What Makes a Home
What Makes a Home?
a study abroad journal by Jules Crosby
This journal (er, an extended and much more appropriate version of it) was submitted as part of my study abroad final project. The entire final paper is way too long, so I chose to omit some ethnographic research and statistics about the African presence in Czechia from this version (for instance, periods of African migration into the region from the late 1940’s to the mid-70’s).
For the sake of ease and pleasurable reading, I also cut down on some other details too, including a larger exposition written about the ‘1870 brick wall phenomenon’-- an obstruction in American lineage that continues to deprive millions of African-Americans of information regarding their heritage and ancestry, contributing to my own troubles in finding a sense of home. Read more here: Lost Lineage: The quest to identify black Americans' roots
If you’re interested in all that stuff, you’re weird. And I like you. I’d be glad to forward you the full research paper! Reach out to me at jrc298@miami.edu for any questions.
Study Abroad Vlog attached at the end. stay tuned for a special study abroad podcast coming soon to gravity’s website, featuring a couple of my friends who traveled all throughout the globe last semester.
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I’m on a journey to find home. Kind of like Nemo, but definitely not as adorable. I also fucking hate Nemo, but that’s another story, chile. Most people ascribe a sense of “home” to the place they were born and raised, but growing up in a military family has always made the term ‘home’ feel a bit more elusive to me. I moved too much to ever grasp the concept of home. I was always on the road. As such, I’ve come to define the stages of my childhood by the never-ending goodbye’s, the McDonald’s drive-thrus, the hours upon hours of driving, the different highways, the views out the backseat window of my family’s 2006 Dodge Caravan….
It’s only until recently that I’ve uncovered this personal passion of mine to find a place to call “home”. I blame television.
As a screenwriting student in college, I’ve seen some of the best shows utilize elements of their home as active characters in their art. Insecure would be a fundamentally different project without the presence of Inglewood, and comedies such as Atlanta and Southside would quite literally cease to exist without the backdrops of Atlanta and Chicago, respectively. And it’s upon examining this impressive list of shows that I start to feel—in complete transparency—less than. Inferior. Like, I’m missing something in my life that’s keeping me from being the artist I seek to be. There’s lots to love about the place I currently live: Jacksonville, FL. I’ve lived here for the past decade or so. The weather, an aggressively below average football team with lots of deranged spirit, the access to the beach…. It’s nice. But, as for writing an entire series based on my time here? As for feeling creative inspiration? It’s a no from me. And that’s my business.
In north Florida, I’ll lie in my bed and still feel hyper aware that the space around me is just four walls, a roof, shingles, furniture and a stucco finish. The house itself is beautiful and the renovations are absolutely killer mom and dad, don’t you worry. Big fan. But, I still have no real understanding of this grand notion of ‘home’-- the type of place that evokes a different emotional feeling than just a simple house. Spanish makes a differentiation between house and home with two different words: casa v. hogar. The former is more generic, while the latter assumes more of a personal connection/affinity for the place one lives in.
My house is in north Florida, but my home isn’t here. Because my people aren’t here. My heart isn’t here (yes, I finished a Nicholas Sparks movie before writing this, just flow with it).
Going to college– the University of Miami– helped me develop a concept of ‘home’ in my own personal life. Miami does feel like home in some ways, but saying that out loud immediately sends me into crippling bouts of self-inflicted imposter syndrome. Miami is the first place where my interactions with the setting itself– the people, the culture, the land have tangibly changed the fabric of my life. I’ve watched my own personal growth blossom in front of my own eyes. From high school to now, I feel like an entirely different human being. And while I attribute my development to the city of Miami, do I reserve the right to call Miami home for that reason? What even makes a home?
This was the question plaguing my mind as I boarded my Delta Air Lines flight to Prague, Czech Republic in January of this year. I was craving home. A place that I could memorize like the back of my hand. An area where I felt at real peace. A fresh start to root myself, on my own terms. But, I started to wonder, could Black people even make home within these extremely white, central European borders?
To answer these existential questions about Black life and notions of belonging to space, I reached out to an organization in the Czech Republic known as MelaninKidsCzSk on social media. Melanin Kids CZ/SK was established in 2017 by Samira Jasim to connect and empower Black/ mixed-race folk living in Czechia and Slovakia.
