In my family’s house back in Hong Kong, there is a spot very sanctified (although my family is not religious). Like many traditional Chinese households, we place the “spirit tablets” and the black-and-white photos of our relatives who have passed away on a household altar. It is representative of our lineage. We worship our ancestors with incense sticks, fruits, and in special festivals, roasted meat, a tradition that originated from Buddhist practice.

The altar in my house.

Growing up, my siblings and I learned to stay away from the altar. However, we could not avoid running into the altar in our apartment in Hong Kong, a city notorious for its tight living spaces. The altar is reddish, wooden and basically a “religiously decorated” cupboard without doors. We placed photos of both paternal grandparents and a paternal great-uncle and spirit tablets on the altar. The blood-red lightbulbs in the wooden altar add even more eeriness to the black-and-white photos. The copper incense holder is placed in front.

My grandparents passed away before I was born. Their photos are the only impressions I have of them. The burning of incense for them is the only interactions I could have with them. We pray for luck, and tell our ancestors about our wrongdoings and our lives while we worship them as if they are gods. Most Chinese do that out of tradition and custom, but not for religious reasons. It is the same in our family. We worship, but we do not embrace the beliefs and stories in Buddhism.

Basically, the altar signifies a passing on of family history. For us, it is not of real religious purpose. However, my parents do not talk much about our family history unless we ask. So we only know about our grandparents’ deaths and their general dispositions. I was only told that my granddad was a very educated and cultivated man, while my grandma was strict.

We do, more or less, think that our ancestors have some kind of power in our lives. For example, we have to apologize when we “disrespect” the altar. My siblings and I used to toss stuffed animals around the apartment when we were young. A lot of times, we knocked the incense holder to the floor, pouring ashes everywhere. Then we were made to recite two lines of rhyming apologies while pressing both palms together in front of the altar, “有怪莫怪，細路仔唔識世界。” I remember being very intimidated by the altar.

Now I have left my country and have abandoned the only interactions with my ancestors. My family members continue the custom in Hong Kong. Perhaps, if my family later chooses to settle in the States with me, they might bring the spirit tablets here, which would signify that we would establish our roots here. Since the tablets represent our lineage, moving them here would be testimony to our recognition of our immigrating to America and to shifting of our identity, as true Americans.