Wait…I Actually Have White Genes In my Black Body?

As an African American, I’m always trying to come to terms with my DNA results and family history. I actually have white genes in my black body. A number of branches on both sides of my family trace back to Europe. The noted culinary, cultural historian, and author Michael W. Twitty of The Cooking Gene, winner of the 2018 James Beard Award, writes of the descendants of enslaved Africans, “Thirty percent of our fathers were white men. They were slave ship crew members, overseers, slave traders, or slaveholders. They were history’s largest aggregate of absentee fathers.”

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In my family, although acknowledging our white genes, both sides told stories of Native American blood running through our veins. Perhaps, it was how they tried to explain the many shades of color in our family. On my mother’s side, their European genes stare back at them through their light skin, the result of a few generations of mulattoes marrying mulattoes. This veritably makes me the black sheep of the family in regards to phenotype. Some of my ancestors were so European-looking that I was amazed they were still enslaved on their white fathers’ plantations.

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After emancipation, at least two of my mulatto ancestors that I am aware of moved away from their families and passed for white. One moved to Maryland from Virginia and passed. He married, had several children, and finally. On his deathbed, he confessed to his family that he was of African descent. The other was my paternal 2^nd Great Grandfather, a mulatto. He moved from Alabama to Texas with his mulatto wife and they lived out the remainder of their years passing. A record at the funeral home where he was buried affirmed he was white, hence confirming he was successful and looked white enough to pass.

I think it’s necessary to talk about what it means to have white genes in black bodies, and why those who have enough of it to pass sometimes do. As an African American, a black man with a mixed heritage, I not only have African descendants as cousins, I also have European descendants. So, I must encounter the white man in me—all 26% of him—as well as the African, to continue my journey of self-discovery.

This exploration takes unrelenting determination. Twitty describes it as “the fine art of scaling the invisible brick wall.” Toni Carrier, the Director for the Center for Family History, International African American Museum, and nationally recognized genealogist of African American history and culture, says, “DNA is the great equalizer in turning around the unwritten history of the African experience in America. A lot of brick walls have come crashing down with the advent of DNA testing, and a lot of family secrets as well.” When I tested with AncestryDNA, I inadvertently unearthed secrets of European heritage my Black ancestors took to their graves, just as my white ancestors took their secrets to their graves – they fathered black children with enslaved African women. These secrets have become part and parcel of piecing together my identity and heritage.  At this point, I can’t continue to deny the reality of my family history. So I am choosing to embrace it.

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