I recently became engrossed in a writer’s account of the search for his ethnic roots. Joe Mozingo, a white man, chronicled the reverse “Roots” saga of discovering that his original ancestor in America was black.
Mozingo tracked down several extended relatives, few of whom he had ever met or had anything in common with, and noted their often torturous explanations of the family name and history. Most had no clue what their ethnicity was, and simply guessed “Italian” if the subject ever came up (which was rare).
Of course, it’s funny to read about the contemporary Southern redneck who, far from being an emblem of racial purity, is actually the descendent of a Bantu immigrant. Wait, it’s not just funny – it’s fucking hilarious.