Last September, designer and artist Malene Barnett took to Instagram to protest the lack of black representation at the New York Design Center’s annual “What’s New, What’s Next” symposium. In a post that continues to send tremors through the design community, she wrote, “Here we are, look: Black artist[s], designers, and makers—professional, established, and more talented than most. Instagram is full of us.”
After garnering more than 1,500 likes and some 370 comments, Barnett’s virtual provocation became reality: She went on to found the Black Artists + Designers Guild (BADG), an online directory and community for black creatives.
Black interior designers are—of course—not a new force in the field. Veterans like Cecil Hayes, Darryl Carter, and Sheila Bridges, to name just a few, have broken barriers and paved the way for talents such as Nile Johnson, Kesha Franklin, and Iantha Carley. But the fact remains that progress toward diversifying the profession has been glacial: According to recent statistics from the American Society of Interior Designers, black designers account for less than two percent of its membership. “There’s always been a lack of black representation in the art and design world,” Barnett told AD shortly after forming BADG. “I went to school 20 years ago and that was the case. Now, fast forward 20 years, I open magazines, I hear about panels, and I’m experiencing the same thing I did in school.”
With the creation of organizations like hers, professional institutions and media alike are being held accountable to include black designers at their events and on their pages. But is it enough? Will it push the interior design industry to authentically engage with black designers, or will banding together marginalize them? How can the design industry move beyond tokenism? How can the interior design industry move closer to an equitable future, especially in a country that has racism and bias etched deeply into its DNA?
These were just some of the questions AD PRO posed to a group of 25 black interior designers. One thing was clear: They want their work to speak for itself.
Kesha Franklin — Halden Interiors
Franklin established her New York–based design firm in 2018. A self-taught designer with a roster of high-profile clients—including Colin Kaepernick—Franklin is best known for her work on residential and hospitality spaces.
My father had an extensive collection of Architectural Digest and GQ stacked as high as the bed that I’d flip through. I was always aware of beautiful interiors and gorgeous menswear. My dad was a contractor, and he is an artist, but even though he never had any formal training, the people he worked for definitely recognized the talent that he had. He was looking at these magazines, but not seeing his face in them—especially back then.
When I bought my first home with my husband, I did the floor plans myself. I had no idea that this would be something that I would end up pursuing as a career, but I would definitely say that the seed was planted then. Becoming a designer was organic for me, but I’ve always believed you have to go to school to become something. Schooling, to me, was what gave you the accreditation. Because I hadn’t done that, I actually hid in a shell for a very long time, not feeling like I could go to anyone to seek a mentor….I felt like I was discrediting the industry by showing up to an event and saying, “Hey, I’m a designer,” and then they’re saying, “What school did you go to, or who do you study under? What firm do you work for?” I couldn’t answer those questions, so I learned the hard way.
When I went to design events I would be, sometimes, the only black individual in the room, or one of three in a room of 100 attendees. I’d feel very lost. The industry was very cliquey. Even when someone did strike up a conversation, there was this curiosity, like ‘What are you doing here? What’s your story? How did you end up in this room?’ I always felt like I was on an interview when I was in the room, which didn’t make me feel like I was a part of the industry.
I’m not looking for the special treatment because I'm a black designer. I’m looking for equal treatment because I’m good at what I do.
I don’t want to call out a particular publication, but one invited a few of us black designers out, and we went. Even sitting there at the table, they’re like, “You know what, guys? Keep up with the conversation. Keep knocking on the doors.” It infuriated me. Yes, we’re having this conversation and, yes, you want to be supportive. But we’re not looking for that. If you’re telling me that you don’t want my work, or it doesn’t fit your brand because it’s not good, then I’m fine with that. I can change it from being okay, to being better, to being the best. You know what I can’t change? I can’t change my skin color. I can’t change being a black woman. I can’t change being a designer who is black.
