Race, Ethnicity and Other Bugaboos

I have been silent about racism. There has been so much chatter about it, I didn't want to litter the web with more. And this blog is supposed to be more about ancestry than social issues. But I did name the sub-title of my blog "Genealogy in Black and White" for a reason. So. . .

I believe the conversation about racism should begin with the fact that "race" is a myth. Race is a social concept not a biological one. I was not upset that Rachel Dolezal, the Spokane president of the NAACP, identified herself as black. Neither am I upset that Jennifer Beals identifies herself as white. We are different colors and hues. We have different types of noses and mouths and hair. All those things can be altered artificially. And we all belong to different cultural and sub-cultural groups.We can adopt different practices and habits, interchange them. They are not set in stone. So I wish the conversation could begin as "we are all the same and all different,"

As far as ethnicity goes, maybe we're so into hyphens in this country because we're so mixed up. Everyone comes from somewhere else except for the native Americans.  My own DNA test results said my heritage was mostly African, but nearly one third was made up of European. There was also traces of Asian and Amerindian. I chose not to identify myself as African-American even before I got those results. First, I don't like hyphens anyway. I am American by birth. Period. And even though I claim I'm Black, I'm really more of a caramel color.

Anyone from Africa, regardless of their color or hue, who becomes a citizen here could use the designation of African-American. Very few people call themselves European-American. They identify a country instead of a continent. Because of my slavery heritage, I don't know which African country to declare, although 26% of my DNA, the highest percentage, is from a Nigerian ancestor. But then 19% of my DNA, the second highest percentage, came from an Irishman.

I believe when we get around to talking, after beginning with "we are all the same." we should next say  there is no difference that makes one a "real" American or "true" American more than another person. Born, raised or immigrated, we the People are ALL Americans.

It's Not Easy Being Green

When I was in school, it was the custom to pinch anyone not wearing green on St. Patrick's Day. It had nothing to do with being Irish. I attended a Black segregated public school. However, I would proudly tell my fellow classmates that I really was Irish. This was the oral legend of my family.

Now with the aid of science and DNA testing, I have proof of my Irish heritage. According to ancestry.com, I am a whopping 19% Irish. I still don't know how, when or where, but I am definitely descended from several persons from Ireland. And my Irish ancestors reside behind my brick wall.

I know most of my Black ancestors back to 1825. I only know one White ancestral line up to that date. That is my Featherston line. There may be Irish roots there. The Featherstons did come from England so there may be Irish ties somewhere in that family tree.

What is unique about my Featherston ties is that the interracial union of my great grandparents occurred right after slavery. Those other earlier couplings were, more than likely, forced and they definitely were not documented.

Irish immigrants didn't have it easy when they first arrived here in America. People looked down on  them, discriminated against them, called them "black" among other epitaphs. Some were even held as slaves. Of course, their road to equality cannot compare to Black American's tedious journey.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel about my Irish heritage. I'm no longer that young naive child that gladly pronounced that she was Irish. I don't resent it either. My feelings, like Black genealogy, is complicated.