I am America’s melting pot.
I am Choctaw, Comanche, and French via my father’s parents. I am Dutch-German and Scots-Irish via my mother’s maternal grandparents and and Scots-Irish and English via my mother’s paternal grandparents.
I read about all the cultures that make up me. I read about the Scots-Irish and understand the majority racial and cultural makeup of my family, because my father’s father also had Scots-Irish blood. I understand that the British government moved some of my ancestors into Ireland. I also understand the painfully Protestant, intolerant attitude of my extended family, finally.
I know that I have Irish blood because I’ve been researching my family genealogy for over 20 years and have been given copies of ancient documents by older genealogists in my family, and, after my research, and a lot of thought, Ireland is the country that sings the loudest in my blood. And it’s such a contentment to my mind to know all of who I am, and at the same time appalling to know that but for the machinations of the British government I would not have this Irish bloodline.
But I made a choice, not because Ireland is “cool,” because every bloodline that makes up me is “cool.” Oddly, I did not find out that my mothers maternal great-grandmother was Dutch-German until I wrote a Dutch vampire who became the main character of my series. I made the choice to identify most strongly as a person of Irish ancestry because I’ve always been so strongly drawn to the country, the mythology, the culture.
I’m not changing my name or anything about myself. I’ve simply chosen to study the very complicated history of Ireland, and to familiarize myself with modern Ireland, as I did with Amsterdam when I was writing my vampire. I feel at one with myself and the beautiful green island in so much peril right now due to Hurricane Ophelia. I have so very much to learn, but looking into Ireland through Twitter and the Irish people that I follow, I feel I’m seeing a glimpse of home.