Birthdays in the afterlife
Making rituals and living hard
Every year on 24 November, I give myself the day off (obviously a bit easier now as a freelancer). It’s my brother Jonny’s birthday — this year, he turns 44.
I always try to write about him in the present tense. Talking with my friend Amber ahead of the day, she noticed this. Perhaps it’s a way of speaking that those who are constantly grieving the loss of a loved one are attuned to. “I am looking forward to spending time with him at the cemetery,” I wrote to her on WhatsApp.
My parents and I each mark the day in our own separate ways, before coming together to have birthday cake in the evening (usually a Colin the Caterpillar). This year, I decided to do something different with my day, prompted by a zine I bought at Small Tune Press’ stall at Miss Read book fair in Berlin, made by Hong Kong-based design duo Pop and Zebra.
When our loved ones die, my maternal family burns joss paper offerings for them — a traditional Chinese custom, and there are other similar rituals across the East and South East Asia region. The idea is that we burn these items to make our loved ones a little more comfortable in the next realm, sending them off with something beloved from this life.
I remember when my gung gung died, we burnt a photo of his Datsun Cherry car — of course he couldn’t be without his favourite (and possibly not really road-safe) mode of transportation, how would he get around? Growing up, I remember the permanent red glow of battery-powered candles on our shrine in our family home in Sungai Petani, always well stocked with oranges for the ancestors. My mum has told me she’s seen others literally make the objects for their loved ones out of paper; little fragments of origami destined to go up in flames.
This year, I decided to take the zine to Jonny’s grave and create this new ritual. I often find that I chat to him while I’m at his grave now, filling him in on the latest happenings and hot (or at least mildly warm) gossip.
I don’t feel like it’s a one-sided conversation. Every time for the last few times now, the sun has improbably emerged from behind clouds while I’m there, or I’ve spotted the famous green parakeets of south east London flitting around. I like to think that they’re my cheeky uncles checking in, not wanting to miss out.
I flicked through the zine, picking out the essentials: birthday cake, tea and biscuits, crayons and an exercise book, a camera, videos and more. And then one by one, I lit them, feeling a sense of lightness as their edges curled and ashes floated down.
It feels like this time of year is birthday season, alongside the impending festive period. I think birthdays are something to look forward to and to cherish. What a joy it is to turn another year older, and what a precious thing too. I’m thinking a lot about a recent conversation
and I had, in which we chatted on Hong Kong’s waterfront about “living hard”.There is so much to despair about right now. And of course, despair is a valid feeling and process. But more and more, even with all the upheaval and ruptures that have happened this year, I feel an impetus to live hard, to do the things Jonny is unable to do, but that I know he is willing me to.
And so, after sending these gifts off to him, I went with his slightly battered ice skates to Streatham Ice Rink for an afternoon skating session. It felt freeing to be at the rink, present in the moment, insulated from the outside world for a couple of hours, retracing the indents Jonny’s blades would have made in the sheet of ice 23 years ago now. Before I knew it, the afternoon had passed, and it was time for birthday cake.
Happy Birthday bro — I hope you are feeling celebrated, well-fed and entertained.
Three Leaves
Beautiful and moving scenes again this week at the National March for Palestine, with many families, people carrying olive branches, and sausage dogs adorned in Palestinian flag colours. I particularly enjoyed this sign in the autumn sunlight:
There is a lot of great writing out there on experiences of being single at the moment. I enjoyed this piece featuring women in different decades of life on what being single means to them. I also really resonated with
’s reflections on the piece and the sometimes confusing feelings being single can raise here.And relatedly, Linda Evangelista gave an interview this week on her dating life, from which People picked the best line to complete this iconic headline quartet:
And updates from me
I interviewed the delightful D. Smith about her award-winning documentary, Kokomo City, for Documentary magazine. The film is stylistically stunning, focusing on the experiences of Black trans women “who happened to be sex workers”, as Smith says. I loved Smith’s explanation of the way she framed the women in their bedrooms and with their lovers: “Trans women absolutely have the audacity to be loved.” You can read our conversation on Documentary here. A special thank you to GS for seeing the film with me at the BFI earlier in the year — and for everything, really.
For the last two months, I’ve been working with the Voice of Domestic Workers and Sounddelivery Media for the last few months on the Future Voices programme, which equips migrant domestic workers with the skills and confidence to advocate for their rights and share their stories. On Sunday, we had our penultimate workshop on media training and interview practice. I could not be more proud to be part of this project — one of the most fulfilling I’ve worked on in my career to date. Find out more about the programme here.
Thank you for reading Ginkgo Leaves, and I’ll be back in your inbox in two Tuesdays’ time.
Take care,
Suyin x