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Making Space in the Margin
The goal of this letter is to make space for vulnerability in the professional discourse of architecture and design. Being vulnerable in architectural conversation alone is a revolutionary practice. It is an honest attempt for me, as the author, to share with you, dear reader, that I am tired. Please excuse my candid honesty and lack of formality in this letter. Waymaking is hard. Path making is hard. Foundation building is hard. And we too often neglect conversations on the mental, emotional, and physical labor that goes into making space from within a margin. Being a black woman in architecture is a marginal condition. Being of any minority group in design and architecture is a marginal condition. There is a weight that comes with that position.
With that weight is a desire, and within that desire…somewhere… is a practice, a finished book, a lecture. It is all the things that we can envision already being done, but are still on the path to finding. It’s the end goal in the present, absent of all of the overwhelming stress that it takes to get there. It’s the joy of the dream.
In a less poetic explanation, that weight may also be a sentiment that you must strive to be the best, or maybe even the first, and most likely not for yourself. There is a rabid zeal pushing you beyond the natural capabilities of human flesh for the sake of pathfinding and waymaking. To be an example for those interested in this barrier-filled field that may happen to look like you.
Independent of the previous letters, this letter is hinged on my personal experience, because above all, I want this platform to be a space where those in the margins feel seen. Where the struggle is recognized and not hushed. BAD.d is a space where sacrifices are to be seen and acknowledged.
As a young professional seeking licensure in architecture, I often spend so much of my time looking for opportunities to grow and learn. Sometimes it is hard to find balance, stability, peace, and joy in the margin of this professional pursuit, which honestly feels like a gimmick at times. The scale is constantly in flux, and the margin is constantly moving. At this moment, I find that it takes more effort to dream. Possibly even an allocated time to dream. The goal seems farther, just slightly intangible of a fingertip's reach. But even though on Monday and Tuesday, some of my goals seem impossible, by Thursday and Friday, some of them have already been achieved. What a funny thing success is… and ambition, and zeal, and drive, and determination, and resilience, and all of the things that make the impossible more and more of a reality every day (please excuse my run-on).
I say all of this to encourage you, reader, (and maybe even to encourage myself alongside you) to find where you can make space in the margin. The space may begin slim and thin, on an edge, or in a fringe, but there is still space for creativity. There is still just enough space to aspire… or dare I say dream. And when the freedom that exists in the margin, outside of the lined page, outside of the gridded structure, begins to expand, the notes from the margin will bleed into the body of the page.
Oftentimes, the margin holds the most information. It's where the most important notes are – where the call-outs live… where the red pen thrives. The margin is a place of growth and self-correction. It is a free space, freely available for endless possibilities.
So, at a time where the bulk of the regimented structure of whatever it is that fills your page might be overwhelming (potentially even filled with stress), where it might be inundated with the anxieties of the world and all of the unknowns of the future, remember that you can and should expand to break the margin.
Written by Keren Dillard