A Place of Our Own challenges the idea that queerness and domesticity are mutually exclusive,
asking what it means to raise a family with both radical visibility + Southern tradition.
What is A Place of Our Own?
A Place of Our Own is a photo series about queer families in the South. It documents the ways we live, love, and build home—through portraiture, storytelling, and the everyday. Each shoot takes place inside the family’s space, with a focus on rituals, aesthetics, care, and chaos. It’s about domestic life without the filter of normativity.
Why?
Because queerness and domesticity aren’t opposites. Because the South is full of queer people making life work in ways that aren’t always visible. Because home can be a site of both safety and protest. This project exists to archive, celebrate, and complicate what it means to be radically queer and deeply rooted.
The Greenbergs
North Charleston, SC | July 2025
Can you be radically queer and also traditionally domestic?
Can you be Southern without the weight of its history defining you?
The Greenbergs embody a paradox I recognize in myself: the pull between tradition and rebellion, between cultural roots and radical queer identity. As a queer Latino man who, may at times, pass as a heterosexual—something that matters in culturally heteronormative spaces around the world—I understand the survival instinct of blending in, of conforming just enough to be safe, while quietly holding onto the truest parts of yourself. In my storytelling, I’m drawn to this tension. I’m not just showing what queer families look like here; I’m asking what they could look like without rules, without repression.
How much of our joy, our style, our very selves, are we still holding back?
This entry in A Place of Our Own captures The Greenberg family, Nicole, Kris, and their daughter Talia, in a home that feels less like a house and more like a portal: part Halloween Town, part queer haven, part glitter-covered refuge, part animal sanctuary. A Dolly Parton Halloween. Spooky, sweet, and radically tender.
This is a queer family in the South, moving through visibility, passing, and pride with both contrast and courage. Their home is a space of emotional safety and playful experimentation, where gender is a spectrum, everyone wears makeup, and brinner (breakfast for dinner) is sacred. It’s a space where Talia, now 8, can grow into herself without judgment, a safe space where the message is clear: You can always come home.
The Greenbergs don’t fit a mold. They’ve built something better, something true to them. Their world is fun, chaotic, intentional, and deeply loving. In a region where queer families often walk a tightrope between safety and erasure, they stand as a glowing, glittery example of what it means to live freely, fully, and without apology. Here, in this home, they are fully seen. This work is not just portraiture. It’s testimony. It’s invitation. It’s a reminder that love, when allowed to be weird and wild and wholly expressed, is its own form of protest. And celebration.
Their front yard is watched over by a towering skeleton named John, a campy, welcoming feature that greets visitors year-round and hints at the playful spookiness within.
Every day is Halloween here.
It even smells of it. Every trinket, every wall hanging, every furry or scaly creature seems to buzz with story and intention. The place was light while dark, soft and specific. Spooky, yes, but also warm. Every corner felt cared for, every choice lovingly made. The weirdness wasn’t hidden; it was celebrated. This was exactly the kind of home I’d hoped to find when I started this series.
Their front yard is watched over by a towering skeleton named John, a campy, welcoming feature that greets visitors year-round and hints at the playful spookiness within.
Nicole, Kris, and Talia moved into their home in North Charleston, SC in February 2023, after feeling priced out of Park Circle, a fast-gentrifying neighborhood once known for its affordability and artsy, eclectic feel. Once Nicole saw the mid-century ranch with the purple door, she just knew. And now, inside, it feels unmistakably them.
And of course, the pets are part of the family story, too: Pretzel the snake. Gretchen Wieners, the sorta-wiener dog. Macaroni, lovingly known as the piss demon, RIP to the chair on the curb.. Elder cats, Rumors and forever-kitten Misty, the outdoor queens. Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers, the sexually frustrated lizards.
Inside, the house reveals itself like a magically dwelt den, dim, layered, and gentle, like stepping into a cozy cave stitched together from oddities, and lived-in magic. The front room is where their love of art, creatures, and all things spooky comes alive: a curated collection of books and trinkets, a soft-lit altar, and a full-on Monster High shrine, coffins included. The living room sinks a step below the rest, a perfect nest for snuggling, game nights, and horror marathons, where the dogs usually claim the best seat and the shadows feel like part of the decor. The kitchen is soft and grounded, a warm heart-of-the-home where their Earth-sign sensibilities shine: heirloom furniture, intentional design, and practical pieces with personal stories, like a converted desk from Nicole’s aunt, now a custom bar. The craft room is, in Nicole’s words, chaotic, but in the best way. It’s a space of constant making and re-making, full of projects in progress, with a pull-out bed always ready for guests.