Designers speak: On being held to a different standard
“The awareness that I was black came when I started working in France and later in London, but the difference was mostly felt in the U.S. I recall going to some showroom events and feeling singled out as though I somehow did not quite fit the mold. It happened to me again last year when I attended an opening event for the fabulous NYCxDesign. One of my chair designs was featured in a vignette, and I was extremely honored and happy until some of the event-goers asked who designed the chair, and looked at me in disbelief and turned away.” —Marie Burgos, Marie Burgos Design
“I have definitely felt like an outsider within my own industry, and to be honest, at times I still do. It seems to happen in many situations on many different levels. A specific example of this was with a show house that I wanted to be a part of. When I arrived for the first day of designer previews, upon first glance I was told that the rooms had already been assigned, even though this was the first day designers were getting to look at and choose spaces. It wasn’t until the committee members took a look at some of the work posted on my website that they offered me a space.” —Nile Johnson, Nile Johnson Interior Design
“Too often I’m the only one, or one of two persons of color, in a room. It started in design school and is still evident today with each new step in my career. At every turn, there’s an unspoken, never-ending requirement to prove myself talented enough, worthy of consideration, and that I deserve and have earned said opportunity.” —Michel Smith Boyd, Smith Boyd Interiors
“Early in my career, I experienced that ‘qualifier’ moment, where you spend 5 to 10 minutes proving you truly are a professional designer. From showrooms to prospective clients, there always seemed to be a moment of question, but eventually the realization came that I, too, had a God-given gift that could be used to enhance the lives of others.” —Corey Damen Jenkins, Corey Damen Jenkins & Associates
Sheila Bridges—Sheila Bridges Design
Bridges founded her New York–based practice in 1994, where she has since been creative director. Her projects have appeared in the pages of AD, The New York Times, House & Garden, and more. Bridges has produced several furniture collections for retail, and her designs have appeared in cultural institutions including the Studio Museum in Harlem and the Museum of African American History and Culture in Washington, D.C.
It’s been 25 years since I started my own design firm. It’s been an interesting journey. There have been aspects of it that have been amazing, and there continue to be challenges as there would have been, I’m sure, had I chosen any career path.
My parents loved furniture, interiors, and design, and did a good job overall of decorating our family home. They did hire a decorator to do the dining room. She was African American. She helped with draperies, the dining chairs and table, breakfront cabinet, and fabrics that went on our dining chairs. It was pretty limited. That was my first real introduction to interior design, but that’s not something I thought much about going forward.
What did shape my experience going forward: I studied abroad in Italy both when I was at Brown and at Parsons. I did an independent study on patronage in the decorative arts in Florence. Those experiences for me, that level of exposure and experience, helped shape my interest in design and my aesthetic.
Malene Barnett’s Instagram post resonated fully with me. She was speaking her own truth, but it was also the truth for many of us….This is nothing new. It was just the first time someone put it out there using the vehicle of social media.
It’s always been there: The glass ceiling—at least I feel that way for myself. There’s always been a pipeline of work that many of my white colleagues have access to that I don’t. Many of those conversations about potential jobs happen socially at events: a philanthropic event, a cocktail party in Southampton, at a luncheon on Park Avenue. There’s a lot of people who work in the design industry who are people of privilege—whether they have wealth from trust funds or a family inheritance, or married well, perhaps to some big hedge fund owner.
That is not my reality, and I don’t socialize with those people, generally. So those conversations, where a lot of deals are made, are conversations that none of us, or a lot of us, as African American designers, don’t have particular access to. That continues to be challenging.
There are stores and showrooms I just won’t shop in anymore. Sometimes I’m followed around in a store. Or I inquire about something—whether it’s a Louis XVI side chair or some Venetian glass chandelier—only to be told that it is “very expensive” rather than actually being told the price. It’s a way of excluding me by answering a question that way.
I think of the hundreds of thousands of dollars I’ve spent in the D&D Building over the last almost three decades—and I’ve been included in, maybe, one or two panels there. The only panels I’m usually asked to participate in are panels about race and diversity. For most of us, it is a conversation we have to have. But some of us get tired of always having to talk about our race instead of our work. And always putting the responsibility on our shoulders, to do the heavy lifting.
After Malene started the Guild’s digital directory of black designers and makers, I received a message from an editor at a major magazine saying, “Sheila, can you let me know if you know someone there that you think would be great for us to look at?” I was blown away by the laziness! What more do we need to do for you? You’ve got a directory at your fingertips. Use it. It’s not my job to steer people to you if you’re too lazy or don’t care enough to look.
So many young designers have said to me, “I saw you: You were the first African American designer I ever saw in a magazine”…the first African American designer I saw who wrote a book,”…“the first I saw on TV.” The idea that by seeing me, I’ve helped a young person to become inspired and realize that they, too, could become a designer is very meaningful for me.