Jasim was born in the Czech Republic and moved to London at the age of nineteen; it was during her time in London that she was given the space to develop her Black/mixed-race identity and resonate more with her culture. In a phone conversation between Jasim and I she stated that, “I kind of had my awakening in London.”
Serving nearly three thousand individuals from all over the world, Jasim’s vision has blossomed into a central hub for social events, fundraisers, networking, as well as providing overarching comfort and security for its members. In the wake of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, Melanin Kids CZ/SK transformed itself into an extraordinary resource to help the resettlement of Ghanaian and Nigerian refugees. Most everyone in the group got involved to some capacity; Melanin Kids CZ/SK even went as far as to help establish a database for individuals seeking localized assistance, in addition to hosting clothing donation drives, preparing hot food, and opening up their own homes. I’m really grateful to have been surrounded by people with such empathetic souls in Melanin Kids CZ/SK. Truthfully, I’m not sure Americans would look out for asylum seekers to the same degree.
Through Melanin Kids CZ/SK, I was also able to connect with three Black folk of various backgrounds living in the Czech Republic; Grace, born and raised here; Josh, a resident of the South Moravian city Brno; and Chanda, who has spent the past four years living in Prague. It was after my conversation with all three individuals that I came to a conclusion about my own journey to find “home”. These interviews were conducted in April/May 2022.
INTERVIEWS
GRACE NSOHA, (SHE/HER)
The first individual I sat with was 18-year old Grace Nsoha (she/her), a first-year International Relations student at Anglo American University. Nsoha was born to Nigerian parents in Unhošť, a town located in the Kladno District within the Central Bohemian region of the Czech Republic, about 28 km away from Prague. For most of her life, Nsoha attended an American, English-speaking school, while also being surrounded by Czech people on a daily basis. For Nsoha, growing up around a community of white people came with its difficulties– ie: self-identity. Despite the obstacles, however, Nsoha feels affirmed in her Czech identity stating that, “Growing up and being born here, I do see myself as Czech and I always have.”
Connecting with Black culture in Prague was another learning curve for Nsoha, who at first believed that she “didn’t need Black friends to understand [her] own Blackness.” As she grew up, however, she soon came to realize that “you really do need Black friends.”
For Nsoha, she found community through the Melanin Kids CZ/SK network. Beyond the group, Nsoha has also developed her own sense of Blackness by diving into her own Nigerian heritage-- often overlooked in school history lessons taught by white American professors, as she goes on to state that “we, as Black people, have to educate ourselves about ourselves or else no one is going to.”
Nsoha further evolves her own sense of Blackness through her relationships in life-- whether it be her few Black friends or the strong bond she holds with her brother and sister. Human connection is important to Nsoha, who ultimately defines the concept of home based on the people she surrounds herself with, stating that, “The people I’m around make home feel like home. It can be my family, but it’s also more than that. I can see a random Czech person and if they are doing something that’s super ‘Czech’, it makes me feel as if we’re the same. I also feel the same way in Nigeria. Like when I see some things that are just so Nigerian….that’s home.” She goes on to conclude her testimony by asserting that “both Nigeria and the Czech Republic feel like home to me.”
CHANDA MWAPE, (SHE/HER)
My next chat was with Chanda Mwape. Mwape hails from Lusaka, Zambia and moved to Prague in the fall of 2018 to study law at the University of London– a program available through the Anglo-American University in Prague. Upon her arrival to Prague, Mwape admitted that her anxiety was initially spiked by the immediate “eyes” she always felt on her. How did she move past the constant stares? “I don’t give the stares power anymore,” she commands mid-interview.
Life started to change for the better as the pandemic began to wane. Mwape found herself opening up more– learning she’s more of an extrovert than she initially thought. Some of her newfound social activities included programming by MelaninKids CZ/SK.
“The Melanin Kids group— surrounding myself with vibrant Black folk— felt like home. I’d been missing this. I’d been craving this, and didn’t know until I was in this space.”
Mwape truly believes she has developed her own sort of family in Prague: “And in some way, their love is more unconditional than my biological family. It’s like my own chosen family out here.”
