The Cooking Gene-by
Michael Twitty, was released today and I am eagerly awaiting my copy,
which is probably sitting at my parents' house, as I write this. I feel
like I have been waiting for this book my entire life, but in reality,
it's only been less than a year. I discovered Michael Twitty by
accident, I can't even remember how anymore, but I have enjoyed his blog
posts and his tweets ever since. I feel as though we are destined to
meet in real life sometime, though when, where, or how, I know not.
I
have always been interested in both food and history and have spent a
lot of time combining them. When I was young, I loved The Frugal Gourmet
on PBS and how Jeff Smith entwined the history of a country into the
dishes he was preparing. I went to cooking school right out of high
school and spent time in the restaurant industry before realizing I
wanted to focus on writing. I left and went back to school. When I was
in college, I focused on World War II as a history major, and spent most
of my time writing about the home front and food rationing in both
Britain and the United States. They were issues that fascinated me, yet
hadn't been covered as much as the battles had. I have collected books
on food history, which aren't that plentiful, and even contemplated
writing one of my own, though I've never figured out what to focus on.
Writing
and food are very much my life still, but I have added to it. Another
element is my love of genealogy. I have always been fascinated by my
family's long-past history, probably because of my family's more-recent
history. My maternal grandparents both died very young, when my mother
was still a child. She and her siblings were always incredibly close
because of this, but because they were so young, none of them knew much
about their parents or their past. I've always felt a hole inside of me
that my grandparents left behind, and I think genealogy has helped me
fill it, somewhat.
Technology has advanced over the
years, allowing me to find out things I never would have imagined about
my past. Most of my family lines come from Canada, but one line is
American. My mother's father's line. It seemed to have originated in the
South, a place I've always thought of as "far away" and "over there,"
but never connected to me or my history. I'd never been able to trace
the line back very far for some reason and it always frustrated me. An
internet search on my maternal family's surname brought a shocking
discovery, in that it was the name of an enslaved man from Virginia. The
first of his line. But I didn't have proof beyond the name. Is that why
I couldn't trace it? Because they'd been enslaved and therefore,
unlikely to have documentation? I didn't know what to make of it. How
could a white person have had black ancestors? How is that even
possible? I lived with this information and uncertainty for a few years,
not sure what to make of it. Then DNA tests began to be available at
affordable prices, and I had my parents and father's parents take the
tests. And there it was, on my mother's test, a tiny bit of African,
which I am happy to have inherited when I took my own test and saw the
results. The proof I needed, well, more proof, at least.
As
I lived with this information, things began to hit me differently.
History that you always thought of as terrible, but not yours, felt more
personal. A place that was far off and over there, now felt closer to
me. People that I never thought I was connected to, are now connected to
me, through a shared past. Knowing you have ancestors who were enslaved
takes getting used to. Things make me angry now that I used to not even
think about, before. My white privilege glares in my face and I see how
ridiculous it is that it is granted to me, but not to everybody.
How
do you come to grips with this? Do I have the right to embrace this?
Should I ignore it all because it's not my place? Or do I have the
privilege to ignore it because it doesn't show in my skin? Ignoring it
doesn't change how your family's past played out, it just disrespects
it. Embracing the past, acknowledging it, feeling the pain, sorrow, and
the unfairness of it all, is how we honor the past, and our ancestors.
I
was in the middle of all of this when I first came across Michael
Twitty and heard about the book he was working on. It was perfect
timing, possibly kismet. Here was a man who was talking and writing
about a past and a place and a people that I had just found out I was a
part of, even if only in small part. Would I find anymore clues to my
family's past in these writings? Would I find my place in the past, and
therefore, in the present? Will this help fill the void that I have
spent my life trying to fill with family history? I don't know, but I
hope I will at least find something that I can see myself in.
I
will post again after I've read the book, and even during, if I feel
the need to. I will try some of the recipes and share my experiences
here. If you want to read along with me, click the link above and order
your own copy today! I'd love to hear what you all think of the book
too!
