I wear a necklace every day that holds some of my grandmother’s ashes. It is small and simple, but it means more to me than anything else I own. Whenever I touch it, I feel closer to her, like she is always watching over me. The only time I can’t wear the necklace is when I’m playing sports, so I wrap it around my water bottle and face it toward the court, like she’s still there watching me. When I was freewriting about this necklace, I realized it’s not just jewelry. It’s a reminder of where I come from and the people who helped shape who I am.
Thinking about that made me connect it to The Legend of Auntie Po, which is also about how people hold onto memory and heritage. In the story, Mei uses stories to stay connected to her culture. Even though she lives in a place where she’s treated differently for being Chinese, those stories give her comfort, confidence, and a link to her family’s past. I think that’s important; everyone needs something to help them hold onto their identity. For me, it’s my necklace. For Mei, it’s her stories.
LGBTQ+ communities, stories, and symbols are a way to stay visible and remembered in a world that sometimes tries to ignore them. These texts matter because they highlight the ways people stay connected and strong by holding onto the memories that shape them.
Making this connection between my necklace and Auntie Po made me realize that remembering someone takes effort. Mei keeps her culture alive by sharing her stories, and I keep my grandmother close by wearing her ashes. And by reading books like The Legend of Auntie Po, we help make sure important stories and histories don’t disappear.
I love your story – I also have a necklace that my grandmother gave me of two evil eyes. I don’t have any cultural significane or heritage ties to this object, however I have twisted my own story for necklace to act as a symbol for self-preservation and safety, especially as a queer individual. It reminds me of all my queer family that has come before me and stayed alive to tell their stories, as well as remind me of their loss. I feel like Mei in this scenario because I am crafting my own story.
I totally agree that stories like these are of the utmost importance especially when you need a reminder of where you come from. These aspects of having stories and symbols are even more important when you are surrounded by those who try to invalidate and erase your experiences. I enjoy how you connected your necklace and the comfort it brings you to how Mei uses her stories of Auntie Po to stay connected to her Chinese heritage. Additionally, I think this emphasis on holding onto where you come from mirrors the works by Saeed Jones and how he intertwines his connection to where he came from and his identity.
This is such a lovely sentiment. I totally agree with the idea of remembering as an action and something that takes effort. It reminds me of the discussions we had around Sovereign Erotics and the native stories that have been lost in studies of queer history. It’s a reminder of how acknowledging the absence of these stories is not enough. We actually have to tell them and try to integrate them into our history; that way they can start become part of the main narrative. It also ties back to Gloria Anzaldua and her sentiment about “just getting your shit on paper.” How can we create new narratives if we don’t know what came before?
This is a beautifully personal reflection, and the connection you make between your grandmother’s necklace and The Legend of Auntie Po feels incredibly meaningful. Both become acts of remembering small, everyday ways of carrying the people and histories that shape you. I especially love how you point out that memory isn’t passive, which I totally agree. It’s something we choose to keep alive. Mei tells stories to hold onto her heritage, and you wear your necklace to keep your grandmother close. Your point about LGBTQ+ stories as another form of remembrance deepens the idea even more. This blog post captures how memory becomes identity, strength, and continuity beautifully!