I Just Took a DNA Test, Turns Out I’m— Oh No.
If you’re reading this, you might have a morbid curiosity or are in the same boat. I took a DNA test in November 2018 for fun because it was a Black Friday deal, and I did not get the expected results. I am the result of my Mom making an unfortunate judgment call or a major “oopsie ”. She earned her mulligan with my younger sister; out of the four of us, I am the only byproduct of her questionable choice-making. We use the term “DNA NPE” to describe us or how this happened. NPE stands for “Not Parent Expected,” which stems from the genealogy term “nonpaternity event,” and in the advent of the increased usage of DNA Tests, many of us have identity crises that are very real. A woman named Catherine St Clair has essentially dictated how we handle it. Catherine also noticed that there wasn’t a support group for her new problem and created the most prominent online support group. I’m not going to link it; you can Google it. The entrance to get into this support group is so locked down for privacy that you are going through 5 rounds of vetting to be allowed access because a lot of us don’t want to let everyone know, especially family, that we are in this boat.
I should note that my parents were happily (?) married until her death from cancer in 2016, and they were together for 50 years. I have found out since my discovery that this is honestly pretty common, and I’ve disclosed it to former co-workers my family would never meet and have gotten responses that this was common for many of them, and they knew it was their “uncle” or family friend that was their biological father. In my case, my biological father is a man who now resides in California. I have a half-sibling — a family still doesn’t speak English fully because they escaped the Iran Revolution.
Am I angry at my Mom? Ask her Urn — I returned it because I got tired of looking at it, and I was contemplating putting googly eyes on the thing so I could at least laugh at my misfortune and how absurd it was. I also know that it’s childish, but the first thing you should take away is that you are allowed to be angry, sad, confused, mourning, or potentially relieved. Whatever you feel is valid, and you are the writer of your own story, so how you approach this is entirely up to you. I can only guide you and maybe make you laugh a little because if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.
I am writing this from my perspective; someone close to the family I was raised around. You might have a different relationship, so your mileage will vary.
I carefully spat my salvia into a tube shortly after Black Friday, expecting to get the results in a couple of months. It was just a few weeks, December 15th 2018, and right before Christmas. I got my results uploaded into my 23&Me app and received an email. With 23&Me, you set up your profile in the app while waiting for your spit to make it to the lab. I got a cute little infographic that explained I was nothing I was raised believing I was and that I was mostly of Middle Eastern descent. When I opened up my test, I was with a former boyfriend I was living with, renting out an in-law apartment to help his family keep the house with my financial contribution.
I sent everyone in my immediate family, including my Dad (to me, when I say “Dad,” that means the man who raised me, and I refuse to call him “Birth Certificate Father”) a text message with my results. I posted it on Facebook, thinking I got someone else’s results. I thought it was a mistake and that it was funny.
I knew my Mom was French Canadian, which turns out to be primarily Portuguese, and that my Dad was half Italian and Irish. After her death, I had more interest in tracking down her side of the family; my Dad’s family had already done family trees and Ancestry DNA tests. This unintentional sharing caused grief later when my older siblings could piece together what happened. I am my Mom’s dirty laundry and aired myself out to too many people.
Did I ever question my identity? Yep. By the time I was in high school, it was getting mentioned to me by friends of Pakistani and Bengali descent. I had features beyond being a whopping 25% Italian. I have never had a sunburn, and I have always wanted a nose job. All I would need is the random urge to own a White BMW, the calling card of every Iranian, and what is considered the dream car.
I also do not particularly look like my siblings — they look Irish and are as pale as Powder from the movie “Powder.” I have the most resemblance to my brother, which is because he’s the one that resembles my Mom the most. A confused, 15-year-old me did question my Mom. She was dismissive and made jokes that I must have been the “mailman’s daughter,” In her fun way, she said that I didn’t act like a “Mullane” sometimes. No shit, horny Sherlock. Wanting to cling to something to justify my general features meant getting an Italian flag on my high school ring, which I never wanted, but my Mom was adamant that I had.
Take a Breather Before You Share Anything
If you feel like contesting your case, this happens so much that customer service representatives for 23&Me and Ancestry have their staff undergo training to de-escalate the situation. DNA tests have an insanely low chance, basically nearly impossible, of being incorrect. This is your future; welcome to Hell!
