I’ve never considered taking one of the DNA analysis tests. I have no idea whatsoever about the makeup of my ancestry; what’s more, I’m content to remain ignorant. I consider it totally irrelevant. I’m not even interested in my own family tree.
What little I do know of my lineage fades into the mist around two generations back. There is no old family Bible or bureau full of sepia prints to provide details; no family stories of illustrious forefathers or adventurous pioneer roots. I do have one aunt that delved into family history on my father’s side, but to date I’ve never examined her findings. I’m not sure I ever will.
My lack of curiosity, or at least ambivalence, about my heritage may be hard to explain. The known relatives and kin, both near and distant, have been a degenerate bunch for the most part. Without even trying to know, I was aware of our family values including things like abuse, addiction, crimes and misdemeanors, and a vast array of ignorance and meanness. There certainly were nice people in the bunch, including my own two parents, but it can’t be denied that such folks were the exception.
And thriving amongst all that, like weeds in a rotted garden, were the smiling faces. The ones that accepted, abetted, lied, enabled and covered up all that bad behavior; the ones that bred it and fed it and clasped it to their breasts in lieu of love. Or in the name of love.
See, nothing on a family tree is going to make that okay. If the genetic load I came from has been slowly evolving, then there’s little more than slime past the distant horizon and our transformation has been too little and too long coming. If my distant ancestors were nothing to be embarrassed about, then that means things are barreling downhill fast and disaster looms.
I get no comfort from considering either possibility.
I prefer to experience my life as the random construction of possibilities that DNA actually embodies. That makes me related to, but entirely apart from, all those of my biological lineage. I want my life’s path to stand alone, without assistance or expectation from the past generations, without obligation or contribution to those of the future.
My DNA’s my own. Everything else is just a tale of questionable veracity and even less utility.