growing up in orange county, california after my parents’ boat refugee journey leaving viêt nam in 1986, there was one of only a few things that were constant in a constant world of flux - my mom’s family altar honoring our ancestors.  oftentimes she would repurpose the built-in fireplaces of our house to make the altar, which were part religious (i grew up catholic so imagine crosses, rosaries, holy water and prayers printed out in việt) and part cultural - adorned with pictures of those in our family who had passed, electric candles, and rotating fresh flowers, a plate of fruit, and the most recent food dishes that my mom had made.  for major celebrations like tết lunar new year around january/february of the gregorian year, the altar would get special treatment - the freshest stone fruit or nut tree flower blossoms, red envelope wish trinkets to bring wellness for the year, and special foods like bánh tét sweet rice cakes and thịt kho braised pork and hard-boiled eggs in coconut juice with pickled mustard greens.  this home altar was similar to the ones at my việt friends’ homes and at various temples, nail salons, and restaurants in the việt community.  whether it’s the food, flowers, and/or burning incense, more likely than not you’d know you had entered a viêt space.

the thing is, though, i didn’t care much for this altar, too” busy” as a young person surviving capitalist suburbia as a child of refugees post-american war in viêt nam.  i didn’t care, partly because i felt forced into religion, partly because i struggled culturally as a việt diasporic, and partly because of my oftentimes rocky and tenuous relationship with my mom around life expectations and my queerness.  my mom kept at it, though, tending to this altar that was both a cultural ancestral memorial and a focal point for catholic prayer every night before bed.

fast forward to my twenties, i found my own paths and home in radical and transformative việt, queer, and eco/food/farming movement spaces.  so much of my journey towards unlearning, decolonizing, and liberation was and still is rooted in practicing ancestral and cultural lifeways.  the deeper i explored my việtness, my queerness, and my radicalness, the more whole and free i felt.  

in 2016, a group of us queer, trans, and gender-expansive việt-identified folx of the diaspora whose families had settled and been making home on Chochenyo, Ramaytush, and Tamien areas of native Ohlone land (or known as san francisco bay, east bay, and south Bay) started finding one another, coming together, and consoling with one another.  we wanted to begin healing the wounds of intergenerational trauma of the u.s. war in việt nam and dismantle the discrimination we faced as queer folx in our own community.

much like our việt queer lineage and transcestors, we’d make art - sing, dance, play music, and celebrate our fullest, brightest, and most brilliant qtviệt artistic selves in regular showcases, doing our queer-friendly version of paris by night, a việt diasporic entertainment and variety show and cultural phenomenon that many of us and our families grew up with.  we’d host annual tết lunar new year intergenerational meals filled with live music, performances, and panels of younger qtviệts and elders/parents of qtviệt children talking about acceptance, love, and generational healing.  we’d experiment with cookhubs for these meals in which our parents would teach us how to make traditional dishes, and in turn, we’d learn about one another on a more authentic and humanistic scale with the hopes of dismantling stereotypes and fear and fostering inclusion, deep connection, and community.  in the fall, usually september/october, we’d host parties to make bánh trung thu (mooncakes) using traditional ingredients and techniques but also queering it up and trying new things like making fruit-nut-seed pastes and doughs with local ingredients and processing việt mung beans for the filling grown in the diaspora. we’d make foods and vend for fun QTBIPOC (Queer Trans Black Indigenous People of Color) dance parties, tinkering with new flavors and techniques, playing with new qtviệt food culture along the way.

this would be what is now the QTViệt Cafe Collective - a creative cultural hub dedicated to Queer and Trans Việt (QTViệt) liberation through ancestral practices, the arts, and intergenerational connection - an evolving and growing group celebrating it’s 6th anniversary this august.

at each of these gatherings, i’d be asked to and/or feel personally called to help co-create an altar.  it felt like a responsibility - not to “represent” or “show” my việtness - but rather a portal to deeply connect to my ancestors and the things i felt like i’ve generationally lost and didn’t yet know about.  these altars felt like a channel to sync what once was with what is with the hopes of trying to find answers to who i am and who i can be.  i’d help try and make sure there were fresh flowers, rice, incense, and foods/drinks.  i’d print out photos of passed loved ones, and it was just recently that i’d pair my blood family ancestors with việt queer ancestors and transcestors.  i become somewhat obsessively passionate about it -  waves of bliss,  humility, and cultural healing would come over me every time.  we’d invite community to share and add photos and symbols of significance to these altars to honor folx’s lineage of then and now.  and before the start of each event, we’d try to gather together to cúng - burn incense and honor our ancestors - inviting them in, letting them know we were thinking of them and where we were was a safe sanctuary space, and thanking them for their support and love.

