i want to know

where i come from. from what place centuries ago that brave woman departed; either by her own will and means or against it. while the 'story of us' told tirelessly by my grandmother in her living room and across her bed, standing at the stove and amidst breezes on her screen porch, has etched itself into my memory, fastened itself to my construction of who i am and where i come from, established within me a sense of belonging to and identification with a people whose struggles and triumphs paved the way for the life of abundance i enjoy today; there is still a missing piece. and i want to know.

oral tradition can only take you back so far. as of today, by the grace and patience and memory of my grandmother, i have managed to successfuly trace my roots to Olivia. the woman after whom my Olivia Marley was named. And it is in that matrilineal line that we know this: i was born isis maat-tet dallis, my mother was born sharonee twanna dallis, her mother - mildred louise lindsey, her mother - fannie-mae jones, her mother - marietta williams, her mother...Olivia. And based on the year and geography, Olivia was most certainly a slave at least part of her life living in Georgia or South Carolina.

So what does that make me? Here is where the 'missing piece' comes in. I remember as a child feeling confused and embarrassed when we would have 'cultural day' at school. All the kids from italian families would bring in some delicious pasta dish, the polish, the german, the spanish, the welsh, you name it, all would do the same. I hadn't the foggiest idea what to bring. I was African-American. I suppose i could have looked up some random country in Africa, claimed it as my ancestral homeland and tried to whip up a dish from there. but really? i couldn't be any more specific than that? It's like saying i'm European - well, that could mean italian, or spanish or french or swedish; all completely different ethnicities, nationalities, customs, cultures, foods, etc.

Ultimately i ended up bringing some version of soul food which originated in the southern united states. Candied Yams or Cornbread, Fried Chicken (really) or black eyed peas. So you're saying you are....southern? The idea that the end of my genealogical imagination stopped dead at the border of the united states south has always been a difficult issue for me. the notion that my heritage, my ancestry seemed to begin and end in a place, a region, and period in history (slavery) that was so mired in pain, so steeped in loss and devastation and shame was saddening.

In history class we never learned who these people were before they were enslaved. Just that they were slaves. As though they had come from nowhere at all. If someone were to ask, "who were your ancestors? "They were slaves", I'd say. that was all i knew. The teacher would beam at us as though she was about to announce that she was taking us all on a trip to Disneyland. She would say, "We are going to trace our roots back as faaar as they can go!" Cool! Wow! Wait... i already know how this story is going to end. Meanwhile, erik over here is going to come in with some eighty page novel about how his ancestors were explorers who sailed across the world and discovered most of civilization. next assignment please! : )

All the interesting stories about my family (it seemed) happened on the more recent side of history. my great grandparents generation were teachers, and skilled laborers, cooks and seamstresses, photographers and small business owners. But after you got back a few generations it just sort of ended in the same place: their parents were sharecroppers and theirs were slaves. I've since matured in my thinking to not utter those words with such disdain and remorse. It's true. They were slaves. But that is just the life and identity they were given on this soil. They were also people whose culture and identity had been stripped away from them when they were captured and brought here against their will. They had a beautiful, rich, culture and heritage before they arrived on the auction block. And that is what i want to find out.

So, i am fortunate to be married to someone who cares deeply about me understanding this missing piece of my identity (and that of our children). For my birthday this year, he surprised me (and my whole family) with this African Ancestry Test kit while sitting at my grandparents house one afternoon. He said it is a gift for all of us. It is.

Researchers have been capturing the DNA samples of thousands indigenous people in every african nation. African Ancestry has the largest African lineage database of these samples in the world. As women, we carry the same mitochondrial DNA as our mother, our mother's mother, our mother's mother's mother, etc. forever. So, by taking my DNA, they are able to analyze it against those strands in their database and determine the country (and sometimes a particular African ethnic group within a country) where my maternal ancestors originated from.

if nothing more it will help me extend my story. extend it past the dead end of slavery, across that vast atlantic ocean and to a place with its own unique history and culture. it will help me create a conection to some of the cultural traditions, stories, foods, music, art, and history so many people take for granted knowing their whole lives. i can not wait.

i took the test on the 17th of November and it takes 4-6 weeks for the results. so any day now i'll know. you can be sure it will be my first post once it arrives. any guesses? adam thinks my ancestors came from Sierra Leone. i believe that's what he guessed. i'm not positive as i stopped listening just as he began to backpedal after saying something to the effect of, 'that's definitely where you get that forehead, honey. i'm sure of it." since this gift is such a meaningful, thoughtful, potentially life-changing gift, i'll give him a pass on that one. : )