somewhere to sit
field notes 001 / notes on the urban food brood
“What is that place?”
It’s usually the first question I get when entering my ride-share after a trip to the Urban Food Brood.
Where do I start?
It’s a place with experimental drinks and espresso martinis. A place for French toast and farm-to-table meat. A place for tattoos and tarot. For plant-based soap and handmade jewelry. For books and brunch and finding your favorite sweater.
It’s a place for witches and weirdos and freaks and geeks and your mom and your dog and your kid.
For people who care about the details. For people who care about showing up. For people who want to try something new. And for people who come back each week because it already feels familiar.
For the last few months, it’s been a place that’s inspired me to recreate and reconnect.
Some foods feed you and some rooms feed your soul.
Friday mornings are quiet moments, a small permission to pause with a drink and pastry before work. A moment to collect myself under the warm buzz of the fluorescent with a book.
Over time, showing up at the Urban Food Brood every weekend and beginning to attend events reminded me what it feels like to show up for your community in general.
Pushing myself through reminders that I am allowed to take up space. Because in a society that is quick to other and outcast, some of us need that reminder.
You are allowed to show up.
You are allowed to take up space.
It is easy to get lost in your own world but those small moments of connection gave me the reassurance I needed to keep pushing myself. Whether it was a smile or someone remembering my name.
As the months passed, the food, the color, the music, the quiet moments before chaos, and the simple acts of kindness began to feed something deeper.
“I could do an interview here.”
“I wish I had my camera.”
“We should make a documentary.”
And I simply couldn’t ignore what it was waking back up.
I feel connected not only to the community but the idea of physical space and how vital it is for people to have space.
Somewhere to hang your art, yes. But more simply, somewhere to sit.
A seat for someone on their feet all day, working two jobs, with a kid waiting at home.
A bench for someone with nowhere else to rest.
How do we make space for those who are simply existing and do not have anything to offer in return? How do we honor those who create space and hold space for us?
I don’t think there is one perfect answer. But I know these spaces matter. The rooms, the chairs, the people who keep showing up. The places that let us sit down long enough to remember we belong somewhere.
