I don’t remember when I was told about my grandmother’s father, but I always knew that he was Native American, from the Cherokee tribe. It was something that everybody just knew, but never talked about. Was it because they were ashamed of who he was and what his heritage was? I don’t know, but I never sensed it at the time.
When I grew up, I was enthralled by the idea of being descended by Native Americans. Whenever I heard about the Trail of Tears or the struggles that indigenous people have endured in the face of White domination and oppression, I felt my heart tug for them. Who knew if anyone in my family died because of this?
In the waning months of 2013, my own father died. In the months since, a lady I knew from work told me I should start doing genealogy research. I had told her about wanting to know more about my great-grandfather, so she invited me to do some research up at at the local history room of the library with her. She’d been doing genealogy for years and had come up with thousands of ancestors.
Intrigued, I went with her one day with her. I had only planned on staying for an hour so, but once I started, I couldn’t stop and when I looked up, it had been for an entire afternoon. And from that moment on, I was hooked. I wanted to know more.
Now, about 3 years and two months later, I’m starting this blog on genealogy. I want to be able to share my findings and connect with other people who are just as passionate as me about history and telling the story our people that made us who we are. Let this be the genesis of a wonderful journey.