Homebody

Theres this theme of Home that can often be witnessed at the center of most of my work. Its been subconsciously intentional — and lately I’ve been exploring the why behind it. Like, How could someone so rooted and committed to uplifting familial legacies be so uncertain about home? Or noticing how trauma, abuse, and violence experienced in the physical vessel that we call home can inform so much of one’s life.

I’ve laid my head down under many roofs, but only a few I can associate with the feeling of home. At times, I’ve witnessed myself speaking of my adolescence and I always refer to my childhood home as, “the house I grew up in.” Not home, just merely, “the house I grew up in.” And then I ask myself, why? I recall in my college years a friend asked me, “Quincy, why do you move around so much? What are you searching for … or better yet, what are you running away from?” I was taken aback... and maybe even offended. I didn’t know the answer then, and in many ways my ego was hurt by such an inquiry. But this question, in all of its innocence, brought to the surface that there were wounds that needed tended to. And yet, this very inquiry was the catalyst that allowed me to get clear about these wounds through my creative work.

Thirteen years later, I am still getting clear. I have been exploring the root of it all - surveying what safety feels like for me in this season and how healing our nervous system, in many ways, is a portal … an invitation, to home.

I share with you some places from my hometown of Columbus Georgia; where safety and the lack thereof, coincide.