Chapter 1: The Misrepresentation of Identity

Understanding Identity Beyond DNA

My ancestry report.

I have never seen myself as white. In my family, being called white is considered a deep insult. Phrases like “you’re acting white” and “that’s some white people stuff” have resonated throughout my upbringing. Hearing such comments is jarring because they dismiss my Latinidad, my Blackness, and my Indigenous roots, fundamentally undermining who I truly believe I am. The underlying message suggests that adopting behaviors typical of white people means abandoning my diverse cultural identities. This discussion isn't solely about the challenges faced by communities of color, but it significantly influences my perspective on the results of my DNA test.

When Genetic Testing Poses Risks for Black Individuals

The troubling implications of ancestry testing for Black individuals

The Experience of a DNA Test

Rewind to June 2018, a time when at-home DNA tests were incredibly popular. Commercials flooded television, and celebrities began revealing their surprising heritage percentages. My family decided to join in on the trend, eager to uncover our lineage. We each collected saliva samples and eagerly awaited the results. However, when the results finally arrived, I was disheartened. The report indicated that my ancestry comprised 35.7% European, 29.7% sub-Saharan African, 27.7% East Asian and Native American, 2.4% Western Asian and North African, and 4.5% unassigned. Based on my sister's earlier results, I anticipated a more balanced breakdown, but I was taken aback by the prominence of my European ancestry, which represented the largest portion of my DNA.

The testing service provided a plethora of data about my ancestry, including detailed insights about where my genetic markers fell on chromosomes. It was overwhelming yet fascinating; as someone passionate about history and social studies, I absorbed all this new information. While it was enlightening to learn about my heritage, I hadn't anticipated how this newfound knowledge would complicate my understanding of my identity.

Contextual Background

Growing up, I always identified as Latina, as my father hails from El Salvador and my mother is of Dominican descent. I believed that being Latina defined my racial identity. I was surprised when a classmate in middle school asked if I was Black. At that moment, I thought, “Why would he think that?” I spoke Spanish, had curly hair, and enjoyed a diet rich in Latin cuisine. What could be more Latina than that? While I engaged with the Black community in New York City, I never considered myself part of it. The distinctions between Latinx and Black identities felt clear, yet my experiences were intertwined. I responded to the classmate, “No, I’m Latina,” and he accepted my answer without further inquiry. In hindsight, I wish I had explored that identity further.

Of course, I was not well-versed in the historical context of transatlantic enslavement and colonialism's impact on Latin America and the Caribbean. I had a simplistic view that all Latinx individuals belonged to a distinct race of tan-skinned people, unaware of the complexities that shaped our identities.

For those unfamiliar with how colonialism and the slave trade influenced racial dynamics in Latin America, I recommend checking out these insightful videos:

It wasn't until my college years that I began to grasp how colonization and enslavement fostered racial mixing in Latin America and the Caribbean. I learned about “mestizos” like my father (Indigenous and European descent) and “mulattoes” like my mother (African and European descent), among other mixed identities found in Latin America. This understanding prompted me to reconsider how my race and ethnicity could be separate constructs. I enrolled in a course on race and ethnicity in the Americas, and I left both confused and enlightened regarding my racial and ethnic identity.

In our studies, we explored various definitions of race and ethnicity, settling on the notion that race is a socially constructed identity based on physical attributes, while ethnicity is shaped by cultural and historical backgrounds. It’s worth noting that these definitions are not rigid; they often shift based on personal context. For instance, someone raised in a racially homogeneous area might misidentify a dark-skinned Latina as African American due to their limited exposure to diverse identities.

In the U.S., many Latinx individuals identify both their race and ethnicity as Latinx, not aligning with conventional racial categories like “African American” or “white.” This historical racialization complicates the distinction between race and ethnicity. For those existing outside the Black-white binary, fitting into these categories becomes challenging.

Acknowledging race through this lens often involves confronting colorism within Latin American culture. For some, this means grappling with Black identity, while for others, it involves reconciling with whiteness. Each perspective reveals the privileges and challenges faced by Latinx individuals based on skin color.

My Encounters with Race and Ethnicity

I once labeled my race as Latina, but my self-identification didn't align with how others perceived me. In middle school, where I was one of the few students of color, many identified me as Black—except for my close friends. In high school, where the majority of students were Latinx, I was typically recognized as Latina. At college, with a more diverse student body, I received various identifications, often being asked if I was Indian, Black, or Middle Eastern. This led me to realize that race is largely shaped by external perceptions. It made me question, “What does this make me?”

Last summer, I came to understand that while the complexities of race and ethnicity can be daunting, I have control over how I identify. Drawing from my cultural experiences and personal history, I now embrace identities such as Afro-Mestiza, Latina, and mixed race, while also acknowledging my Black heritage. Each of these identities reflects my unique experience at the intersection of various cultural narratives. I can recognize both the privileges and challenges tied to how others perceive my racial identity. Though I may never be perceived as white, I acknowledge how my European ancestry contributes to a certain acceptance within some Latinx circles. Conversely, my Blackness has also led to exclusion from others.

Why My DNA Test Doesn't Define Me

Just because I acknowledge the European lineage in my DNA doesn’t mean I’ve ever understood the lived experience of my European ancestors. Therefore, I cannot classify myself as white, because that’s not who I am.

When considering DNA tests and their implications, it's crucial to approach them with skepticism. While they can reveal intriguing insights about ancestry, they do not grant ownership over the experiences connected to that lineage, nor do they negate the realities shaped by one’s appearance. Race often lies in perception rather than genetic markers. Ultimately, how one is perceived is influenced by individual context. You may not have complete control over how others view you, but you hold the power to define your identity based on your lived experiences, cultural background, and history. Neither a DNA test nor external perceptions can strip you of that agency.