I Am Proud About My Heritage Essay
Every time I look in the mirror, I’m reminded of my heritage. My entire life, I’ve looked at my reflection and seen that small, square jaw, hailing from the highlands of Scotland. I’ve seen my extremely fair, pale skin, a dead giveaway for my Irish ancestry. Every day I’ve looked at the characteristic shape of my nose that I had never been able to put my finger on. For the past 18 years, I’d looked at these pieces of my lineage, knowing that I was mostly Scots-Irish, but never once thought about how they came to be. Prior to my research, I had been oblivious to the struggle, strife, and pure chance that went into creating my family’s existence in the U.S, and the strife of immigration overall. Initially, all that I knew about my heritage was the minimal amount of information I had heard in passing over the course of my life. I knew I was predominantly Scottish and Irish, with many of my ancestors having lived in the Appalachians and having kept very poor family records. The only family stories I heard told of stories about life on the farm, never going any further back than two generations. I was completely disconnected from the importance of immigration in my lineage and entire family’s existence.
I had always assumed that my Irish heritage was the result of my ancestors immigrating to the United States during the Great Potato Famine. As I researched, I was swiftly proven wrong. On my father’s side, I have my 8th great grandfather, James Lindley. He…