel delves into the struggles of identity and belonging in postcolonial Trinidad, within a society coming to terms with its colonial past and striving for self-definition.

A key theme of the novel is Mr. Biswas’ deep sense of alienation, which begins at birth (he was born with six fingers) and continues throughout his life (as a poor person born into a high or worthy caste). Another central theme is Mr. Biswas’ quest to establish an authentic identity and attain independence from the oppressive Tulsi family, who embody traditional values and communal living. The novel mirrors colonial Trinidad’s changing social and cultural landscape, capturing the conflict between modernity and tradition—Mr. Biswas embodies an emerging individualistic mindset, often conflicting with the Tulsi family’s commitment to collectivism.

This novel encapsulates the intergenerational grief and trauma experienced in the Indo-Caribbean diaspora. Its genuine yearning for self-determination against traditional values illustrates the inherent disconnect. The Lion House, a cultural symbol on the main road in Chaguanas, Trinidad, reminds me of my ancestors’ journeys to start anew.

RitualS iN INteRioRity/FemiNiSt Theory aNd CRitique

Bahadur, Gaiutra. 2013. Coolie Woman, the Odyssey of Indenture. University Of Chicago Press.

This novel tells the story of the author’s great-grandmother, who journeyed from Bihar, India, to Guyana to work as an indentured servant on the sugar cane plantations. In the novel, Bahadur not only shares her great-grandmother’s story but also sheds light on the repressed history of around a quarter of a million other coolie women, providing insight into their complex lives. The term ‘coolie’ is considered derogatory, as colonizers used it to refer to women from India and China who worked on plantations. This book highlights the forgotten histories of the women who came as indentured laborers and their reconciliation with displacement, poverty, sexuality, womanhood, and assimilation.

What’s intriguing is how this book reflects my family’s history: my 3rdgreat-grandmother, pregnant and alone, traveled by boat to work on a sugar cane plantation. She was told that her husband would join her, but to this day, we are unsure if this was meant to coerce her or if he ever made it out of India. It raises questions of whether she was a victim of human trafficking and domestic abuse - why would she leave India alone and pregnant?

Morrison, Toni. (1987) 1987. Beloved. London: Vintage.

Toni Morrison, an African American author, won the Nobel Prize for Literature for her work in the Beloved trilogy. As described by the Laureate committee, “who in novels characterized by visionary force and poetic import, gives life to an essential aspect of American reality.”

Beloved was published in 1987 and won the Pulitzer Prize for Literature. It is based on the life of Margaret Garner, who escaped with her family from slavery in Kentucky to Ohio. The book is written with magical realism, which addresses the trauma of slavery and its intergenerational effects—the novel centers on the experiences of African American women. While the book helps readers understand how narratives of slavery and freedom are shaped by both gender and race, it offers a profound critique of the historical silencing of marginalized voices.

SubVeRSiVe VoiCeS

Plath, Sylvia. “ Daddy .” The Poetry Foundation., accessed 09/15/, 2024, https:// www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48999/daddy-56d22aafa45b2.

Sylvia Plath’s poem “Daddy,” written in 1962, is a personal reflection that delves into themes of displacement and patriarchal oppression. Plath’s alienation from her father symbolizes a broader psychological displacement. She feels trapped by his oppressive influence, which mirrors the restrictive structures of patriarchy and the perpetuation of gender roles at this time.

The WaitiNG Room

“A Broken House” — Re-Creating the Syria of His Memories, through Miniatures. Directed by Jimmy Goldblum. The New Yorker, 2021.

Mohamad Hafez is an architect and artist whose work humanizes the stories of refugees in their homeland by incorporating them into architecture. He uses found objects, paint, and scrap metal to respond to the atrocities of the Syrian war. Hafez’s art depicts cities besieged by civil war to capture the magnitude of the devastation and expose the fragility of human

life. Despite the violence of war, his art incorporates verses from the Holy Qur’an, imbuing it with subtle hopefulness. The documentary shows his painful story as a refugee who has been unable to return to his homeland, Syria, and has fragmented his family. His work is often placed within suitcases, which proves a particular temporality and reinforces the temporal meaning of space to displaced people, who usually have only memories as permanent recollections of spaces, places, and culture.

“UNPACKED: Refugee Baggage “. https://sway.cloud.microsoft/GMWCJvt4lU1g5jRh?ref=Link&loc=play.

