Heritage

I spent a hot but enjoyable day at the Highland Games yesterday, mingling with crowds of people in traditional Scottish garb and watching various events: sheepdog trials, athletic contests, Highland dancing, and of course the pipe band contests. After getting a good dose of bagpipes, I perused the stalls of vendors and visited some clan booths, to try to track down the origins of the one Scottish name in my family history that I was familiar with. While doing so, it struck me again that I know so little about my own heritage, and that my family tree is so diverse that at times I feel disconnected from any specific ethnic roots. At events like these, I see people who are strangers but are nevertheless bonded together by a strong sense of identity in their cultural heritage, and I envy them for that. I have found things to admire in many cultures’ arts and histories, even if they are not a part of my ancestry, and I believe that helps me to be a more open person and less likely to be prejudiced. But still, anyone who has been on the outside might agree with me that one wishes to belong, to have a group to identify with. It helps to be reminded by events like this, that even if it is only little pieces here and there that can be identified as Irish, or Scotch, or German, or Dutch, or whatever, I can take pride in that little bit and be spurred on to find out more about it.
Do you know what irritates me? On surveys and questionnaires and the like, where I have to select my ethnic background, the categories are so general. Asian. African-American. Pacific Islander. Latino. Arab. White. That gets me. Just because I’m white-skinned doesn’t mean I have more in common with a white person from Norway or the Ukraine than I do with an African-American person with black skin. Often there are more specific categories for “Latino” as well: Mexican, Cuban, Puerto Rican, South American, etc. This is all fine and good, but then why can’t we white people select the strands of our ancestry? It probably has something to do with the fact that the emigration of my ancestors occurred at least two or three generations ago, but it would still be nice not to have to settle for “white.” Yes, I’m an All-American Mutt, but for me “white” includes Irish-Scotch-English-Swedish-German-Dutch (did I miss any?), whereas for a friend of mine it might include Polish-French-English-?-?
It looks like “diversity” is actually starting to become a blending of many races and cultures, less distinction, more dilute, unified more by nationality and ideals. In many ways, this is “progress,” progress away from racism and prejudice, but it makes me wonder about the world in three generations from now (especially here in America, where cultural traditions are not as strong, and holidays are more commercial than celebration of historical events). Will people know about their roots? Will they still celebrate with traditional dress, food, music, dancing, and art? Will they know what they are a part of, and be willing to remind the rest of us, so we can enjoy those rich traditions too?
I called up my mom, with bagpipes sounding in the background, and asked about our Scotch-Irish branch of the family. What she could tell me sounded complicated, so she said she would bring some notes on our family tree with her, when she comes to visit soon. Thank goodness. In the meantime, I am enjoying some things I bought, featuring Celtic knots. I have always loved the beautiful puzzle of them, and the ancient feel of that art. So even if I am not full-blooded or even half Irish or Scottish, I am glad of that little I do have to identify with; I now know what the tartan and family crest of the MacArthur clan is, and by golly at least I’ll have something good to wear for St. Patrick’s Day!