Imagine walking into a blank room, a room that has bare gray walls and simple tan tufted carpet. Overall, there is nothing exciting going on in that room, not even a little. There is no definition or character in that room whatsoever. However, if you take that same exact room and add color and hang art on the walls, it explodes with energy, right before you. This can have effects on your social life as well as your personal life.
If your residence has nothing that shows or displays who you are it gives people a reason to not spend time with you, at least at your place. Western decor can determine whether or not your friends or co-workers will accept your invite for “game night”. If you add a little flavor to your house or apartment it will attract people like flies to honey. But there is even more of a reason to decorate where you live.
The human brain is something that can be easily influenced by the things it perceives. Let’s say that you have a bad day at work, and it makes you angry, some colors can amplify that anger, while others can soothe you and even make you feel comfortable and happy. When you take different colors and place them next to each other, it can generate different feelings or urges. The colors red and yellow next to each other tend to make one have an appetite. Making your home the way you want it to be will increase mental stability and mental health for yourself.
Adding A Western Rug Really Improved the Look of My Home
Western-style decorations will add characteristic value to the room. Walking into a room that has nicely painted walls and hanged, framed art will attract people who will possibly end up being friends with you. Western decor is something that is incredibly important to your social life. For your own sake, be expressive of who you are and watch the benefits it has on your life as well as those who put themselves around you.
I became accustomed to how my friends and peers would respond when I welcomed them to my house for social gatherings. Enamored by its extravagant beauty and classic elegance, they were infatuated with the ornamentation and décor that to me was a customary aspect of my culture. Overwhelmed in awe, they could not help but always remark on the ornate cursive Arabic calligraphy on the walls or admiringly gawk at the myriad of prayer beads and mats lying around in ethnic tribal baskets and the ornamental western style vases on the vintage tables. Noticing all the diverse rooms, their eyes would drop, enthused over the western lamps, carved mask wall plaques, a western rug, and distinct western prints weaved on the accent pillows and wall borders. They would be infatuated with the ornamentation that to me was a customary aspect of my culture.
Every day, my extended family and I congregated for dinner, indulging in traditional foods from the Middle East and Kenya, including falafel and Ugali. To me, this was just my lifestyle. Yet, to my friends, it was an exotic culture, and they yearned to learn more. Referring to myself as the local guru on my culture, my classmates and inquisitive friends barraged me with inquiries about my faith and origins, such as why I dressed conservatively or why I fasted from sunrise to sunset for a whole month during Ramadan.
This all changed when I visited my mother’s homeland Kenya, a distinct, cultural experience, where my mother shared with me her endless reflections, contemplations, and memories. I realized, just how much I didn’t know or understand, and as I immersed myself into the culture and religion, a sense of pride and belonging welled inside of me. Walking down the crowded and grubby streets of Kenya, the beautiful and lyrical sound of the adhaan, or Islamic call to prayer, would be heard five times a day, and just like my mother had done in her childhood years, we would stop wherever we were and pray, prostrating on the ground. Congregating together for prayer sparked unity and created a strong sense of community in Kenya.
Returning to America, I felt a rekindled sense of pride and newfound patriotism, but through high school and time, I found myself confused with where I really fit in. Was I Kenyan Muslim, Muslim-American, or both? And as I accustomed myself back into the American culture at school, I felt my cultural identity as a Muslim fading away. Apprehensive about mixing my American lifestyle with the traditional Islamic culture I was brought up with, I struggled to maintain a constant identity and felt discomfited as I tried to intertwine myself in the two seemingly opposing cultures, but at least I could come home and enjoy my 8×10 western area rug.
However, as I continued to listen to my parents’ stories about their childhood struggles and adversities, I realized the opportunities America held for me that Kenya and the Middle East did not. This insight urged me to take advantage of the endless opportunities, strive to always do my best, and work industriously in school. Growing up in the rural, impecunious parts of Kenya, my mom had to endure a life of poverty, shame, and misfortune that she brought with her to America. Similarly, my father, who grew up in the Middle East, was beleaguered by seemingly insurmountable problems and was forced to provide for his family on his own. As my perspectives inevitably changed and as I became more open-minded, I found new pride in being culturally diverse, with a deep understanding of not only my faith, but that of others, and an appreciation for my community’s cultural diversity and my own bicultural identity.