Have you had obstacles that you thought you could control in your life when turning away would have been easier? At times those forays may actually be considered a challenge to beat. Others call it trying to attain a prize. I believe that God is on the scene fine tuning us. The existence of God makes me feel safe as I identify as a divorced woman. There was a time I took on the challenge in my decades old marriage to work out my relationship. Humans possess an uncanny resilience to want to fix their lives.
I want to introduce you all to my friend Kara who has become an unexpectedly wonderful friend as we journey together on our separate yet in many ways same path. Give her a big hello and let her know you have read from her by commenting below. Happy Friday all!! I have provided a link to her blog below, but as many of you know WordPress links do not always work or is that me messing up? haha Enjoy friends!
WHY MY DNA SURPRISE ROCKED MY IDENTITY/UNEXPECTEDLY JEWISH
BY KARA DEYERIN
Somehow you ended up taking an over-the-counter DNA test. Perhaps the commercial of lederhosen versus a kilt sucked you in. Or maybe you received the test as a gift for your birthday, Mother’s Day, or Christmas. Whatever brought you to the moment where you found yourself spitting into a little tube isn’t important. The only thing that matters is your little vial turned out to be Pandora’s box. And now that it’s open, you can’t go back.
When I took my DNA test I expected to find where in Africa my father’s ancestors hailed from. I was ready to visit Africa wearing a colorful Dashiki, I just needed to know which countries to visit. Being descended from slaves means my ancestry is lost to decades of oppression and rape. I wanted to know my exact heritage for myself and my three sons. I wanted to show my pride in my African heritage.
The moment my DNA results arrived, I knew there was a problem. My pie chart showed I was indeed 50% something, but it was an African ethnicity. I was 50% Ashkenazi Jew with zero African DNA—yes, 0% (Even my husband has a tiny bit). My foundation was rocked. First, because the ethnicity I was raised to believe was me was a lie and second because this meant the man on my birth certificate with not my father. I am an NPE, “Not Parent Expected.”
After I pulled myself from the abyss of my NPE discovery and could share my new reality with people, “I am not half black—I am Jewish and the man on my birth certificate is wrong,” a common response sent me running back towards the blackness. “It changes nothing, you are the same you.” They’re right it changes nothing and yet it changes EVERYTHING.
I’ve spent the past year and half thinking about identity. Why did my DNA results make me not want to look in the mirror? Why was my reflection now that of a stranger? Why am I experiencing an identity crisis? Apart from my name, which by the way isn’t what it should’ve been too, what makes me—me? Or you—you?
The man who coined the phrase identity crisis was Erik Erikson who interestingly suffered from his own crisis not too dissimilar to my own. He was raised Jewish but looked Scandinavian and didn’t know his biological father. As an adult, he changed his name and held himself out to be Scandinavian burying his Jewish past. Even though he coined the phrase and spent years studying the issue, I don’t think he ever really resolved his identity crisis.
According to Merriam-Webster, an identity crisis is “a personal psychosocial conflict especially in adolescence that involves confusion about one’s social role and often a sense of loss of continuity to one’s personality.” It’s the last part of the definition that resonates with me. Why did my DNA results and NPE status lead me to lose my stability in knowing who I was?
I brainstormed what I believe shapes our identity into three categories: Genetics, Culture, and Environment. Each of these categories has certain contributions that shape who we are.
In looking at this list, the Genetics category really only had one thing that changed, my race. My talents didn’t change nor did my gender or physical attributes. But I think there’s something more going on than just an actual change. While there was only one literal change, the lens in which I viewed myself is now different. This perception is just as important as any actual changes.
Before when I looked in the mirror, I knew who I was looking at. I was the daughter of Kenneth Vassar and Joey Michaels. Now that half of that equation was removed, I didn’t know who I was seeing. I no longer could make the comparisons we’ve all made growing up. You know, when you look in the mirror to see if you’ve inherited your nose from dad or your eyes from your grandma.
I remember looking at pictures of Kenny and my mom and thinking, well maybe it’s possible. Now that I knew it wasn’t, I wanted to know who I looked like. I was desperate to know. I hated looking in the mirror and not knowing who I was looking at. So while my physical attributes hadn’t changed, the comparisons I’d been making my entire life were no longer valid. When considering perception, I can say my physical attributes and race are now different than I thought they were. This means half of my Genetic category changed.
I believe Culture has a strong influence on who we are. Our identity is developed by the stories and family traditions we’re immersed in growing up. Many of the stories I’d heard growing up didn’t apply to me, but I embraced them as mine because it was my family’s lore and traditions. Now the only connection I have to this part of me is my past; hearing the stories of people. I wonder if this is what it’s like for the kid who spent all of his childhood at his friend’s house? Do the traditions of a family a latchkey child spends his time with become his? I think the answer is “partially.” The Culturecan be yours, but because you know your Genetics isn’t part of those traditions, you feel a little like they’re borrowed. You learn from the stories, but they are not yours.
