Genealogy

Henry Louis Gates markets celebrity genealogy in a PBS show, entitled "Finding Your Roots with Henry Louis Gates, Jr.". Famous people, like ex-convict Martha Stewart and comic Margaret Cho, are showered with the more conversational details of their genetic past, grist for cocktail conversation in Manhattan high-rises. The show's big moments are the teary-eyed close-ups of celebrities acknowledging that their forebears were indeed as fascinating and incredibly special as they are. 

Professor Gates has an agenda beyond flattering the famous, it seems. He repeatedly normalizes genetic multiculturalism by finding some link of each celebrity to the wider human genetic family. In other words, we are all ultimately genetically related in some way.  Not a bad idea, but the elaborate and effete nature of the production doesn't capture the emotions or imagination of this humble humanist. It is sentimentalized science.

Genealogy throughout history  has done more to separate than unite, in my opinion. As a gay man, I have no genealogical roots. There are no searchable gay men in my family tree. They were closeted or exiled. Pruned from the branches. There will be no branches sprouting from mine. I am fine with that. When I consider what the descendants of Queen Victoria did to the human race, I feel fine about having no descendants of my own.

Those who are obsessed with their roots are often looking for evidence that they are somehow entitled to the luck in their lives. Few people search their genetic source for paranoid schizophrenia or psychopathy, though this would be a more practical application of exploring the human genome to create a better world. Genealogy is used by aristocrats as the justification of their privilege. Belief that their ancestors were ordained by a god to be special usually is a subtext. It never seems to occur to them that their ancestors were murderers, aggressive bullies and/or shrewd manipulators of those more powerful than themselves. After all, an Iago is a more likely progenitor than a Desdemona.

There is a line between appreciating the value of human history and obsessing on an individual's human provenance on a problem-plagued planet with 7 billion humans. While some appreciation of my personal roots has been helpful for me to develop self-understanding, I see no practical relevance in elevating my ancestors to the level of heroic scions. Each lived his/her life to his/her best, more mediocre or lowest potential. That is the simple sum of each human life at its inevitable end. As a humanist, truly becoming a brother to all human beings entails letting go of some of my personal ancestral past to join the shared moment of the here and now. Being the best human being I can be in the moment does not require any provenance.