In an era where there's a flurry of activity and interest about roots and origins, the TV show "Who Do You Think You Are?" the re-release of the series "Roots," and the easy accessibility of DNA tests through Twenty-Three and Me and Ancestry.com, it's clear there's a lot of excitement and interest in discovering connections to the past. On social media and Facebook you see people talking about gathering DNA and their mixed feelings about getting the results. The kinds of reactions people have when information about their heritage arrives run the gamut—they may be happily surprised at what's revealed, or maybe there are new family members to connect with, or surprising links to countries where they weren't aware of origins. For others, there's a sinking feeling, perhaps because of an unconscious awareness of family secrets. With the evidence offered in DNA tests, secrets pop out in the open. People discover new half-siblings, or that their father wasn’t really their father, or that they were adopted. Shocking revelations about our origins are unsettling. Some people have to enter therapy to readjust their new identity, while others may enjoy new family members or make travel plans. Those who are disconcerted or disturbed by what they find may wish they could put the genie back in the bottle.
As a family therapist, I believe, as do many of my colleagues in the therapy profession, that secrets are something we carry in our bodies and minds, even though we may not be fully aware of them. They're an unseen burden, they niggle at us in dreams, emerge in artwork or stories from a pre-conscious state. Perhaps we've always carried a restless feeling that we don't quite have the whole story about our family and ourselves. But the idea that it might be healthier if secrets were revealed doesn't have to mean that anything and everything must be known or shared. There are situations that require boundaries or finesse, and oftentimes we need to take into account the feelings and vulnerability of others.
In my work as a memoir coach, I see many writers who are working to discover and understand family, who struggle with estrangement or misunderstandings that pass through the generations. As stories evolve, family patterns and legacies are revealed. A memoirist may confront secrets that are revealed through family research, or even the writing process itself. Old photos may reveal long-lost connections, or the back of a family desk might unearth papers that had been lost for decades. When we get new information, we have to adjust our internal lens on how we see ourselves.
We begin to wonder: How do we know what family stories we've heard are true? How much of who we think we are is based on the stories the family shares around the table? But in every family there are stories that are whispered, and the secrets are the ones that are the most interesting I remember how shocked I was when I found out that my grandmother—who was raising me, who seemed a quite proper lady, restrained around men—had eloped in 1911. Though I'd heard about it accidently, eavesdropping on adult conversations, the "real" evidence was there in the records at Ancestry.com. Did this revealed secret change how I saw my grandmother? Absolutely. It made her more real, and shed light on an aspect of her personality. Seeing her in a new light was in fact inspiration for my new memoir, Song of the Plains, which was propelled by what I uncovered about my family—the women in particular—over the past forty years.
When you do genealogy research you may find information if you're lucky, but it’s also usually the case that you will never know the story behind the data you discover. Ancestry.com can help us learn about births and deaths, dates and data, but you won’t be able to help but wish that your great-aunt Matilda was alive to tell you the whole story. Or that you could ask your great-grandfather about his personal experiences with other members of the family. I was not able to find out why my grandmother left my mother when she was six years old, or why my mother left me. But I was able to stitch together enough of their lives to help me know them better.
We are—and are not—part of all that has come before us because in the end, we get to decide how we define ourselves. You get to assemble all the parts of yourself that make you "you."
If you're going to enter into the world of discovery through DNA testing or genealogical research, be prepared for surprises, and that you may find out you aren't quite who you thought you were, and that the stories you heard growing up may not all be true. You may learn about your family and generations of your ancestry, but be prepared to find out things you didn't know. It might make a good story!