Building Inclusive + Inspirational Spaces in the COVID Era
This post was meant to be about something else.
This post was meant to be about how to create inclusive spaces, a topic I am deeply passionate about, but I couldn’t wrap my head around what I actually wanted to say. So I procrastinated.
I sat at my house in between virtual meetings, and distance learning, and camp coordination, and project managing a family calendar, and keeping our business going, and virtually meeting members, and hosting COVID relief digital conversations, and grieving the loss of life in our community, and navigating daily new unknowns and slowly falling apart… and I sat in my house and stared at my screen wondering what I could possibly say about inclusive spaces that mattered in the midst of all this trauma.
One day it landed on me hard; I was struggling to write this piece because somewhere in the midst of the emotional and physical pummeling of the COVID era, I had begun to deprioritize the importance of space. In my effort to stay both safe, and efficient, I myself hadn’t spent much time in our spaces as a member of our community. I had deprioritized my emotional space by depriving it of the physical spaces that inspire me.
So this post is not just about how to create an inclusive space — but rather how vital it is — now more than ever to have spaces created to inspire and protect us.
So you want to create an “inclusive space”
As someone intent on creating inclusive spaces you first need to make peace with your blindspots and limitations in lived experience. Although I lead the design of our spaces, as a white woman, I recognize it is essential to not allow my choices and likes to be the only design represented. That narrative is too singular, too specific and, frankly, all too present in many spaces already.
In executing our design at The Coven, we collaborated with folks of a myriad of generations, cultural backgrounds, races, sizes, and gender identifications to ensure we acknowledge, honor, and celebrate a multitude of lived experiences within our spaces. This commitment is embodied in elements as diverse as the size and scale of our furniture, the art on our walls, the naming of our rooms, the books on our shelves, and the lighting in our spaces. We are constantly engaging with artists across media to bring different perspectives into the space and create pieces that reflect their lives. In my experience, artists — especially geographically local artists — are truth-bearers, their pieces will provide moments of reflection and recognition — a visual language for anyone who visits to feel seen through another’s work, to feel validated in their own experience.
If you take away anything from this section let it be this: Engage with Local Artists. Pay Local Artists. Invest in Local Artists. They will unlock the possibilities of your community.
Recognizing the equation of Physical Space, Culture and Emotional Environment
From the start of The Coven we set out to create spaces that felt unlike anywhere else — a place where our members could feel physically and psychologically safe to shed their armor and be any version of themselves they needed that day. But the ability to have your community be vulnerable enough to feel safe is a privilege that is earned through trust. Our members didn’t just become vulnerable because we told them to be, we earned that trust (and keep re-earning it) by building a culture and experience of being seen, celebrated and respected. It’s important to note that the culture we’re helping to build within The Coven is not simply set and projected; that is the difference between a brand and a culture. A brand has a definitive, set perspective and beckons you to join if you want to be like that brand. A culture is made up of the patterns, behaviors and environment that occurs when folks come together. When I describe the design of our space and how it relates to culture, it has been important to acknowledge upfront that we are not building a culture from scratch — we’re holding space for cultures, stories and experiences to unfold. A space cannot feel psychologically or physically safe if it is imposed on you, no matter how beautiful, cool or shiny it is. A physical space in itself is only part of the equation — true inclusivity extends to every touch point with staff, communication channel, process and interactions in and around your space.
You will not achieve an inclusive space with a perfectly architected physical environment; you must pour the same rigor and care in architecting the components of your emotional environment as well.
To be inclusive means to be in the path of inspiration
One of the many tragedies of the COVID era has been a loss of access to the spaces that make us feel alive. To distance socially means not only to restrict our interaction with others, but also interactions with the spaces that may unlock us. I, too, have found myself staying confined to my home office for efficiency and ease, and although these are valid and rightful needs, they have also kept my imagination confined. In his book “How to Write One Song” (which is about a load more than that), Jeff Tweedy writes that to access his own talent he has to work the process every day, that “inspiration is rarely the first step. When it does come out of the blue it’s glorious … but most of the time, inspiration has to be invited.”
Inclusive spaces are not created in a vacuum, on a moodboard, or business plan. They are designed through curiosity and inquiry and maintenance. They are a living entity, changing and growing with the needs of their contributors. They are physical spaces, yes — but they are also the shared experiences of all those who choose to participate. That’s where I got stuck all those months ago when I couldn’t remember how important physical space can be. I wasn’t participating in the space itself, I wasn’t making a practice of being in the path of inspiration and taking part in the contributions of our members in our spaces. To build an inclusive space means being a part of it, listening, and evolving into the feedback and inspiration the community provides.
In the past couple of months I’ve built a pattern that gets me out of my house and into the spaces that inspire me. I’ve enjoyed my business as a member and not just an owner. I’ve been reminded of the importance and power of a safe, inclusive space in the scariest and most divisive of times. At our core, The Coven designs radical spaces for changemakers to connect, learn, and thrive. This is just as true now as it ever was.
