When I began my ancestral journey, many years ago, it was because I wanted to better understand myself. How did I come to be, here, in this time and place? Who came before me, these people who lived and loved down and down throughout time that brought me into existence? Although I’ve always held a deep love for history, by the time the questions started percolating in my mind about my own personal history, I had lost many of my natural resources. So I began my journey alone, turning to my parents and to the matriarchs of my families for guidance.
While it takes two, I’ve been drawn most to the women who reside among the branches of my family tree. Perhaps it’s an intrinsic link that binds my spirit to theirs as their blood continues to flow through me. Perhaps it’s because without them, I would cease to exist. Or, perhaps it’s because the histories of these women have been systematically dismantled and forgotten due to the times they lived, the circumstances surrounding their choices, and the society which required them to forgo an identity and accept that of their husbands.
Yet, recently upon my journey of self discovery, I realized that my desire to know and understand the feminine part part of my tree went much, much deeper than my own roots. My desire sprang from something deep and internal, some hidden part of myself that had been locked away, existing for time immemorial, but ready to be freed.