I’m grateful for the press but—and a lot of black designers know about this—sometimes it’s cringe-worthy for me too. People say, “I know who you are and you’re in every magazine.” It sort of reeks of tokenism, which is why it makes me uncomfortable. Of course I want to be featured, but there are plenty of other people to feature as well. But it’s by design: only opening it up to see a couple of us—two or three of us, a sprinkling—to somehow make people believe that there’s not a problem, when there is actually a problem.
Designers speak: On tokenism and inclusion
“We are trained experts and professionals. We want to be considered for the same design panels and opportunities, as any other qualified designer. Diversity in art and design can’t be just a hot media topic that’s on par with the current political climate, only to vanish after the buzz dies down. Diversity is not just transactional, but it’s also about building genuine relationships with all the players in an industry.” —Keita Turner, Keita Turner Design
“I believe segregated [industry] events exacerbate the problem. I am a professional designer; I don’t need my own separate panel. My voice needs to be a part of the mainstream conversation. Otherwise, it will never be truly valued or respected. I don’t want or require pity, or handouts. What I need is an unlocked door and an honest shot—it’s up to me to throw open the door, run through, and shine! If I fail to do so, the responsibility is mine.” —Courtney McLeod, Right Meets Left Interior Design
“On one hand, the outreach to include designers of color is very low. On the other hand, there’s the danger of ‘tokenism’ and segregating ourselves from the larger design community. That’s not what this movement is about. I would think most of us do not want to be identified as ‘the black designer,’ but rather ‘a designer’—being black is incidental. Clients select designers based on their aesthetics and compatibility, as it should be.” —Iantha Carley, Iantha Carley Interiors
“There are amazingly talented designers of color who are overlooked time and time again because their personal image or design perspective doesn’t match a false standard of what Americans or American homes look like. The design style of the homes in this country is just as diverse as the people themselves.” —Saudah Saleem, Saudah Saleem Interiors
Leyden Lewis — Leyden Lewis Design Studio
Lewis founded his namesake, Brooklyn-based design practice in 2000. Leyden Lewis Design Studio has completed luxury residential projects from Manhattan to Palm Beach, Florida. In addition to his design work, Lewis is also a fine artist.
I was never, ever interested in the traditional interior. I grew up in Brooklyn in a traditional-looking space. I didn’t want to have anything to do with that. I went to Parsons and started my associate degree in interior design. I loved it. I wanted a far more rigorous academic conversation, so I went on to get my BSA in architectural and environmental design.
The only black interior designer I remember seeing back then was Lou Switzer of the Switzer Group. He has one of the most prominent commercial interior design firms. I became aware of other black designers over the coming years, but it was an education. I would learn about designers, then happen to find out they were black.
I really admire Malene Barnett’s gumption, and her clarity around the lack of representation. However, this is a conversation that has [in actuality] been happening for decades. Yes, I was happy Malene made the post, but do we have to be angry in order to be acknowledged? Is the purpose of the black life to constantly be an activist?
All I want to do is design beautiful stuff. Nowadays, it’s an added job I have to do: I’ve got to not only advocate, and market, and do everything else that everybody else has got to do to run a business, but I have to be an activist for that marketing and that business too? That’s a little bit of psychic fatigue.
How can we [black interior designers] be generous to one another, and not take every job out of greed? There has to be some part of the conversation that does a bit of self-examination. There is a scarcity mentality that I think is also intrinsic to this conversation: “If I help this other person succeed, that will mean there’s less for me.” I can almost cry just hearing myself say that….The fact is that, no, you just can’t [think like that].
