There somewhere is a photo – taken to preserve history – of my inner cheek being swabbed with a cotton swab, ready for DNA testing to find my roots. Two years earlier, in 2008, my mother died by suicide at the age of 60. The coroner said she was unusually healthy for a woman of her age, which only exposed the gulf between her physical and mental conditions. It was this sudden, shocking loss that drove me to find a deeper meaning in my life.
My mother left Jamaica at the age of 10 to join her father and stepmother in England. Similarly, my father left the tiny Caribbean island of Nevis as a teenager to study mathematics and engineering. They met, married and settled in a suburb of London, where I was born and raised.
I have always been proud of my identity as a person of Black Caribbean origin, and I knew the stories of my paternal great grandfather who was born on the tail end of slavery in St Kitts, the twin island of Nevis. He grew up to be a successful entrepreneur in the construction industry and was instrumental in establishing the first organization in St Kitts to act as a trade union. But I didn’t know anything about my African ancestry before the transatlantic slave trade until I came across a DNA testing company called African descent.
I took a test that allows a person to discover the specific ethnicity of their mother’s maternal line, up to 2,000 years ago. Three weeks later I found out that I am descended from the Fang and Tikar people of Cameroon and Gabon.
So much of popular psychology focuses on the need to individuate and self-actualize. But the need to belong to a race, culture and community is hardwired into us, and is an integral part of our sense of self. So how is identity formed? How do we know who we are?
“Identity Development is an extremely complex process that is influenced by a variety of factors,” explains Dr Sarah Gaither from the Department of Psychology & Neuroscience at Duke University. “This includes where you live, messages your parents, peers or teachers give you, and encounters and experiences where someone might question you or notice something different about you. Usually these encounters cause someone to learn about whatever that identity or difference may be. They either accept that part of themselves by learning to internalize it, or decide that the identity does not match their sense of self.”
In fact, Gaither’s own career was shaped by growing up as a biracial Black/White woman, which led her to research how multiple racial and social identities influence a person’s behavior. “As humans, we all have a fundamental need to belong socially,” she says. “It’s that feeling of belonging to a group that gives you a sense of identity and wholeness. And more importantly, people’s identity often changes over the course of a lifetime.”
Since the age of six, I knew I was a writer, after a teacher praised a story I had written. My mother taught me the alphabet before I went to school and I started reading quickly. She helped nurture my love of literature by taking me to the library every week.
By the age of nine I was devouring as many magazines as I could get my hands on and knew I wanted to be a journalist. I was also fascinated by the mechanics of songwriting, listening to Madonna songs on repeat and dissecting the lyrics to understand how to construct my own songs. When my mother died, I had been a working journalist for eight years, but I don’t think she ever read a single article I wrote – she showed no interest in this core part of me. In this she was, as always, a woman of contradictions.
Discovering that the Tikar people of Cameroon were known for their artistry and storytelling made me realize that my deep-rooted love of writing was rooted in something bigger than myself. According to the Roots Revealed blogmany Tikar people were gifted in writing, acting, dancing and music. Despite my mother’s lack of interest, I could believe there was a set of ancestors who would have embraced my writerly self and encouraged me to share my stories.
In their golden age, they held political and financial power in Cameroon by exporting iron and bronze, masks and sculptures. They were targeted by merchants who, driven by envy, sought to bring about their downfall. They thought that the trafficked Tikar people were destroyed, but they were seeds that were replanted and, against all odds, blossomed. This narrative of true resilience, grit and determination is truly inspiring.
“Finding your ancestral roots can bring about a new way of thinking about your identities, and past and present belonging,” says Gaither. “Immersing yourself in learning your history can bring a new sense of self and purpose as it can connect you to something bigger.”
According to a 2019 YouGov survey, an estimated 4.7 million people in the UK have used a DNA test kit, while 60% of the population are interested in taking a DNA test. When Emma Parsons-Reid’s mother took a test six years ago, it led to the discovery that she was descended from Danish royalty. “We are descendants of Queen Estrid [who was born around 997] and my mother was allowed to visit her grave privately in Denmark, as she proved she was related,” says the 57-year-old grandmother from Cardiff. “It put a spring in my step and made me more daring – I stand up for myself. I was assertive about poor service and I call out bad behavior when I see wrongdoing.”
However, DNA testing can come at a price. Gaither explains, “For some people, learning about their past can be harmful. If it brings up things you didn’t know, you can feel insecure about yourself. This dissonance in identifying one way but knowing something contradictory can be difficult to overcome.”
But can discovering your ancestral roots help you express dormant parts of your own personality? “Science has been very clear that, biologically, there is no such thing as race—it’s a social construct,” says Keon West, author of The Science of Racism (to be published by Picador in January). “The associations we make between race and our preferences and activities are dubious at best. In general, people are good at what they do, regardless of their background. That said, it can be helpful to remember that the world is full of a great variety of diverse people, and that what is considered strange in one culture is perfectly normal in another. British men, according to stereotypes, hate dancing. A British man who can’t resist the call of dance may find comfort in discovering that he is part Cuban, Trinidadian or Russian, as it may remind him that there are places in the world where dancing is a normal, valued trait in men. It would turn him, in his own mind, from an odd Brit to a dancer of a line of dancers.”
Tom Bratchford, A 48-year-old Australian, he has always felt an affinity with the sea and with fjords and forests, despite living in the suburbs of Adelaide. He was adopted by a family with English and Irish roots, and when he found his birth mother 27 years ago, it all made sense. “I feel such a connection with the sea that I used to say I wanted to be buried by the sea. Then I found out that my natural mother is from a shipbuilding family in Norway,” he says. “I was always drawn to Norse mythology and Scandinavia and didn’t know why. Now I feel connected to a place on the other side of the world, and I feel pride and a sense of belonging to know who I am deep down.”
It’s clear that discovering your genetic heritage can be the missing puzzle piece to helping people embrace who they are. “We all feel like the outsiders sometimes, and there are parts of all of us that clash with our local cultures,” says West. “Discovering our genetic heritage can remind us that we belong to more of the world than our own little towns, and that we are more complex and diverse, even as individuals, than we usually think.”
After leaving her homeland, my mother never returned to Jamaica. She said the circumstances of her departure were too sad to ever return. Shortly after taking that DNA test, I visited Jamaica for the first time, finally able to piece together some parts of my more recent history. Of my mother’s life, I have forever etched fragments – photos, stories, hearsay – and events into my consciousness that remain largely unspoken. Knowing her genetic beginnings (and mine) gives me something else to cling to.
Greta Solomon is the author of Heart, Sass & Soul (Mango Publishing, £12.99); gretasolomon.com
