Thoughts on DNA and sense of identity: When 'Where Are You From?' Takes You Someplace Unexpected

I came across this article from NPR this morning that explores how our sense of identity can change when the stories in our DNA don't match the stories our families have told us, or the stories we've told about ourselves.

A communications professor at West Chester University runs the DNA Discussion Project, where she invites students to learn about their cultural history through a DNA test, and then discuss whether the results match or change how they feel about their heritage—and ultimately themselves.

This really resonated with me as an adoptee. Growing up, I felt like something was lacking in my sense of identity because I didn't know where I came from. My mom's family was Irish and my dad's family was German and English, but neither of those represented me, because my genetic family tree was completely different from both of theirs. My family tree was a question mark.

But even though my mom and I didn't share biology, I always identified strongly with her side of the family. Her parents were Irish immigrants who came to the U.S. in the 1920s through Ellis Island and moved to Philadelphia. One of my aunts has a copy of my grandparents' immigration papers. My mom is the youngest of 8, and they're a big, loud, passionate Irish Catholic family. More than anything, I wanted their story to also be part of my genetic story.

I met my biological family when I was in college, and it turns out we have a strong Irish heritage on both sides. My genetic ancestors came to the U.S. much, much earlier than my adoptive family did, though. My first biological relatives came here from Ireland in the 1700s and 1800s. Genetically, I'm not nearly as Irish as I wanted to be.

My mom's Irish immigrant history was always a source of pride for me, even though it wasn't part of my own biological history. I always tried to convince myself I was as Irish as she was. Finding out that I'm actually a generic white American mutt definitely changed the way I saw myself.

Some of my siblings want to do a DNA test to see if our background matches the stories we've heard from our biological relatives. Part of me is curious, but part of me never wants to find out, because that will definitively challenge what I wish I could be.

The internalized politics of identity and family pride can get complicated when you're adopted.

This is the part of the article that resonated with me most as an adoptee:

One of her students, Kimberly Wederfoort, grew up thinking her background was primarily East Asian and European. All her life, she was asked if she had any African-American ancestry, and all her life, she said no. But after Wederfoort took her DNA test, she learned that about a quarter of her genetic markers appeared to be African.

"I felt like something wasn't told to me when I found out my nationalities," Wederfoort says. "I felt like something was being hidden from me."

After having some time to process the new information, Wederfoort says that she wouldn't want to change anything about her results. But, she says, "I kind of look at my life and my past a little bit differently now."

Have any other adoptees felt that same sense of dissonance between who you are genetically and who you want to be instead?