y neck is guarded by a gold chain that carries the stories of all those who came before me. It has not left its place since my mother first clasped the chain around my neck at nine years old. Since then, I reach for the necklace instinctively at every burst of emotion I feel. When I am happy, I clutch the pendant as I jump up and down in joy; when I am nervous, I fiddle with the chain in between my fingers; when I am scared, I rub the clasp against the back of my neck. Over time, the necklace has become a part of me—a form of portable comfort I can bring everywhere. However, this comfort does not come from the physical object itself, rather the knowledge that I am another carrier of a long-standing history.
M
Gold has always been used to preserve history across generations [1]. Some necklaces even hang in museums as medals or relics of powerful empires. While my necklace cannot be found secured and guarded behind a glamorous trophy case, its story carries the same importance. In my family, gold is passed down from mother to daughter as a reminder of the strength and resilience running through my blood. The necklace I wear around my neck is a reminder that the women before me have survived so that I can get to this point. When my mother first revealed the necklace, I was too young to realize why a single piece of jewellery needed to be paired with such a long-winded family history. Ten years later, I realize that inheriting this necklace means inheriting the legacy of all those before me, in hopes of building onto it to pass down to the coming generations. 14 | THE MUSLIM VOICE | NOVEMBER 2023