A bit ago, family was a crucial component of “home” for Mwape, stating in the interview that, “I thought home was defined by my family. That’s why Zambia was home.”
But now, she’s re-evaluating what home truly means for her, incorporating her own unsettled feelings about returning to Zambia at the end of the school year into her newfound realization: “I became an adult in Prague. I moved here at 18, so in a lot of ways I’ve become more of myself. I’ve defined myself in this environment. It’s going to be hard to go back home to people who knew me as a child and have to accept this different person.”
So, what is home for the 21-year old law student then? In conversation, she still refers to Zambia as home. But, internally?
“I’m not sure what home is yet,” Mwape begins. “I’d be lying if I said I had it all figured out. Prague didn’t necessarily feel like home, but it gave me the space and freedom to remove myself from constant voices and pressures that I felt loyal to. Being here allowed me to be more true to my own voice, in a way. It’s freedom. This place has given me freedom…. Being in Prague has taught me not to be afraid to grow. And not to be afraid to put myself in spaces that aren’t the most comfortable for me. Because there is always something beautiful that can result from that experience,” Mwape finishes.
JOSHUA BEST, (HE/HIM)
Originally from Barbados, Joshua Best stands out from the rest of my interviewees in more ways than one. As both of my previous chats were with residents of Prague, I was intrigued by Bests’ interview because of his location within Czechia– not in Prague, but rather the South Moravian city of Brno. And if you know anything about Czech culture, you know that Prague versus Brno is the Jacob versus Edward of city rivalries.
Best explains the difference at the start of the interview, “Brno is much different than Prague. It’s true what people say— Brno is just a big village. You see, Prague in the least is a metropolitan city,” he adds, “There’s tons of different people there, so there’s a mix of a lot of various cultures. Whereas in Brno, it doesn’t matter who moves there— the city and culture will forever remain Czech. It’s very Czech. And South Moravian people are especially proud of their region.”
Best loves the authenticity in Brno, but his transition to the second-largest city in the Czech Republic was not always easy: “My first couple of months in Brno were terrible. I wanted to go home so bad. I’m not even kidding…. I found myself asking why people were always staring all the time. Laughing. And it was weird because I was just… existing.”
Bests’ move to Prague is encapsulated best in his own words, “Came for love, stayed for work.” Best maintained a long-distance romance with his Czech girlfriend before she convinced him to move to Brno with her– and in a way, it has helped Best gather what home really means to him.
“Home is people. I don’t believe home is a place.” He breaks his concept of home down further: “I feel like more of a stranger when I go back home to [Barbados] now. And it’s weird, because I’m from there. Why don’t I feel like I belong there?’
Best continues to grow more fond of his lifestyle in Brno in the meanwhile, adding that, “You get to meet people from Azerbaijan, Macedonia, Romania— an infinite continuum of different people and different backgrounds. Yet, we all like beer.” Best chuckles as he makes note of the well-documented pastime of Czech locals (fact: Czechia leads all nations in beer consumption per capita). “Home is where your heart strings pull most. And as for right now, Brno has become the epicenter of where I’ve started to root myself— physically, emotionally and spiritually.”
Ultimately, Best still considers Barbados home, although he does vouch for those to travel away from their home country to develop personal growth. And he’ll always be thankful for his time in Brno: “Some places are just transitory, however, every place you go to— you leave with something. I came here as a boy and I’ll most certainly leave here as a man.”
A metaphor he mentioned at the end of our conversation stuck with me for several moments after our chat. He stated that we must, “think of the journey of life as being one large plane-ride. But some runways, you don’t have to land on.”
REFLECTION
I wouldn’t call Prague home.
But, I found something different instead.
I would call Prague freedom. It felt good to be removed from the politics of American race relations. Gender norms. Fixed notions of sexuality. Fake love we disguise as being ‘American’. Like forreal. Why do we ask each other ‘how are you doing’, if we don’t actually care to hear the response?