Designers speak: On feeling like an outsider
“While I’m fully aware of what it feels like to be an outsider, I’ve never had that feeling with interior design. My experience has been incredible so far. By the time they call me, they know I’m African American. My hope is that they don’t care about that, just about the quality of my work.” —Brigette Romanek, Romanek Design Studio
“I have a tough time with this topic [of representation in the profession] for a few reasons. First, I was asked to speak at this particular NYDC [“What’s New, What’s Next” event, mentioned in Malene’s Instagram post] but had to decline because I was out of town. So, I felt bad because the event was essentially attacked for something that wasn’t true. Now, I agree that our representation could be greater in the design community, so I understand why the overall issue was addressed. The second reason I feel conflicted on the topic is because I have a publicist that I pay to get these types of opportunities. I think there is a misconception that brands and magazine contributors randomly reach out to designers because of their great design and merit, when opportunities [actually] can arise because of a relationship that your publicist has with these events and publications.” —Mikel Welch, Mikel Welch Designs
“Segregation is just one of those things we can’t possibly have a la carte. Either you want to bring more light and representation to the design community of color or you don’t. You simply cannot have both.” —Keia McSwain, Kimberly + Cameron Interiors
“Coming from Haiti, issues of race and class weren’t new to me, though I had to learn a different code for navigating them. It never occurred to me to let those issues determine where I go, the people I meet, or the way I do business.” —Maryline Damour, Damour Drake
“I can’t say there is a feeling of deliberate exclusion, but perhaps a feeling of being overlooked. Does it persist? Yes. In this industry as in most, word of mouth, friends and influencers, successful collaborations, and effective public relations are key in raising your profile.” —Lynai Jones, Mitchell Black
Tiffany Brooks — Tiffany Brooks Interiors
Brooks is the founder of Tiffany Brooks Interiors, a residential design firm she’s helmed since 2007 in Chicago. After winning HGTV’s Design Star competition in 2013, Brooks has made several appearances on the network and designed its annual Smart Home in 2016.
My brother is an architect, so I was always around interior design, but I never had any formal training. I absolutely love Ron Woodson; and Mary McDonald and Julia Buckingham were interior designers that I followed very closely. Julia was very close to me, geographically, so I approached her to mentor me. She gave me a list of contacts, including magazine editors and leads for vendors, and a couple of business tips. I talked to her all the way up until I was discovered by HGTV.
I couldn’t afford to go to design school. I had a family, and I was a working mom. For me to quit my corporate job, plus go to design school, would have been a double hit. Instead, I downloaded a course syllabus from Carrington, the interior design school in Chicago, and I bought all the textbooks. I read them and I asked my brother questions. He was a huge resource, but I was very self-taught.
I felt like we black interior designers were a rarity in the industry when I first started. And that automatically made me [consider] other African American interior designers as my direct competition. So instead of celebrating how rare we are, using that as a resource, we find that we have to automatically compete with each other. I had to overcome that.
Shortly after I began my career in interior design, I was discovered by HGTV. At the time, they did not have any African American hosts or African American designers. So I was looking around and I felt it–I am a rare bird.
But I didn’t have to say anything, the viewers actually chimed in with feedback [via] the magazine and the blog. Whenever my name came up or Egypt Sherrod’s [of Property Virgins] name came up, people would comment: “Why don’t these people have a show? HGTV needs more diverse groups of people. They need more diverse hosts.” The readers and the fans did it….The percentage of diverse hosts went from being maybe 5 percent to upwards of 20 to 30 percent. The face of HGTV changed.
A lot more of that has to happen, and is happening. We’re seeing a shift to where you are going to start seeing more students in design school that are African American and those of color. You are going to see more architecture students that are African American. They’re going to graduate and they’re going to be a familiar face in our industry. I feel like we’re at the beginning of something, a movement. We’re getting to an era of inclusion, of the black dollar, and black luxury.
All these major brands know they need to diversify, but they don’t know how to even spearhead it. Do we do it all at once? When do we see these people as normal human beings, with clients, who spend actual, big money? The people who got it right know that there is an issue. Include us, but don’t rely heavily on an all-black panel or something like that. Don’t think that’s going to bring people to the table. But be more inclusive, mix it up a little bit, because that’s exactly what this country should have been based on.
