The Home I Built, The Town I Endure

The Duality of Home

They say Westport, Massachusetts is a dreamy escape. Picture-perfect beaches, charming lake houses lining the shore, and rolling farmlands overflowing with fresh produce – Some could say I live in a postcard that has come to life. For many, it's a symbol of idyllic New England living.

Photo by Tolga Ahmetler on Unsplash

And then there's my reality.

I'm fortunate. Through my inner strength, my ability to rally a team of people around me, and smart decisions, I own one of the largest homes in my idyllic little neighborhood. It's a testament to dedication (and now more than ever) a source of immense pride. But the town lines hold a different story within.

From the mouth of an ally who was born and raised in the town of Westport and researched its history, the town that boasts pristine beaches also harbors two active Ku Klux Klan groups. The Black Lives Matter sign displayed in a central part of town was a constant target of vandalism, a stark reminder of the undercurrents simmering beneath the surface. Attending my first writing club meeting, I expected camaraderie, but instead, a white member singled me out for guidance on repairing his vandalized BLM sign, instead of bringing it to the attention of the whole writing group, which would have been more advantageous to problem-solving.

This is in a town only recently shedding its sundown town reputation (as late as 1998, according to a fellow writing club member). Sundown town, in U.S. history, is a town that excluded nonwhite people—most frequently African Americans—from remaining in town after sunset. ¹

Home, it seems, is a complex notion. Westport itself doesn't feel like home. The anxieties while walking my dog when the pick-up trucks rev their engines and get uncomfortably close to the curb we are on, the covert harassment disguised as a town violation and an unsolicited lowball offer on my home by neighbors who have never attempted to knock on our door or introduce themselves – all testaments to simmering tensions.

But my lake house? That's the home I built, the walls that echo with laughter, unrelenting love, and the quiet hum of contentment. It's the life I've built – a DINKWAD (dual income, no kids, with a dog) paradise. It's the love of my family, my unwavering confidence, and the fierce awareness that I belong, here and everywhere I choose to be.

My presence may be unwelcome in some corners of this town, but that doesn't diminish my right to claim my space. This house is my crown, and I wear it proudly. Here, within these walls and out of them, I am a Queen, powerful and unapologetically me.

The town may not be perfect, but my home is where my creativity flourishes. I write stories, one word at a time. And that, ultimately, is what defines true belonging, everything I have created oozes love, acceptance, and joy, and that is why I claim space because we all know we need more of that energy in this world.

1. Sundown Towns are all-white communities, neighborhoods, or counties that exclude Blacks and other minorities through the use of discriminatory laws, harassment, and threats or use of violence. The name derives from the posted and verbal warnings issued to Blacks that although they might be allowed to work or travel in a community during the daytime, they must leave by sundown. Although the term most often refers to the forced exclusion of Blacks, the history of sundown towns also includes prohibitions against Jews, Native Americans, Chinese, Japanese, and other minority groups. (blackpast.org)