The two-part exhibition showcases textiles from the Helen Louise Allen Textile Collection alongside the artwork of Syrian-born artist and architect Mohamad Hafez and Iraqi-born writer and public speaker Ahmed Badr. Badr collected personal stories of refugees from Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and Sudan. Hafez then recreated war-torn household interiors as miniature dioramas inside suitcases, using these stories as inspiration. The resulting multimedia sculptures encourage viewers to see the Helen Louise Allen Textile Collection objects in a new light.

Green, Leanne, Hannah Vollam, Ana Carden-Coyne, Chrisoula Lionis, and Angeliki Rousseau. 2022. Traces of Displacement: Exhibition Guide.

The “Traces of Displacement” exhibition at the Whitworth Art Gallery explored the intricate narratives of forced displacement through various artistic expressions. From April 2023 to January 2024, the exhibition featured nearly 80 works, including textiles, paintings, and multimedia pieces that reveal stories of conflict, migration, and resilience. Curated with input from individuals who have experienced displacement, the exhibition emphasized the personal and collective trauma, creativity, and politics of asylum. It included historical and contemporary perspectives, addressing events such as colonialism and the slave trade while delving into modern asylum-seeking experiences. Artists used various mediums, including painting, textiles, and poetry, to challenge dominant narratives and share nuanced stories. Collaboration with displaced individuals ensures authentic representation and encourages community dialogue.

The exhibition brought to light themes that displaced people often face, including detention and displacement, intergenerational trauma (the body is the record), recollection of memories and experiences (after images), the transatlantic slave trade, female empowerment (humanitarianism and gender), the politics of rescue, displacing environments, and threads of displacement.

APPENDIX

Acknowledgements

This work exists because of the generosity and wisdom of many. My deepest gratitude goes to the participants who shared their stories, recipes, photographs, and insights throughout this project. I am especially grateful to those who joined the cyanotype workshops and cooking sessions, bringing cultural knowledge, creative energy, and profound resilience to our collaborative work. Among them, Ariadna Villedna’s contributions to both the cookbook and photography project illuminated how cultural practices adapt and evolve through displacement, profoundly shaping my understanding of threshold experiences. Though many others remain unnamed for privacy, their experiences and knowledge form the foundation of this work. The threshold spaces explored here were shaped by their lived expertise and creative adaptations to displacement.

I am profoundly grateful to my advisors, Maria Linares Trelles and Arianna Deane, whose guidance challenged me to bridge theory and practice with rigor and compassion. Maria’s insights on participatory methodologies and Arianna’s perspective on spatial justice fundamentally shaped my approach. Their unwavering support and critical feedback helped me navigate complex questions of ethics, representation, and design intervention in contexts of displacement. I also thank Michele Gorman for being the most gracious tour guide in taking me through Sunset Park, whose local knowledge and community connections were invaluable to my understanding of the neighborhood’s dynamics.

To my professors who became mentors, thank you for believing in me. Your encouragement to pursue challenging questions and push beyond conventional boundaries gave me the confidence to undertake this work.

This research would not have been possible without the collaboration of community organizations in Sunset Park. I thank the teams at UPROSE, Mixteca, and Center for Family Life for the work they do in Sunset Park and for inspiring the research and thoughtful conversations. Their commitment to community empowerment and cultural resilience provided both inspiration and grounding for this project.

For technical and material support, I thank Jonsara Ruth and Noellia Surpris at the Healthy Materials Lab for sustainable living and a keener understanding of the impact of materials. Their expertise in material health and sustainability influenced not only the execution of this project but also my broader approach to design ethics and environmental responsibility.

My colleagues in the MFA Interior Design Program at Parsons created a community of critical engagement and mutual support. I am grateful to the entire class of 2025—sixteen remarkable designers whose diverse perspectives, constructive critiques, and unwavering solidarity made this journey not just bearable but truly enriching. Our late-night studio sessions, impromptu critiques, and shared meals sustained this work in more ways than one. The collective wisdom and creativity of this cohort have left an indelible mark on both this project and my design practice.

To Devon, my incredible best friend, thank you for translating my madness into the zine. Your ability to understand my vision and transform it into something tangible brought clarity to this work when I needed it most.

To my incredible family, my rocks and greatest support, my grandma for the endless stories, I hope to make you all proud. For those who have passed, my Nana, Mama Sal and Papa Shaff, you are all a part of me and the research I did.

My parents, brother Azhar Ali and sister, Raisa Ali, and darling sister-inlaw, Kunza. It was never possible without you all. I love you all.

Finally, I acknowledge the land on which this research took place—the traditional and unceded territory of the Lenape people. As a project concerned with displacement and belonging, this work attempts to reckon with the ongoing impacts of colonization while imagining more just futures for all who seek home.

They say it takes a village, and I am so grateful for mine. Thank you all.