In Queer Phenomenology, Sara Ahmed writes, “The work of inhabiting space involves a dynamic negotiation between what is familiar and unfamiliar, such that it is still possible for the world to create new impressions, depending on which way we turn, which affects what is within reach.” Ahmed’s influential text on orientation and phenomenology in relation to queer sexuality offers a generative theoretical framework for thinking through issues of how we inhabit space as sexualized, racialized, and otherwise embodied subjects. Indeed, as we transition out of the defamiliarized virtual conditions necessitated by the COVID-19 pandemic, we live in an increasingly hybrid world where we exist both as physical and digital presences, further complicating the matter of inhabitance, of navigating what is or is not familiar. Marxist philosopher Henri Lefebvre similarly reminds us that “representations of space [...] have a substantial role and a specific influence in the production of space,” suggesting that our own habits—literary or otherwise—produce and are produced by the spaces we inhabit.

The verb “inhabit” might invite us to reflect on how we exist both as individuals and in relation to others. What, for example, does it mean to inhabit an identity or a particular kind of body? How doesone inhabit a nation as an immigrant? What are the ethical responsibilities of inhabiting another’s land as a settler, or how does one reconcile with having one’s land forcefully inhabited by others? Split into its prefix and root, to be “in habit” opens other avenues of inquiry. As a noun, “habit” might refer to a garment, behaviour, or routine. How and why do we wear specific habits, both in the “real world” and on the stage? How are habits as behaviours and routines informed by concepts such as identity, psychology, and culture?