The Most Important Thing To Me

   

My Heritage

by Sabena Burkhart

            The most important thing to me is my heritage. This year for Christmas, my mom bought me a 23andme kit. I was so excited! I always joke around with my friend how different I look, or how some people think my ancestry is something that it is not. I always get asked what my background is the minute I give them my name, or strangers coming up to me speaking a language I barely understand. Growing up, I always knew the three main regions my ancestors came from. Italy, Ireland, and Germany were the only countries I knew I had ancestral history in. Other countries never rang a bell as to where we are from. So this 23andme was not only a gift but a luxury opportunity to see how far my bloodline goes.
    A gruesome task it was to get the DNA extracted. I had to spit in a cup, which wasn’t very attractive and then wait for 2-3 weeks to get the results. If I had to choose, I must say waiting was the most excruciating part of the process.  However, on January 10th, I finally got my results. I was in the middle of history class, but I had received the email and couldn’t resist.
    I wasn’t very surprised to see the three main branches of my blood. German, Italian, and Irish were laced within the results on the page. What did surprise me was the percentages. All my life I assumed my olive skin was from the very prominent Italian side of me. I knew further into the Italian side of my life than anything. But instead, I was barely 20% of Italian. My most prominent side of me was Irish. I was 30% Irish! I’ve never been more surprised in my life. I knew my cousins were little freckled Irish children, and that my mother’s maiden name was O’Brien, but realizing just how Irish I was never crossed my mind.
    I also had native American, and Iberian in me. My grandmother told stories of how she knew we were a little native American on her mother’s side, but I never believed her because she grew up in Newfoundland, Canada. Her mother was very French, and not much else so to believe we had native American was something I didn’t grasp. Yet, there it was on my report. A sly yellow line representing Native American, along with a thicker stripe labeled “Iberian”. Coming up as only 3%, Iberian was still there and was probably the most shocking. I didn’t freak out or run to my mother complaining about how she never told me about this missing piece, but I was still surprised to see it. I’ve never heard anything about Spanish, Portuguese, or Iberian being traced within my blood. So to see this, although small, I smiled and found it amusing to see.
To someone my age this might be cool for about a day, and then it fades in the coming weeks. However, I still get giddy when looking at the results. I check them every so often, unconsciously looking if maybe something has shown up as if they were constantly changing.  My heritage is very important to me. I love having some connection to people when they talk about their ancestry. Butterflies swarm in my stomach when I hear anyone speak Italian, German, or even in an Irish brogue. So now I can proudly say that, yes, I am Irish, Italian, German with a splash of Native American and Iberian.