I was recently triggered by a TV advert that took me back to a recent traumatic event. Look that language is a tad dramatic so you be the judge…
It was an advert for Ancestry.com and has an awesome woman discussing her DNA results. She proudly comments ‘and who would have guessed this woman would have such a diverse heritage?’ Grrrrr, I immediately took this as gloating and changed channels on the TV.
Some background on this event…
I had purchased an Ancestry.com DNA test for Daz for Fathers Day last year. Daz immigrated to Australia as a 10 pound pom and having recently researched a bit of his family history we were very sure of his heritage. The UK! My additional guess was a Romany Gypsy, just to be cheeky and because he looks a bit dark and rugged. So after 8 weeks of waiting and me telling him very frequently about his Romany heritage his results arrived.
Daz is 54% Great Britain, 24% Scandinavian, 6% Italy/Greek 5% Iberian 4% Irish 3% European 1% Finland …. I guess the European could be the Gypsy!! He of course took on the Viking heritage with great pride and gusto and instantly grew a beard!
So of course I wanted to jump on the band wagon and for Mothers Day Daz paid for my DNA test. In my normal fashion I was constantly teasing Daz about the fact that my heritage would be SO much more diverse than him. That i was definitely from diverse and exotic stock. I absolutely had no proof of this fact! From my memory of my family tree (and please note i often do not listen well) that my sister had researched we were from the UK and had a great-grandfather who was born in Holland.
So I posted off the test and waited. I had shared my excitement with friends and heard many stories of exciting results with lots of lovely surprises of vast connections to many exotic countries. Even the waiting is very exciting, you receive updates on when it had been received and when it was in the lab.
The day finally came and after 8 weeks I got the news. Let me set the scene. It was about midnight, I had just got home after I had attended an awesome Naidoc Ball and enjoyed a few glasses of bubbles. It was such an exciting night with amazing Aboriginal dancers and music and we had a fantastic night!
I excitingly opened up my email and gasped…
I am 97% Great Britain and 3% Irish…That is it. What, this news had to be wrong. It had to be the bubbles blurring my eyes.
The result was in. I was shocked and so unimpressed. I just couldn’t believe that my heritage was so whitey white. Now don’t get me wrong there is absolutely nothing wrong with being white. (Well I guess other than the obvious colonisation supremacy history from over the ages). I am very pale skinned and English looking so not really sure why i was shocked. I admit deep, deep down i was hoping to have just a little something. Just a little bit. I had spent eight weeks dreaming of an exotic African connection or Italian or Islander or Asian, just something that would blow my mind. I was wrong!
My family for 1000’s of years had mainly lived in Southern England. Cornwall is around there isn’t it? Ok, so of course i wondered what happened to the great-grandfather who was born in Holland? No idea, obviously Grandfather Cornelis was not in my DNA.
So as I said, I was traumatised. Ok, most of my trauma was to cover my overly confident comments to Daz and for effect. Daz did explain it was because I was pure bred and that his extra percentages meant he was a mongrel. Thanks love x. I personally think that the woman of my family could run really fast so they were not caught by the Vikings, which of course is a good thing!
Thank goodness my Pilates Guru saved the day and came to the rescue and told me that i was a Cornish Wench. Bingo! That’s exactly what i wanted to hear.
So i am off to research my family history and i am pretty damn confident that a Cornish wench will be in there somewhere and I mustn’t forget about the 3% Irish.
The lesson learnt was not to be a show off and to be happy with who you are!
Have a great week.