Every corner of the house holds layered meaning, blending spiritual grounding with a sense of joy, play, and personal mythology. Their home doesn’t just reflect their family’s personality, it is their personality.
Some of their favorite moments together come from shared creativity, crafting, building, storytelling, and from the quiet rituals of family life: movie nights, art projects, baking experiments, thrift store treasure hunts, and just being goofy around the house. There are monthly date nights, bedtime book readings, and a house rule that anyone is always allowed to sing or dance. They regularly put on fashion shows, trying on new thrift finds, pairing them with closet staples, accessorizing, doing makeup, blasting music, and walking the hallway runway. Usually it’s Nicole and Talia strutting while Kris hypes them up. And of course, there’s brinner (breakfast for dinner), which has become a cherished family tradition.
Talia leads the charge with endless ideas, and her parents are always game to follow her spark. When I asked what she’s into, the answer reveals itself in layers: her Cherry Cola Labubu, cats (always cats), crafting vending machines from cardboard, tiny goodie bags, accessorizing everything, Monster High dolls, Rock Band, Minecraft, fashion shows, scary movies, whatever and whenever. She’s wildly creative and hands-on, already dipping into fashion and decor as tools of self-expression.
When it comes to identity, gender, or queerness, those conversations have never been a big, singular moment, they’re just part of the language of their home. Talia understands gender as a spectrum and knows how to respect people’s pronouns and identities. For Nicole and Kris, it’s a glimpse into a future that’s gentler and more free, led by kids like her.
Talia has taught Nicole and Kris as much as they’ve taught her. Through her eyes, they’ve rediscovered the beauty of curiosity, invention, and imagination without limits. She reminds them to slow down, to play more, and to look at the world with softness. Nicole and Kris talked about how she gives them hope, and you feel that. It’s real.
They told me what they hope she’ll always remember is that she can always come home. That line’s stayed with me. It’s not just about the house, it’s about the kind of parenting that builds refuge. This house isn’t just their house. It’s their world. Their mythos. Their scrapbook. A place full of goofy routines, Halloween costumes, hallway fashion shows, spontaneous dance breaks, and of course, brinner. It’s a house where rituals matter, creativity flows, and love shows up in every detail.
Being a queer family in the South means they live with both contrast and courage. Since Kris transitioned before he and Nicole met, they’ve always lived openly and intentionally. But these days, from the outside, they’re often perceived as a “standard” straight family. That comes with safety, sure, but also a strange invisibility. The very communities they belong to can sometimes overlook them. It’s a quiet trade-off: comfort at the cost of visibility.
They’ve both lived in more liberal places, and they carry that perspective into how they move through South Carolina. It’s shaped their resilience and their bond. It’s why their parenting is rooted in emotional safety, creativity, and joy. It’s why their house looks and feels the way it does. And it’s why their presence, both in their neighborhood and in this project, matters so much.
“We’re not the nuclear family. Far from it. We explore gender. We support drag and perform fashion shows regularly. Everyone wears makeup in our house. And we’ve worked hard to build the unit we have. It’s not biological, but it’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.”
And if this shoot ever finds its way into Talia’s future photo album, the message they’d want it to carry is simple: Things are not picture-perfect. But they are fun, chaotic, and ours.
They offer a message to other queer families in the South, especially the ones still figuring it out:
“It’s okay if your family doesn’t look loud or political, or if it does. There’s no one way to be a queer family. Whether you’re blending chosen family, raising kids, navigating small towns, or just figuring things out one day at a time… you belong, and you deserve to exist.
Find your moments of magic. Make art. Celebrate weirdness. Be soft when you can, and fierce when you need to be — your love, your joy, and your story are radical acts in themselves.”
The Greenbergs show us the answer is yes.
You can be radically queer, deeply domestic, unmistakably Southern, and entirely your own.
If this story resonates with you, I’d love to hear yours. A Place of Our Own is an ongoing photo series, and submissions are open for queer families across the South. You can nominate your own household or another family you believe should be part of this project, here.
With care,