Daughter of Ghana

We did it every time we started our circle
 introduced ourselves through our mother's line. 
I am Dionne daughter of Jeanine, daughter of Winifred,
daughter of Sally...and there I would stop. 

I had no connection past my great grandma,
"Big Grandma" is what I called her or so I'm told. 
As I listened to the other women go back through 
their mothers I felt a longing to know more. 

Where did I come from? 

Though my mom tried to help very few of the stories 
of my family were written down let alone shared with her. 
There were whispers that we had Native American blood 
within us. I discovered this was a common story in many 
African American household; a testament to the level of 
shame and sadness the legacy of slavery has left with us. 
We'd rather claim that heritage as if trading one painful 
history for another was better. "Besides all of that was 
grown folks business", she would tell me, "In my day kids 
weren't allowed to listen to grown folks talk."
 
As the grown folks aged and past on coupled with the 
sad history of this country, our stories...my stories were 
lost. 

I felt lost. 

The question of identity has plagued many African 
Americans. Like many before me, I longed to know
more than what little was safe to teach us in a few 
paragraphs of a history book in school.

Among others, author Terry Pratchet is quoted as 
saying “If you do not know where you come from, 
then you don't know where you are, and if you don't 
know where you are, then you don't know where you're 
going. And if you don't know where you're going, you're 
probably going wrong.”


What was my starting place and where the heck am 
I going? This question burned within me. 

Though the Internet proved useful in my initial search 
(I found my great, great grandmother),  I had reached 
the great divide where no records of slaves were kept. 
And still the longing to know consumed me. I wanted to 
know what contribution to life in this country we made 
beyond the shame and heartbreak of slavery. 

I want to know what tribe my people came from. 

Inspired by the show African American Lives, I decided 
to take a DNA test to find out where my mother's people 
originated from and reclaim them surrounded by circle 
of women. 

I have to tell you I went back and forth on the decision 
because the information effects all the women from my 
mother's side; aunts and girl cousins, my daughter and 
any girl children that come from her. Would knowing and 
sharing this information do harm to them? Would it shatter 
our long held family beliefs about our place in the world? 
Or would it elevate us, make us wiser and connect our
family to something deeper? Either way i had to know. 

The process was painless; several cotton swaps rubbed
 in my mouth sealed in a capsule and returned to a lab.  
Within a few weeks I had the results.  

We gathered in circle, my then tribe and me, placing 
pictures on the altar and sharing stories of our mothers, grandmothers and great grandmothers.  With each retelling 
we breathed life into them until the room seemed to me filled 
with their presences.

The results were read.  With 98% accuracy my mother's 
line came from Ghana.  My mother ancestors were welcomed back and celebrated.

Knowing where I started out has helped me focus on where 
I'm  wanting to go.  Knowing has brought a level of comfort 
when thing along the journey get rough because there's  a 
well of strength from the ancestors within me waiting to be 
drawn upon. 

Knowing gave me a deeper perspective of which ancestral 
gifts to keep and which to walk away from.  This is one act 
which is without a doubt part of my legacy; my way to touch 
seven generations into the past and seven generations into the future. 

Knowing means I can say 
without a doubt I am Dionne, 
daughter of Jeanine, 
daughter of Winifred, 
daughter of Sally, 
daughter of Mary
a daughter of Ghana.

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