Your home should feel like somebody lives there.
Not a showroom. Not a copy of somebody else’s Pinterest board. A real home with memory, personality, laughter, faith, texture, and signs of the people who belong there.
Not a business plan. Not a trend forecast. Not some grand idea to “disrupt” home décor. Just a woman looking around her own home and realizing the little details didn’t feel like her.
I was a single mama of two living in a beige rental, doing what so many women do: working, raising babies, handling what needed to be handled, and trying to make a home inside of a space that technically belonged to somebody else.
The apartment was fine. That was part of the problem. It was fine. The walls were neutral. The fixtures were ordinary. Nothing was technically wrong, but very little about it felt personal. I could clean it, decorate it, rearrange it, light a candle and fluff a pillow—and still feel like something was missing.
I wanted to walk through my front door and feel some recognition. I wanted color. Texture. Culture. Personality. Evidence that a real family lived there. Evidence that we lived there.
But I wasn’t trying to renovate a rental, and I definitely wasn’t sitting on some unlimited decorating budget. I needed small changes that could carry real weight.
That is when I started paying attention to the things everybody else ignores.
One of those things was the light switch cover.
Plain white. Functional. Forgettable. The kind of thing you pass a hundred times without actually seeing it. And one day I thought: Why does this have to be invisible? Why can’t this little piece of the wall have a point of view too?
So I started experimenting. Fabric. Buttons. Color. Texture. Whatever made the piece feel alive. My children watched me work. I made something, put it on the wall, stepped back—and smiled.
It was small. That was exactly why it mattered.
I had not changed the flooring. I had not painted the whole apartment. I had not bought a room full of new furniture. I had changed one overlooked detail, and suddenly the wall felt more intentional. More personal. More mine.
Then people started noticing.
Friends would come over and stop at the switch plate. They wanted to know where it came from. They wanted one. Then another. And somewhere between making them for myself and making them for people I loved, I realized I had found something bigger than a cute decorating idea.
I had found an answer to a feeling I knew other people carried too: “I want my home to look like somebody lives here on purpose.”
That became Kustom Kreationz by Kila.
Over time, the meaning of home got deeper for me. I stopped seeing home as just the place where we keep our things and started thinking more seriously about what we are building inside those walls.
What do people feel when they come in? What do our children learn here? What do we repeat here? What do we protect here? What gets our attention? What kind of peace are we cultivating? What does this house quietly say about what matters to us?
That is where faith became inseparable from the brand for me. Not as decoration. Not as a slogan pasted onto a product. As a foundation.
I believe a home can be beautiful and still have substance. It can be expressive and still have peace. It can celebrate culture, hold family history, make room for joy, and point back to God.
“As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” — Joshua 24:15
Not a showroom. Not a copy of somebody else’s Pinterest board. A real home with memory, personality, laughter, faith, texture, and signs of the people who belong there.
Heritage, color, pattern, Black creativity, and family history belong in beautiful spaces without being watered down, explained away, or treated like a temporary trend.
A switch cover will not change your life. I am not going to pretend it will. But a thoughtful detail can change how a corner feels—and sometimes that is exactly where making home begins.
For me, a faith-rooted home is not about filling every wall with a verse. It is about what the people inside those walls practice: love, stewardship, truth, hospitality, gratitude, and obedience.
KKBK did not grow out of a desire to make more stuff. It grew out of wanting to make ordinary spaces feel more personal.
Every cover begins with a functional wall plate and becomes something more through careful material choices, hand application, placement, finishing, and a lot of attention to the little things.
Because handmade should look like somebody cared.
Prints and textiles are carefully applied and finished so the pattern feels intentional on the plate.
Rhinestones are placed by hand to create sparkle with control—not chaos unless the design calls for it.
Buttons are selected and arranged into layered compositions that make each finished piece feel collected.
Fabric, buttons, rhinestones, and other materials can meet in one piece when the design needs more personality.
KKBK is a Black woman-owned small business based in Savannah, Georgia. When you order here, there is a real person on the other side of it.
I am the one thinking through the design, working with the materials, answering questions, fixing what needs fixing, celebrating the good reviews, learning from the hard moments, and figuring out how to keep growing without losing the heart of what made this special in the first place.
I do not take that lightly.
Not sure what size you need? Wondering whether a design will work in your space? Need something custom? Send me the details. You can contact me here.
I would rather know and have the opportunity to help than have you quietly disappointed. You can also review the current return policy here.
Start with one overlooked detail. Find the piece that makes you stop, smile, and say, “Yep. That belongs in my house.”