When I called, it was after an entire day that started with getting my results, then doing mundane errands like grocery shopping. My exes’ Mom made a few jokes — about harboring a terrorist. I have a sense of humor and have no problem making fun of myself. I’ve tried to convince friends to throw a “Roast” instead of a birthday party for multiple years because I can take it, and I endorse people being funny. This started innocently and, as it was confirmed, did strain my relationship with this woman that wanted me to marry her Son so bad (because I was “Italian”) to change her opinion of me immediately. First, it was constantly playing that bad Sally Field movie nearly non-stop and having the book out, telling me about how Iranians were dirty people. She is a leftist, and she was pulling that shit.
So, feel free to call, but understand the customer service people will not be able to change your DNA magically, and they aren’t a punching bag. I’d suggest sitting down when your moment of actualization hits and you marinate in it and give yourself a few days to process this. When my older siblings told me I should sit down and pieced my own origin story, I immediately threw up.
Seek Out Help
There is that support group I mentioned. I would suggest going there first. See a therapist specializing in family crises if you have access to a mental health provider and the money for it is honestly going to help you. If you have siblings or whoever in your family is not taking this well, suggest family therapy. Air your grievances together. In my case, I think my older siblings did not take this well because they were teenagers and knew this person as a teenager. They were the ones that had to sweat out a day after they figured out what happened, and they stopped me from calling my Dad and blurting this to a man in his 70s who was already mourning his wife. They also did not want to participate in family therapy; we finally kind of agreed on doing it, then the world shut down in March 2020. There is also media on this beyond Catherine St Clair, and if you want to watch something, I would suggest Kulap Vilaysack’s documentary “Origin Story.” My situation isn’t a carbon copy of hers, but we through the same thing at different times in our lives.
There is also a growing amount of books on the topic. I would first start with Inheritance: A Memoir of Genealogy, Paternity, and Love by Dani Shapiro personally. Reading the personal experience of someone going through this is more accessible than reading a dedicated self-help book, but that is a matter of preference. Buy all the books.
Have Realistic Expectations On Your Search
If you reach out to your biological parent(s), expect that they might not want it. It sucks, and life isn’t fair, but I guess to keep in mind that the other party might have their family and want to keep it that way. Regardless, you weren’t a mistake.
I took two days off of work, calling my co-worker shortly after vomiting from getting the phone call from my older sister, and used this time not to process anything — I found my biological sperm donor. 23&Me has a built-in family tree that most people opt-in because the point is to see family connections. When a cousin popped up with a middle eastern name, I contacted him on Facebook with the barebone narrative that my older siblings retained. He told me he would reach out on my behalf but not to expect anything soon. I got a phone call from a man calling me his daughter within 10 minutes, and I wasn’t ready. It is a lot to have someone tell you that they love you and know about you, and I also don’t think I should complain. Some people in my situation would kill to get the outcome I got. I have mixed feelings; in hindsight, I should have waited.
Confide In Those You Trust — Expect Nobody To Know What To Say
When I told friends I trusted and co-workers at the time that would never meet my family, I could tell they felt bad because they didn’t know what to say to me. There isn’t a guide for this — let people fumble their words or not know what to say. I had no problem with this because I barely knew what to say, and I rarely take offense unless you are making hack terrorist jokes. I also naturally use humor to make everyone comfortable dealing with a woman who is hard to read and dry. The best take I got from anyone was from someone that has been my friend for half of my life whom I met in a summer camp — “At least you aren’t Italian, I guess?”. Why did I like this? It was a perfectly timed and delivered joke, and I needed it. She is someone that knows me incredibly well and knows that I like funny shit. This was perfect for me — no notes.
Give Your Family Some Slack
I remember immediately getting angry that my older sister was taking this hard. After all, this was my time to suffer — only I could feel bad about this. Wrong. She probably used some phrasing that she might have regretted, mainly that I did this with malicious intent. I was hungover from Thanksgiving and ordered a test expecting the joy most people get when they want to find out their results are a little exotic by 1%. Regardless, your family’s reaction is something they are entitled to have, and here’s hoping they understand. Anecdotally, I will say that I haven’t seen a lot of people say their given family excommunicated them. The challenge might be trying to convince the new challenger that appears to accept you if you want that.
Your Siblings Are Telling You The Truth
My biggest fear was that the siblings I grew up with, the only ones I knew, would look at me differently. I wouldn’t be seen as their sister after thirty years of that being all that I had known. Believe them when they tell you nothing has changed. I mean, things have changed, but they still love you. You are still you, and I am begging you to believe them. It might get a little repetitive and annoying to continue to hear that nothing has changed. Everything in your world has, but your siblings wouldn’t lie to you if you are close to them. I honestly might be reminding myself of that right now.
If this isn’t the case and you are disowned, or there are repercussions: fuck those people.
I will be self-masturbatory here and tell myself something — you are not your family’s dirty laundry.
