As I get older, I start to wonder about my past. Not because I forget what I did yesterday (although that’s a bit hazy thanks to tequila); I mean my PAST – my genetic history going back thousands of years. Ever since DNA (more commonly known as deoxyribonucleic acid… or is it the other way around?) was isolated in 1953, it’s given us an incredible tool to do everything from trace lineage to clone steak. My curiosity might have been piqued because I live in such a racial melting pot, where discussions of nationality, race and ethnicity come up all the time. So, I decided to head over to the National Geographic Genographic Project to see what they could tell me about me.

I ordered the kit, which arrived after a few weeks. Inside were two little tubes, two swab sticks, a DVD and a bunch of maps, forms, etc, etc (I wish I would have documented this with photos, but I forgot). Thankfully, the only bit of DNA they required was a cheek scrape which I promptly sent in after choosing ‘maternal’ testing to trace my mother’s side of the family. A few weeks later, my results were posted online (with an anonymous ID number – no names are given).

There I am, third red nucleotide from the left.

There I am, third red nucleotide from the left.

There I am, third red nucleotide from the left.The description of the process is hugely complicated and makes my brain hurt, but it essentially works like this: every time a particular mutation happens within a certain level of your DNA structure, it stays that way as your DNA is passed along. If another mutation happens down the line, that, too, is passed along. In this way, by getting enough samples, they can build up a pretty accurate map tracing the migration patterns of your direct ancestors. As everyone except our religious friends knows, everyone on Earth shares a common ancestor, called Mitochondrial Eve who, while wandering around Africa about 150,000 years ago, decided it was time to settle down and have a family and ended up populating the entire planet.

The map of my ancestors' migration. In retrospect, I bet they wish they'd gone via Morocco and Spain, it would have shaved a few years off the trip. Idiots.

The map of my ancestors’ migration. In retrospect, I bet they wish they’d gone via Morocco and Spain, it would have shaved a few years off the trip. Idiots.

The map of my ancestors’ migration. In retrospect, I bet they wish they’d gone via Morocco and Spain, it would have shaved a few years off the trip.I got back a whole bunch of data online which I was able to print out – a map showing my particular migration route and a ream of paper describing exactly what that meant. I have to say I was pretty impressed with the map. As I apparently belong to ‘Haplogroup H’, you can see the red line conforming to H goes directly to western Europe and up into the UK which, as it turns out, is where my mother’s family comes from (her maiden name is MacGregor, a good Scottish name, kilts n’ all).

It was a pretty interesting experiment and neat to see the database of genetic info they’re building up. Actually, it didn’t tell me much that I didn’t already know, but it laid it all out in a nice and organized fashion. It’s just too bad that my mutations resulted in a bald head and big thighs rather than adamantium claws or the ability to teleport. Oh well.