and suddenly in this phase of my life, something that i didn’t care for at all, i cared for with my entire being.

my parents didn’t come to our intergenerational meals and gatherings - it was hard for them to accept who i was and was becoming.  though after my mom passed in august 2018, i asked my dad if he wanted to attend the following tết lunar new year gathering and to bring a picture of mom for the altar.  it was anticipated to be the largest-attending meal to date - over 200 people.  my dad was widowed, and i wanted to get to know him more.  i wanted to deeply honor my mom.  i wanted my parents to see who i was and the beautiful qtviệt community i had been building with.  

my dad accepted my invitation and not only brought a picture of my mom, but to my surprise, met my qtviệt friends and their parents and families, stayed the entire program, and even donated money to our collective (!)  we made and shared bánh tét sticky rice cakes, lotus root salad, braised bamboo stew, pickled mustard greens, stuffed bittermelon and winter melon soups, gấc sticky rice, fermented rice balls, sweet rice and black-eyed pea coconut pudding, dried fruit, candied citrus peels, and more.

it was a full circle evolved moment for me - doing something my mom had done to continue a lineage of justice and freedom fighting lovers and healers.  then and now, while i made and make altars in my own way, i love carrying on something so dear to my mom that connects me to her and all of my blood and chosen ancestors.  every time i do it, it helps make my life more worth living.  the practice helps me heal, survive, and get closer to thriving.

rest in peace, power, and pleasure to my mom - Lê Thị Ngọc Huyền - and all the late moms, femmes, caretakers, nurturers, and queer ancestors/transcestors.

i’d love to share two anecdotes - two “recipes” if you will - in my altar-making practice.

1) the first is a set of guiding questions i’ve asked and ask myself in creating altars.  as a queer, eco-femme, gender-expansive việt, i believe there is no one “way” for how to create an altar.  i gather inspiration from where my family's from and think for myself what’s true in my life.  rather than needing particular material things to make an altar look like a certain way, i have guiding questions that i hope can help:

• how do i identify culturally and spiritually, and are there already cultural and spiritual practices that honor our passed loved ones that i’d like to continue on and/or evolve for myself?

• who are the ancestors in my family and in my community that i’d like to deeply honor?  who am i calling in and why?  how do i want honor their lives?

• what am i choosing to remember and celebrate in creating this sanctuary space?

• what special foods and drinks remind you of your honoring ancestors?  why?

• what about your ancestors would you like to share appreciations about?  what are you grateful for about your ancestors?  why?

2) in memory of my mom, the 2nd anecdote is a recipe, one of my mom’s favorites - chè chuối - banana with tapioca and coconut sauce.  

it’s on the sweeter side of the taste spectrum, sometimes eaten as a dessert to cleanse the palate after a savory meal.  though to be honest, it can be eaten any part of the day - in the morning, afternoon, night, or late night :) chè is a general term to describe a sweetened pudding of some sort - there are so many types that include beans, legumes, seeds, sea plants, coconut milk, jellies, and more.  my family’s homeland is in southern viêt nam along the mekong delta.  much of delta is known for producing really delicious fruit - the land, soil, and environment is well suited for amazing seasonal tropical fruits.  thus, this recipe centers the banana and coconut.  i learned how to make this dish from watching my mom and something i bring to my altars in memory of her.  as a diasporic, i like to experiment and have definitely tried swapping out the bananas for other local fruits, including cooked berries and stone fruit.  have fun :)

this recipe is for about four servings. in my culture, we measure by taste, not really by amounts and quantities.  this is my approximations - try it and change as you’d like!

the ingredients are:

• bananas, ripe & peeled, about a cup and a half (please see note above for trying a diasporic nod to other fruits)

• coconut milk, about two cups

• salt, a pinch

• sweetener, about ½ cup.  i tend to use palm sugar or honey.  for those mindful of your sugar intake, consider lessening the amount or omitting.

• tapioca balls, small and dried, about two tablespoons

• optional:

• sesame seeds, toasted (optional)

• peanuts, roasted (optional)

in a pot on high heat, stir in the coconut milk, sweetener, salt, and tapioca balls.  stir the pot evenly so that the tapioca balls don’t stick to one another and the ingredients are evenly distributed.

when it boils, turn off the heat, cover it with a lid, and put it on the side for about 20 minutes.  it’ll continue to cook.

peel and cut the bananas.  ripe bananas have brown/dark spots on the skin.

add the cut bananas into the pot and bring the pot to cook for about 5 minutes.

turn off the heat, transfer to serving bowls, and garnish with toasted sesame seeds and peanuts if you’d like.  add some to the altar for your ancestors to try and enjoy!