My nationality is the same, I‘m still an American, but my ethnicity has changed. I’m no longer half black but Jewish. While I’ve come to understand what being Jewish means is complicated, I do know my desire to learn about my heritage is just as strong as it was before my DNA results. Heck, it’s that desire that brought me into this mess. And one can’t help but think about Israel if one is Jewish. Not that I’m thinking about changing my nationality, but I do believe a trip to Israel is now very high on my bucket list.
Many of you know religion is a tricky thing for me if you’ve been following my blog. I was not raised in a religious environment. I believe organized religion has done more harm than good in this world. So, the fact that Reform Judaism resonates with me is as shocking to me as my DNA results. I am trying to explore the warmth and sense of community Judaism brings me. This is a big change for me.
I do not believe family is solely those you are genetically related to, but there is something about that blood connection that means something. You know, the deadbeat relative you give a second chance to you wouldn’t give to a random guy on the street or perhaps not even to a friend. Growing up it was just mom and me and thankfully our relationship is as strong as it was before my DNA results. The connection with my husband and children hasn’t changed and I am grateful for that. In college, I dated a man whose mother couldn’t accept me because I was half black (she wanted her son to marry someone Jewish—hahaha). What if my husband was anti-Semitic and couldn’t deal with me discovering I am now half Jewish? Kenny’s and my relationship is complicated; it was complicated before my NPE. But he encouraged me to seek the truth about my heritage and family before anyone else did. Upon reflection, I am thankful my immediate family ties are the same.
While my inner family ties haven’t changed, half of my extended family is different. It is heart-breaking most of my biological paternal family has passed and no one living is willing to share my family lore or traditions with me. Much of the cultural influence affecting my identity is in flux— no wonder the category of Culture feels like it’s spinning in shaky territory.
At first glance, my Environment appears to be the most stable for my identity. I’ve made plenty of new friends along this journey, but I’ve kept all of my old friends too. But this news has caused my interests to change. I now have many Jewish cookbooks and my family is trying foods like Kugel and Shakshuka. We are questioning whether or not to practice Christmas how we used to. And, I have the shocking event of the results of my DNA test, which certainly altered the trajectory of my life. I imagine the reverberations of this news are still yet to be experienced. Perhaps my Environment is more fluid than I thought.
After looking at this I can see why I’m having an identity crisis. By learning about my new family, exploring my Jewish roots, embracing Reform Judaism, maybe evening visiting Israel instead of Africa as I’d planned I can rebuild my identity—it will just take time; lots of time. I doubt I will resolve my identity crisis, but I hope someday I can be comfortable in my new skin. Hopefully, Erik Erikson eventually felt the identity he created fit him well too.
If you meet a fellow NPE, be kind to them, there’s a lot going on. Please don’t tell them it doesn’t change anything because it does. Tell them you love them no matter what and you’ll be there to hold their hand when they need. Their NPE news changed their life path forever and they’ll need a shoulder to lean on.
If you discover you have a new relative in your family, I hope you take a moment to at least answer their questions about medical and family history. I knew their news is shocking and likely causing you to see your family in a new light. You too need time to reevaluate things. Please remember, your new relative is dealing with Pandora’s box and trying to find a way to rebuild their identity. All they want to know is who they are. You would want nothing less in their shoes.
My backyard squirrels are a bit nuts! No pun intended! Happy Thursday All!
Fair warning as this could be TMI (too much information ). I just came home from my doctor appointment at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. Before any of you begin thinking the worst, the tumors are under control. We do not know when our time is up on earth, however I do believe knowledge is power.
I stopped my world yesterday. It was a simple thing. First, I started my day cooking a meal for my autistic son. Driving it to his apartment to the delight of his feasting eyes on homemade chicken tenders was so worth it. Shortly a new job coach arrived to Luke’s home. We are hoping to increase Luke’s structured employment or volunteer hours in the community. The meeting went well.
I grew up an army brat: in other words, I was worldly enriched all over the planet with weather of all kinds. Sunny days were my favorite with mild climate on Oahu which was a blessed adventure for me as a kid. We were also stationed in Germany where snow was rare, but we did have it once in a blue moon. In the distant traveling to Garmisch-Partenkirchen, you could see a vast eye-catching mountain range with trees trailing down the sides of those ever present high peaks. What a sight to behold. Obviously, my eyes have seen so much beauty.
Hawaii always helps me to gain balance and get me in the right frame of mind. The way things work for me is to find equilibrium . The continual ability to put something in steady position is so vital to me so as to not fall to totally out of stability. As the ocean flows so my mind quietly does with the tides, robust at times and tame at others. I close my eyes and abandon myself to deep thought listening to those gentle waves while crashing at even sequencing . Oh what joy.
It does not surprise me that when I go for massage therapy, my music of choice is always the waves. As so my fond memories of not that long ago stay with me in a small room for treating my chronic pain. Funny how we go back in time to find the peace we need for today. Just food for thought for you and thanks for dropping by my friends.
Blackcap Chickadee: The little bird you love listening sing..Photo credit Nikon Camera by Alesia
Waking up to these birds always make my day: Photo Credit Nikon Camera by Alesia