A Question of History: Ancestry, Heritage & Stories

Three weeks ago, because of an out of town guest, I ended up at the Family Heritage Experience here in Boston. I didn’t think much of it at the time; a membership seemed more cost effective than admission. Hence, a door opened I wasn’t prepared to enter.

Research databases were part of the “membership.” When I got the welcome email, there was research link. Previously, I’d found a census records on line from the 1930’s for my mother’s family. The birthdates matched their obituaries. My maternal grandmother’s name is unusual, so I entered it into the database. That search yielded a link to census record from the late 1800’s that indicated she was the granddaughter of the head of household. I froze.

Pre civil war. There was never any doubt that I am a descendant of the enslaved Africans. From my father’s side, I know there were two brothers from Scotland, and DNA confirmed one of my female ancestors was in a rape cabin. But this, on my mother’s side, the ability to potentially see the census record with names and dates, I could not press enter. Three weeks later, I’m not going there yet. Maybe there’s nothing, or maybe there’s everything.

If there is a name, the next step is 10 Million Names. I am reminded of what I say when I teach yoga. Between movements, I encourage participants to pause and assess, how do you feel? It’s like looking out a window or stepping outside to check on the weather and determine how you procede with the day. I’ll admit it, I’m on pause. I am not ready to click that link, yet.

There are cautions with DNA testing, particularly around misattributed parentage. I colleague was spun into crisis when his DNA test revealed a German lineage, not Irish as he thought. A family member confessed what had been withheld from him. Clicking on the link is not the same and yet, I approach with caution. This week, how much of your family history do you know? How much of your family history do you know to be true?