DNA and Genealogy

Having your DNA sampled is the latest tool in the Genealogy toolbox.

It’s an opportunity to connect with kinsfolk you’d never heard of before.

And among my genealogy pals, it’s a way of tracing lines that have reached a dead-end or to prove a connection.

Some people hope their DNA sample will lead them to relatives. This is particularly poignant for adoptees.

Stories abound of people who send in their spit or swabs and then discover they aren’t related to the people they love.

Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love

Dani Shapiro’s recent memoir, Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love, falls in the latter camp.

Raised in an orthodox Jewish household, she had her DNA sampled as a lark.

The results shocked and changed the way she viewed herself within her family and sent her on a mission to find her “bio dad.”

It’s an interesting story. Shapiro’s parents were Jewish.

Her DNA results, however, reported her as only 52% Jewish. Since she had a half-sister, she quickly learned that science did not err.

The father she adored was not biologically her father.

I read Shapiro’s book in one sitting. Her absorbing tale of trying to understand is compelling.

She’s also fortunate to have tracked down the sperm donor within 48 hours. It doesn’t happen that way for most people.

What does DNA really have to do with our genealogy, anyway?

Nothing and everything.

For medical reasons, it’s extremely important–particularly if your family carries a genetic disorder.

For cultural reasons, it’s interesting but doesn’t have to mean anything at all.

My Sicilian uncle got surprising results from his DNA test. Rather than 100% Sicilian, he turned out to be 52% Greek.

We learned this during a family gathering and laughed.

Several were delighted to discover they had Greek heritage dating back hundreds of years. “I’ll need to take another trip to Greece,” one said. “I need to soak in my heritage now that I know.”

I puzzled over this change in our genetic history. I’ve not been to Greece. I don’t care for Greek food. Yet, my uncle’s “number” suggests that I am not 50% Sicilian, but only 24%. How could I, fair skin, hazel eyes, light brown hair, and Valkyrie height, be 26% Greek?

It’s not computing for me.

My family has visited Agrigento in Sicily–the site of the finest Greek ruins in the world. We ate pasta for dinner that night.

My non-Greek, non-Sicilian father used to tell stories of how often poor Sicily was overrun by conquerors. It served as the “breadbasket” of southern Europe for centuries.

We shouldn’t be surprised that Greek DNA runs through our Sicilian line.

For us, it’s a source of laughing stories.

Maybe shared DNA doesn’t mean you’re related?

Shapiro initially denied the DNA test results. She knew and adored all her Orthodox relatives.

Except that she didn’t look like any of them.

A fair-skinned blonde, she’d been challenged since childhood that she couldn’t possibly be Jewish.

When she first saw her “bio-dad” on a YouTube video, she was transfixed. He not only looked like her but also moved as she did, and, according to her husband, “ran a question and answer sessions the same way.”

How could the late father who raised her not have been her father?

And yet, how could she deny the pull and the recognition she, as a 54-year-old woman, immediately saw in the bio-dad?

In my own family, as a result of DNA testing, we wrote to someone with a surname that goes back five generations in our genealogy.

I wanted to know what they could tell us about the Cunningham line and where it may have intersected with ours.

The wife of the man on our list wrote back to say she didn’t recognize any of the names on the family tree I included.

Therefore, she reasoned, we couldn’t be related.

I laughed. Why did her husband’s DNA so closely match that of one of my relatives?

Could that DNA connection be lying?

Of course not. But I wrote a kind thank you and let her go.

The relatives we know provide plenty of entertainment. I saw no reason to get involved with distant ones.

Our family’s experience

When I examined the highly scientific DNA results from another family member, I puzzled over all the Scandinavian names.

Why were we connected to a Sven Sorenson, or an Inger Bjorklund, much less an Anastasia Molotov?

(Not the exact names).

I didn’t remember the Norse or Russians conquering Sicily, leaving their DNA in our hapless ancestors.

It made no sense.

But then I saw my great-grandmother’s maiden name and remembered we had another side of the family!

That side of the family traces back to the founding of the United States and to pioneers from Denmark four generations ago.

It also explains why some of the children look like their Sicilian cousins and others don’t look like they belong at all.

DNA will do that to you. Siblings who don’t share the same skin color.

Should you have your DNA done?

It depends on what you’re looking for.

If you’re adopted and wondering about where your birth family came from, maybe.

Perhaps, like Shapiro, sperm donation played a part in your conception (You might consider watching this film: Anonymous Father’s Day.)

Perhaps you’re a genealogist trying to tackle a confusing family line.

Do you have a genetic disease that your family doesn’t know anything about?

Maybe you’re just curious.

Consider privacy issues and do your research. Should you get one done?

Know why you’re looking at your DNA results.

If you have questions, ask a professional to explain.

If you’re shocked by the results, don’t be hasty with your assumptions. Talk about the results with people who can help you interpret them.

And if you get a surprise without any consequences–like you’re more Greek than Sicilian–take it with a grain of salt and laugh.