I’ve always been proud of being Black. I’ve never felt shame because I’m a descendant of slaves. Watching slaves in movies doesn’t embarrass me. On the contrary, I’ve always marveled at how my ancestors were ripped away from their homeland, brought to another country with a different climate, where people not only looked different but spoke an entirely different language, ate different foods, worshipped differently and not only survived but thrived.
No, we’re definitely not where we should be, seeing how this country was built on the backs of slaves, but we’re a resilient people with an amazing strength and ability to survive.
So, yeah, I’m proud to be a descendent of slaves. However, I’ve always been bothered by the lack of actually knowing who my ancestors are. What part of Africa my family is from. I’ve always been a little jealous of people who can trace their lineage back to the mother country. I know I’m from the Motherland, but that doesn’t really say much considering how vast the continent of Africa is. My family can’t pass down stories from before our ancestors arrived here. Heck, my stories don’t even go beyond my great grandparents.
I’ve always longed for that “Roots” or “Queen” treatment for my family history, so when a friend posted her DNA results on Facebook and told me about a sale on the kits, I jumped at the opportunity. I was excited to finally find out who I am — in a DNA sense. I know I’m a descendent of slaves and obviously there’s some white somewhere in my bloodline, but what else is there? My mother’s father was half Native American — Cherokee — to be exact, or at least that’s the story we were told. So, I’ve always had a fondness for Native American culture. But what if my life turned out like that commercial where the guy’s entire family thinks they’re German, performed in a German dance group and ate German foods only to learn through DNA he’s Scottish and Irish? A very real possibility considering many African-Americans incorrectly believe they have Native American blood, specifically, Cherokee. It’s been proven that Blacks and Native Americans didn’t create interracial families as much as believed. So when I got my daughter’s DNA results first, and it showed three percent Native American DNA, I felt some relief that my family wasn’t living a lie. My results came back with five percent Native American DNA. Again, relief. I felt relief because my family wasn’t claiming Native American heritage as a way to not claim our Blackness. We claimed it because it’s true. My grandfather died when my mom was a girl so all anyone knows is what he told them. And grandpa wasn’t lying! Whew!
I also felt an amazing sense of pride and wonderment when I looked at my DNA results. I actually know where my bloodline originated. The majority of my DNA, 28 percent, comes from the Ivory Coast/Ghana. The next largest percentage, 17 percent, comes from Cameroon/Congo. Now, I wasn’t prepared for the third largest number, 11 percent, to come from Great Britain! Maybe that’s why I like “Luther,” “Downton Abbey,” The Crown and The Tudors so much! (Besides a high percentage of Nigerian ancestry, my friend learned she has a high percentage of Italian ancestry!) I’m even seven percent Scandinavian! As I said earlier, I know my bloodline isn’t all from the Motherland. However, I didn’t expect to learn that a full 30 percent is non-African. The results show there’s a less than one percent chance I could have European Jewish DNA. Now, I never would’ve ever thought that in a million years.
While learning my DNA hasn’t changed my views on being Black — I’m still proud and that’s how I identify — it has given me a sense of knowing where I belong in this world. I do have roots that started well before my ancestors touched land in this country. And now when I finally travel to the Motherland, I know where to go first.