I found real happiness in Prague. Parts of Prague where I felt ingrained in the fabric of the environment around me. People and places that made all my face muscles scrunch up into a smile for absolutely no damn reason. I held all of my in-person interviews at the same coffee shop that I’ve come to love, Bo District. The owner is the best. The food is amazing. I knew the waiter and waitress on a first name basis. And I found the restaurant on a fluke– a series of crowded coffee-shops and navigational mishaps led me to the place. And the wood paneled floors, the chai tea lattes, the Amy Winehouse and Erykah Badu on the stereo, the peace and quiet… it all just felt right. I felt secure, comfortable. The main character in my own movie, of sorts. I felt in control when I was here. (It was in this coffee shop that I heard Lorde’s Supercut for the first time. A moment, indeed).
I’m glad I gave Prague everything I had. I made it my personal responsibility to learn as much Czech as I can, even opting to take an Intermediate Czech Language course throughout the semester to learn more terms, grammar tenses and conversational techniques. That shit ruined my GPA, let’s be real. But, I’m glad I took the course. Ask anyone who went on the trip with me, I spoke Czech whenever and wherever I could; I could ‘děkuju moc’ and ‘na shledanou’ my way through most situations, and although it was slightly obnoxious, it meant a lot to the locals.
Taking an effort to understand the language and appreciate local customs transforms a tourist into a considerate traveler. As such, I was able to interact with a lot of individuals that I wouldn’t have otherwise— the Czech filmmaker I met at a coffeeshop, the 80-year-old Czech man who told me about his life directing movies at the back of Cosmai Cafe, the Czech students I taught at the high school across from my dorm, the multitude of club bouncers and restaurant staff…. I was able to absorb stories from people with vastly different experiences than me— and as a writer— that was the biggest gift in the world. Now, did I understand every word? Hell no. Lots of nodding and smiles mixed in. But, I got the gist. And I felt the connection. That’s what matters.
Don’t let the half-enthused smiles fool you (Czechs are known to be reserved with strangers), joy really does float around all over this city. In the bar that I celebrated my 21st birthday and never went back to– petrified of tampering with the precious memory. Shoutout Drunken Monkey. The brunches, the dinners. The park days. The boat rides. The drinks on the river. Shit, honestly the drinks at any location because baby we were drunk, okay. The nights inside my dorm. The clubs. Sleeping at my friend's apartment, geeking to Euphoria or PEN15. The flights. The hotels, hostels and Air BnBs. The trains. The view from Naplavka. The $4 UGO Value Meal. The bus-rides. The cafe’s. The statues, the museums. The underground bars. The art. The Vietnamese-owned markets with the instant Nongshim Ramen and Milka Choco-Minis cookies. The youth culture. The golden B’s– Becherovka, Baba the Barber, Bombay Express. The SURFSHARK VPN that kept me alive; I watched episodes of Abbott Elementary and Atlanta for nutrients. The Kolej Komenskeho breakfast room. And even the ham and cheese popcorn at the Flora IMAX theater. I went to see a movie by myself on 4/20, geeked off a joint. Perhaps the first time I’ve felt pure happiness. I’m not lying. I found it here.
And being thousands of miles away from home gave me the space to work through a lot of my own emotional trauma. I feel different– wholly different from head to toe. I was given the room to really work on myself abroad and grow. You know, fending for yourself makes you wiser in more ways than one. I also credit my evolution to that to the Bible Study plan that carried me throughout the semester. Connecting with God every day was instrumental in keeping me grounded in some sort of purpose during my trip.
I trust myself a lot more after this trip– at least my impulses, for one. I go after what I want with less hesitation now. I’m more apt to trust my brain and guts; if I can survive four months traveling throughout Europe, I can trust myself to handle future problems as they arise. I trust in my purpose, in my path. I trust in my gifts and comprehend my weaknesses. I even trust people a lot more now– white people, more specifically.
I met some cool ass white people abroad. Kind-hearted, caring, genuine people. I had a solid mix of both white-American and Czech friends. And as someone who had previously avoided interaction with white folk following a somewhat chaotic departure from my high school, that was a big deal. Actually enjoying myself in Prague around a new demographic of people meant that I could interact in these environments without feeling as if my personal growth as a Black human would regress. I could laugh and enjoy moments without contradicting my own values. Now, my new environment meant I desperately needed prolonged moments of individual, me-time throughout the week. But I came into Prague with the expectation to learn something about myself, so I openly welcomed moments of solitude. It was nice to crave both the larger social environments as much as my personal alone time.
