Much of my jewellery has been gifted to me, and so each piece tells not just my story, but the story of those who made me the person I am today. This expresses something about me: I’m comfortable being nothing but the sum of my parts, the different influences I’ve grown up around. However, I know many people who prefer to buy their own jewellery. That way, they choose what part of them is being shown, not someone else.

“My rosary was a burning reminder that my own culture was ashamed of me, hated me”

Growing up Catholic, I received lots of wearable religious paraphernalia. But also growing up queer, I never wore them. They were put away in their own separate jewellery box, left in a carton of toys and memories from my childhood which I rarely touched. My rosary was a burning reminder that my own culture was ashamed of me, hated me. In turn I began to hate it too; I began to feel shame whenever I looked towards it.

I only took out that jewellery box in my later teens. I remembered how pretty I used to think it was. I remembered my first communion, and how I was the only person in my class whose whole family had come for the ceremony, even though they lived in Poland. My mother gave me the beautiful blue rosary that I always looked at in the shop by the church.

“These rosaries and crosses which I wear are only imbued with so much meaning because they were carefully picked out by loved ones”

When I put the rosary on, and looked in the mirror, I was surprised to see that it looked as if it belonged with my goth makeup and black dress. Somewhere along the way, I had grown into someone who loved my rosary again. Maybe my rosary had evolved to be more open-minded alongside my parents. Maybe it was me who finally saw that my culture can be flawed and beautiful at once. These rosaries and crosses which I wear are only imbued with so much meaning because they were carefully picked out by loved ones. My spiritual leaning nowadays is more crystals than guardian angels, but my colour preferences are the same. Recently, my mother gifted me another necklace, silver with a moonstone pendant. She said this necklace would protect me, and that I can charge its energy by the full moon. Though she doesn’t believe in these ideas, she dips her toes in it and asks for tarot readings at New Year. I wear the pendant most days – it goes perfectly with my blue cross necklace.

There’s something special about jewellery gifted particularly by grandparents. In Indian culture, jewellery is incredibly significant, passed down through generations and very rarely sold or given away. My partner wears a golden Sai Baba under their shirt. It contrasts starkly with my silver-blue cross, yet they echo each other. When their grandmother died, all the girls got some of her jewellery. When their grandfather died a year later, it seemed only fitting they should get the pendant he wore every day. Now they wear it as he did, a small reminder of who he was, what he believed, and how he made them who they are today. My friend’s future engagement ring was found by chance in the bathroom while shopping with her grandmother. Her grandmother told her to keep it as an engagement ring, and my friend took that to heart and has it to this day.

“While many accessory codes have been mostly retired, accessories have historically had an importance for signalling to likeminded people”

Someone I gravitated to immediately at Cambridge is my friend who has a million piercings, rings on every finger, and usually a necklace or two for good measure. Their style drew me towards them. They later told me that it’s intentional – they want to signal that they’re a safe person for others like them: “My piercings allow me to filter out those who are safe while still giving me plausible deniability.” Unfortunately, this can be especially true in certain black spaces where the colonial ideals forced onto us have not been dissected and instead internalised. Another friend wears a ring on her pinkie finger, ring-code for being single and looking. While many accessory codes have been mostly retired, accessories have historically had an importance for signalling to likeminded people.

Their jewellery isn’t just empty signalling, though. The designs they pick are personal. Swords and animal designs reflect their love of fencing, swordplay and zoology. Notably, there is a distinct lack of crosses. Instead they wear occult symbols, describing it as a rejection of the Christianisation of their culture.

The people I know all have different approaches to jewellery. Yet, I find we have similar feelings towards it. We feel that jewellery is deeply connected to us and expresses our identity to those around us. Jewellery is more than just an accessory; it is a wearable collage that tells our story at a glance.