If I knew who I was I would gladly shout it out, but sadly I don’t .I am and African American but I can absolutely positively not define the African side of my ancestry. I have no idea who I am. I never really thought about it, because I never really cared. Though with such a diverse society you sometime wish there was a motherland or a vacation destination to visit your grandparents and cousins. Like I said I never really cared, but recently I left the only place I could call home (U.S.A) and traveled to Yemen. People repeatedly assume that I was from Africa. They were right; I just couldn’t tell them were. Most people assume every American is and immigrant which is true, with the acceptation of Native Americans, but we misplaced the travel document back home long ago and have no way of finding it. I could easily hold responsible Europeans and their progeny, though their progeny did nothing, so what am I supposed to do, sulk in my misery and ignorance. In reality that’s what exactly millions of people have to, we could stuff it in the back of the closet with all our other hidden feelings and pretend we don’t care. I’m sure there are other races that are oblivious about all their families’ history and guess they can do the same as I. though eager and wishing that some new reasonably priced technology would help us back home. Sadly there is none, but if I get that gorgeous travel document and the bleakness is filled .I would happily let you know.
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