As much as I’m craving the energy of Miami (and trust me, I am)-- I am so thankful for the people I met out here. I cherish them. I smile when I think of our random memories– the bus conversations, the travel mishaps, the drunken dinners, the general crazy ass nights I probably shouldn’t type out in words for my future employer to see. I have a notes list with a bunch of shit just written down; I look at it from time to time when I’m looking for an instant smile. I’m not sure if I’ll ever see these people again– but, in all seriousness, those memories will last a lifetime. I experienced some of the most vivid and colorful moments in my life out in Prague with these people I consider friends for life. I’m sure I’ll see them in my daydreams from time to time.
God’s greatest gift to you in this world is people. Connections, not based on color, but something even deeper. Gut-wrenching laughs that actually make you pee a little. The animal game that sounds boring as fuck but is literally the most entertaining children’s activity ever created. Like, what an absolute hit. Greek dinners that turn into group dances with that one professor who makes you crave the hug of your grandpa again. Wholesome beach volleyball matches that leave you permanently injured. Club patrons that mistake you for Frank Ocean, but buy you shots anyway (not that I’m complaining at all, please). The unspoken electricity that propels you to fall in love with at least fifty people in a semester (classic Jules energy). Memories are fucking gold. What else can make you laugh (and/or full-body cringe) for absolutely no reason in the middle of the night? Sometimes, those memories feel more valuable than any currency. The good and the bad.
I got to travel the continent: Prague, Brno, Karlovy Vary, Milan, Lake Como, Dresden, Berlin, Vienna, Salzburg, Athens, Mallorca, Dubrovnik, Mostar… As for someone whose out-of-country excursions only included two Carnival Cruises to the Bahamas, I was shook. Still shook. Satisfied for a while, but hungry for even more experiences. Lemme not play Carnival though, I will be back on a cruise soon. Best believe.
My study abroad trip now feels like one, large weekend adventure with a mix of Euphoria-esque light sequences, a few classes, confetti in my pants, lots of kebabs and pizza, some slightly overpriced weed, a number of flights, even more clubs and bars, and way too much walking. Europeans can WALK– like you don’t understand. No Planet Fitness can prepare you. Also, backtracking for a moment and speaking to the weed; my survival was contingent upon the access to weed in Europe. And thank God for such liberal weed legislation throughout most of this continent. Absolute game-changer.
Imagine me: sitting in a park, reading my Bible study and eating strawberries while sipping on an ice-cold merunka (apricot) seltzer, Juicy-J joint in hand. I peaked in life. And I happen to think the liberal drug legislation influences the population as well. No one gives a fuck about anything in Prague. It makes certain social situations a little wild (and oddly sexually charged?), but eh, it evens out. Everyone minds their own business, for real. Even though Czechs drink a shit ton, they do it responsibly. You won’t see the falling-over-your-feet on the sidewalk type of drunk energy on a weekend. Given the city-wide quiet hours and general sentiment of order and tradition, the nature of Prague’s social scene is much more contained and controlled. Well, until you get inside the bar or club. That’s a different story.
Despite the incredible highs (lol, I actually didn’t even mean to make this a pun) I’m still searching for home. And that’s okay. It gives my life purpose. Like I’m in some sort of urbanized Indiana Jones movie– on the adventure of a lifetime, but like make it low-budget. And remove the whip and crossbow and replace it with a joint and lighter. My weapons of choice, naturally. The whip gives too much ancestral baggage.
Moving forward, I’ve committed to being more gentle with myself. Less pressure and more applause. I’m proud of myself for taking an experience that allowed me to grow– not always in a linear direction, but further from where I started nonetheless.
And ultimately, I believe home is a condition. A feeling that starts from within and grows. Home describes a place that provides one with utmost comfort. An existence somewhere on this Earth that brings you love as it brings you warmth, happiness and everything in between. Home is shelter from physical storms but also the more mental storms in life. Home is a combination of not just where you live, but the people you surround yourself with and the connection you maintain with the land, history and culture around you as well. And as much as I hate myself for ending the paper like this– because I really do feel as if a couple Hannah Montana episodes would’ve brought me to the same conclusion… I must reveal my findings after this four-month journey. Home, is in fact, where the heart is.
MY SEMESTER IN PRAGUE: a video journal
