Rethinking Memory and Value: Beyond “Do You Still Remember Me?”

I recently listened to a poignant interview on This American Life titled “The Question Trap” (Episode 823, Act Three, available at this link), where Janelle Taylor discusses how the recurring question, “Does she recognize you?”—often asked by people when a loved one’s memory is fading—misses the point entirely. In her insightful analysis, Taylor, who originally wrote about her mother in an academic paper for Medical Anthropology Quarterly, argues that instead of fixating on whether someone can recall every detail of our past, we should be asking what intrinsic value we offer, regardless of memory or neurotypical expectations. This perspective challenges us to recognize the inherent worth each person brings to the world, even when traditional measures of memory or ability fall short.

This question resonated deeply with me, especially as I reflected on my own journey. In a world where people are frequently defined by cognitive ability, neurotypical standards, or even the capacity to remember, I’ve come to understand that intrinsic value is far more than just memory—it’s about the love, support, and meaning we contribute to the lives of those around us.

For me, that lesson came through my son, who is nonverbal and autistic. He has taught me more about love than I ever thought possible. In a way, his pure, unfiltered love has been my greatest teacher. It was his presence and unwavering affection that gave me the strength to leave an abusive marriage—a choice that saved my life. I say this not to suggest that a child's love should replace a partner's, but rather to emphasize that the value of love and self-worth transcends conventional expectations and can be awakened in person from unconventional sources.

Before my son came into my life, I struggled to grasp the true essence of love. I often sought validation and connection in all the wrong places, being an academic, through work or grades or in truth from people that could never love me because of their own limitations. But through my son's silent, yet powerful way of loving me, I learned that the most important love is the one we give ourselves. When we measure our worth by our ability to be remembered or recognized by others, we miss the opportunity to understand our inherent value.

The Courage to be Disliked taught me that our worth isn’t determined by external factors or the recollections of others, but by the intrinsic value we bring to the world. Whether or not someone’s memory of us fades, the impact we have on those we love—especially in moments of profound connection—remains eternal.

Today, I urge you to rethink the question “Does she recognize you?” and instead consider, “What value have you brought into someone’s life?” For families like mine, and for every person who might be labeled as “different” or “disabled,” our true worth isn’t defined by societal norms or the ability to recall every detail of our past or the ability to speak. It’s defined by the love we share, the lessons we learn, and the courage we display every day.

My son is living proof that love transcends conventional measures of memory or ability. His strength, humor, and unconditional love remind me daily that our intrinsic value lies in the connections we nurture, the lives we touch, and the courage we muster to live authentically. Let us celebrate the beauty of every individual—remembering that even in a world obsessed with “remembering” and "achievement" the true measure of our worth is the love and value we create in each moment as we dance through our lives.

Asher & I on Valentine's Day 2025

Feel free to share your thoughts and experiences in the comments. How do you measure intrinsic value in your own life?