Designers speak: On how to effect change
“The first step is for everyone to look at ourselves, our businesses, our events, and just take a second to notice: Who is here? Who am I surrounding myself with every day? Am I reaching outside of my small personal network? Am I surrounding myself with people who look different from how I look?” —Justina Blakeney, the Jungalow
“We have only ever asked, in any capacity, for you to look at one’s merits and talents, to see beyond your preconceived notions based on race and class. In recent months, in an almost vehement effort by some media and creative industries to disavow the close-minded rhetoric of some of our leaders, the conversation about diversity and inclusion is at a fever pitch. We have since noticed an effort to be more inclusive and to feature designers of color. Action follows awareness.” —Tavia Forbes and Monet Masters, Forbes+Masters
“Change starts at the top. The world is far more diverse than what we currently see reflected in the pages of lifestyle magazines and in ad campaigns. It’s really tough to change biases—that would take too long in my opinion—but having more diversity at the top is a faster route to ensure the end consumer is seeing more diversity.” —Nicole Gibbons, Nicole Gibbons Studio
“Design is global, it’s cultural, it’s the story of all humans; how we live, how we create. There is absolutely no excuse for any publication not to have a variety of cultures represented in an issue, and a variety of thoughts and distinctive backgrounds.” —Jeanine Hays, AphroChic
“I would like [design media] to show the faces of design from around the country by featuring less nationally known designers that are doing exceptional work…. I would also like to see the design industry reach out to their industry partners and encourage them to explore diversity when it comes to product endorsing and licensing. It is most certainly possible, if there is a desire to change.” —Penny Francis, Eclectic Home
“You don’t have to be conscious of a systemic problem to perpetuate it, but you do have to be conscious in order to stop it.” —Bryan Mason, AphroChic
Rayman Boozer — Apartment 48 Interiors
Boozer founded Apartment 48 Interiors in 1994 in New York. What began as a furnishings store in Chelsea blossomed into a full-scale design practice, and the firm’s projects have been featured in Architectural Digest, Vogue, and New York Magazine, among others.
Interior design was not a familiar industry growing up in Alabama and Indiana, but, even so, from the age of 10, I would spend countless hours in my bedroom reading shelter magazines. American Home. Apartment Life. House Beautiful. I loved them all. As I got older, I idolized Albert Hadley and Sister Parrish, both of whom encouraged me to be creative and to follow my passions. At Indiana University, I took Design 101 my freshman year, and with that, I had found my calling.
I’ve lived in New York since college and I quickly discovered that this city is about connections: knowing the right editors, showrooms, and designers vastly improves your chances at succeeding in the industry. Unfortunately, race and background often become an obstacle. Malene founding the Black Artists & Designers Guild is fantastic and overdue, and I think we all should make more of an effort to champion inclusivity in the industry.
Being born in the segregated South, I have experienced blatant racism. That’s not the story I see in the industry today. However, the same systemic problems many people of color face daily are incredibly relevant. Both in the design industry and many other realms of life, I see decisions being made based on social bias, favoritism, and a laziness to explore things that are different. People feel more comfortable with what is familiar to them. Likewise, in our industry, showrooms call on the same faces to represent them every season because those faces delivered last time. Editors publish the same faces in magazines because that last story was such a big hit. And clients ultimately hire those same faces because they want the designers who, presumably, are the best of the best. That seems like a fair-enough strategy, but it showcases a severe lack of creativity and openness to new ideas, and ultimately, creates a barrier to those on the outside looking in.
And race is by no means an isolated factor. There are often hundreds of reasons why someone gets a job or doesn’t get an award or is invited to a speaking engagement or is rejected by a magazine. But the systemic racial issues many of us have endured often create our perception of racism, based on our past traumas.
At this point in my career I’ve been featured in several magazines, most notably, the cover of Elle Decor in 2006. This served as a major turning point in my career, and it occurred because an editor thought a bit differently than others (several periodicals dismissed me immediately). This one opportunity opened a lot of doors for me. Most importantly, it provided the validation that gave me the confidence and connections to expand my business.
Perceptions don’t change overnight, though. Soon after the Elle Decor article was published, I visited a new showroom and the manager made a very vocal point that I could only take out three fabric samples at a time. I instantly felt insulted even as I sensed this wasn’t a hard and fast rule. What client only wants three choices? Later that week, the manager came across the Elle Decor cover and immediately wrote me an apology: “I didn’t know who you were.” It’s fair to wonder whom else the three-sample rule applies to, and whether being on the cover of a magazine really is the only prerequisite for breaking that rule. Since that incident, I do my best to only patronize showrooms that are friendly. I always want high-quality materials and good service, but it’s more important to me to work with people that value mutual respect.
Aspiring to be inclusive means fighting a very persistent cycle; everyone needs to make the effort to explore new ideas, recognize our own shortcomings, and champion new faces. I’m hopeful that efforts like the formation of the BADG will help illuminate exciting new ideas and designs. Twenty years ago, or even 10, I don’t think someone like me would be trusted with multimillion-dollar commercial projects. Things have changed and they will continue to improve. The more the world sees people of color working and succeeding, the more comfortable and normal it will become.
Interviews have been edited for length and clarity
