AphroChic Magazine: Issue No. 4

IT’S A FAMILY AFFAIR
A Refuge
One of the more interesting functions that my family house has served over the years has been that of a
refuge for members of my family as they made the transition from one stage of life to another. My Uncle
Allen — my grandmother’s brother — lived there for several months after leaving the Air Force. My
uncle Rodney did, too, having served in the Air Force as well. Other family members came and went for a
multitude of reasons. More than once the change in circumstances came after a fire had claimed another
home. For me, the house was my first home. I lived there for a year before my parents moved first into an
apartment, then into the house that I grew up in.
No matter where home was for me,
“The House,” remained a constant, though
it was much emptier by the time I arrived.
In fact, for all of my life before 2005, the
family home was just “Mom-Mom’s house,”
to me. My grandmother lived in the home
alone when I was a kid, and as the youngest
grandchild I had no grasp of how long it
had been in the family, how many of us had
lived there, or what it had meant.
It never occurred to me to wonder
what it was like for her to live alone in a
place that had once been full of so many
people she loved. Whether it felt a little
lonely or if she was grateful for the quiet
wasn’t something she ever expressed to
me. Had I thought to ask, I suspect her
answer might’ve included a little of both.
But whatever her answer might have been,
it wasn’t a question I considered when my
turn came to have the house (mostly) to
myself.
I moved into the house after college
along with my brother Andre. By the time
we took up residence, Mom-Mom, whose
health was dwindling, had moved to live
in my parent’s home. After years of dorm
rooms and tiny apartments, it was good
to have an entire house with what felt like
massive spaces, more bedrooms than
we needed, and one of the tiniest, most
weirdly designed bathrooms either of us
had ever seen.
There’s a reason why real estate
agents say that bathrooms and kitchens
sell houses — it’s because in both cases,
bad ones will seriously impact the experience
of living there. This bathroom
had survived the coming and going of
many family members, but along the way
it had developed both structural and
aesthetic issues. The bathtub and shower
were separate, the latter consisting of
little more than a closet with an ill-fitting
curtain that kept all of the light out
but none of the water in. The sink was too
small, and the toilet was crowded in by the
massive radiator (painted an oppressive
dark green) that actually dominated the
space.
On the aesthetic side, the bathroom
had received a beautiful facelift about
15 years before we moved in. Time had
done its work on the very 1990s look,
It‘s a Family Affair is an ongoing series
focusing on the history of the Black family
home, stories from the Harper family,
and the renovations and restorations of a
house that bonds this family.
Photos by Chinasa Cooper
and from Harper Family Archive
Words by Bryan Mason
Bryan Mason’s grandmother, “Mom-Mom,” Alice Harper
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