Of Belonging: Mapping Hierarchies Within the Home
Aryaa Nayak - 26

 
The house is often imagined as a space of comfort, equality, and familiarity. Yet, like any designed environment, it does encode hierarchies, permissions, and patterns of belonging. Rather than outright displaying these differences, the domestic space reveals them through patterns of movement: who occupies which spaces, who passes through them, and who remains in the periphery. Observing my own home through these patterns makes visible subtle negotiations of gender, age, labour, and authority that structure the everyday.

The most striking realisation is that the house does not function as one shared territory. Instead, it is composed of micro-domains, semi-private worlds that overlap but are shared only occationally.

My mother’s movement traces a rather quadrilateral route between the bedroom, her study area, the dining space, and the hall, with occasional entry into the kitchen. Her spatial presence reflects a balance between professional work and domestic life. The existence of a dedicated study area is particularly meaningful, as it recognizes her need for focus and intellectual independence within the home. Yet her relationship with this space is not purely functional; at times she goes there not to work, but simply to be, to sit in silence. Her regular presence in the hall further places her within the shared life of the house, rather than at its edges. At the same time, her movement around the dining space and kitchen reflects how domestic responsibilities still remain loosely associated with her, even when much of the labour is supported by hired help. Her movement through the house is fluid and unrestricted, moving freely between spaces of work, rest, solitude, and everyday routines. Rather than indicating confinement, this pattern points toward a contemporary home where professional identity and domestic roles overlap naturally instead of being sharply separated. Authority gets access. 

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In contrast, my grandmother’s spatial realm is smaller but extremely ritualized. Her movements are usually between her bedroom, the kitchen, the hall where she watches television, and the study that houses the pooja room. Her restricted movement is less a result of enforcement and more an accumulation of age, habit, and cultural habits. The pooja room becomes a focal point, a space of spiritual authority that extends her presence within the home despite limited movement elsewhere. Equally telling is where she does not go. Apart from the room adjacent to hers, other bedrooms remain largely unentered. These absences create invisible boundaries that are respected without being articulated. Privacy here is less about locked doors but rather a reflection of generational etiquette.

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My father’s pattern reflects intermittent participation rather than spatial limitation. He spends most of his time in the bedroom, sits in the hall, and enters the kitchen only briefly to return his dishes. This is a small but symbolic act suggesting partial engagement with domestic routines.  However, this pattern shifts on weekends, when he takes on the task of cleaning the entire house. This periodic assumption of responsibility signals an active, if not daily, participation in domestic labour. He uses the study occasionally, typically when my mother is not occupying it vice versa; showing a sense of mutual understanding rather than direct discussion for utilizing a shared space.

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Meanwhile, my grandfather’s movement in the house is the most contained. He mostly stays in his room and only moves to the dining table for meals, rarely entering the kitchen. This absence is telling, but it isn’t about stubbornness or chauvinism. Other women are usually in the kitchen, the space feels unfamiliar, and at his age, adapting has become harder. In his previous home, he used to share cooking responsibilities, but in my mother’s home, the same rhythm doesn’t exist. Still, when the kitchen is empty, he quietly makes his cup of tea or fills the water bottles, small gestures that show he can move in the space when he feels able. The balcony, on the other hand, is what he claims as his for a good part of the day. Here he sits and reads for almost four hours, a part of his daily ritual. It’s his vantage position, a place from which he can observe and interact with everyone in the house, participating in the household rhythm on his own terms.

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The spatial behaviour of the househelp reveals another layer of domestic hierarchy. The kitchen is their primary space, emerging not merely as a workplace but also a social space where they interact with one another, almost claiming it as theirs. Yet this occupation is paradoxical. While they are essential to the functioning of the household, their visibility is moderated. They attempt to remain hidden, avoiding the hall unless necessary, and use corner rooms for rest, to speak on the phone or leisure only when the head of the house is absent. The phrase “head of the house” becomes powerful here. Presence alone can alter behavioural patterns. When authority is physically present, movement contracts and becomes more formal, guarded; when it is absent, the house briefly expands to include those who usually operate at its margins.

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This reveals how class operates architecturally without requiring physical barriers. No walls forbid entry, yet behavioural codes produce boundaries just as effectively. This became particularly evident during a brief period when our previous cook stayed with us temporarily due to unforeseen housing circumstances. Although she shared a bedroom with my sister and me, her presence subtly altered the atmosphere of the house. Everyday routines acquired a heightened sense of awareness, as if the existing order had been renegotiated. Despite invitations to eat with us on the table, she chose to eat earlier in the kitchen, seated on the floor. The hesitation did not stem from instruction but from an internalized understanding of where she perceived she belonged. Physical proximity did not translate into social ease. Instead, it made visible the deeply embedded behavioural boundaries that influence the structure of domestic life, even when the space may be accommodating.

 

Interestingly, my sister and I experience the house differently. We move freely across rooms without explicit restriction. This movement reflects a shift toward better spatial equality within the younger generation. However, this freedom is not accidental. It is enabled by both class privilege and changing attitudes within the family. The ability to inhabit the entire house without hesitation itself becomes a form of spatial power.

Each room becomes an extension of the self, a territory that does not require surveillance or constant access. Because of this, the house maintains what appears to be a balanced sense of equality. There are no overt exclusions, no locked thresholds, and no explicitly forbidden rooms. However, equality here should not be mistaken for sameness. Instead, it operates through negotiated distances. Viewing the house through this lens raises an important architectural question: how might design soften these invisible hierarchies without disrupting comfort? A house is never neutral. It is an active member itself, in shaping relationships, permissions, and belonging. Difference does not always announce itself through conflict; more often, it stays in habitual rhythms and unspoken understandings.

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A house is never neutral. It is an active member itself, in shaping relationships, permissions, and belonging. Difference does not always announce itself through conflict; more often, it stays in habitual rhythms and unspoken understandings. At the same time, the very architecture that mirrors these patterns can also help transform them. Can architectural strategies redistribute power and presence without compromising comfort or familiarity?

By designing for visibility, flexibility, and shared occupation, the domestic interior can get closer to genuine spatial inclusivity. Design does hold the potential to soften invisible hierarchies while maintaining the familiarity of home. Porous transitional spaces could encourage informal encounters rather than structured gatherings, and the kitchen, for instance, could shift from a concealed service area to a semi-open social space. How can homes provide dignified spaces of pause for househelp without reinforcing marginality?

Close observation of my own home has shown that design does not begin as an abstract process, detached from those who inhabit and move through it, but emerges from attention to how people move, which spaces remain unused, and how these subtleties shape our sense of belonging.