The other day, Rafa and I were talking about tracing our ancestry.
It wasn't a scientific conversation at all, it was just him being a dumbfuck with his annoying questions.
Rafa: *hisnicknameforMom* Are you black?
Mom: No.
Rafa: Are you white?
Mom: No.
Rafa: What would you rather be, Muslim, or Juwsh (Mom says "jewish" this way, Rafa mocks her by imitating it)
Me: She married a Jew, so I think that answers that question.
Mom: Your dad's not Jewish!
Me: Obviously he's no longer Jewish, he's a radical Christian... but at one point, his family was.
So then we started talking about National Geographic's Genographic Project.
We each went to the page and read about it... and Rafa had an idea.
Rafa: I'm going to PROVE you're black, Lady (speaking to Mom here)
Mom: No. You're not.
Rafa: I'm going to buy TWO testing kits. I'll do the Y-DNA test, and I'll have *nicknameIhate* do the mitochondrial DNA test. SHE'LL prove YOU'RE black, lady. I'll prove you married a Jewsh. I just... KNOW IN MY HEART we're black!
(Rafa went through a phase where he swore he was related to Michael Jordan. He'd also complain "MAN! WHY WASN'T I BORN BLACK?!" This was the story with him all through middle school and first two years of high school at Clark. I know deep down, he really DOES hope we have a high percentage of African ancestry, not to spite my folks, but because he really likes black people)
Our test kits come in tomorrow.
Mom's pretty upset and paranoid now.
I haven't been able to stop laughing this entire time. I just have to see the little lady so visibly perturbed before I start cracking up for a few seconds.
Me: I'm going to prove you're ASIAN, little lady.
Mom: I. AM. MEXICAN.
Me: But it was your maternal grandma who was Native American, right? Watch... I'm going to prove your family crossed the Bering Strait. Puro indio!
Entertaining few days, I tell you.
It wasn't a scientific conversation at all, it was just him being a dumbfuck with his annoying questions.
Rafa: *hisnicknameforMom* Are you black?
Mom: No.
Rafa: Are you white?
Mom: No.
Rafa: What would you rather be, Muslim, or Juwsh (Mom says "jewish" this way, Rafa mocks her by imitating it)
Me: She married a Jew, so I think that answers that question.
Mom: Your dad's not Jewish!
Me: Obviously he's no longer Jewish, he's a radical Christian... but at one point, his family was.
So then we started talking about National Geographic's Genographic Project.
We each went to the page and read about it... and Rafa had an idea.
Rafa: I'm going to PROVE you're black, Lady (speaking to Mom here)
Mom: No. You're not.
Rafa: I'm going to buy TWO testing kits. I'll do the Y-DNA test, and I'll have *nicknameIhate* do the mitochondrial DNA test. SHE'LL prove YOU'RE black, lady. I'll prove you married a Jewsh. I just... KNOW IN MY HEART we're black!
(Rafa went through a phase where he swore he was related to Michael Jordan. He'd also complain "MAN! WHY WASN'T I BORN BLACK?!" This was the story with him all through middle school and first two years of high school at Clark. I know deep down, he really DOES hope we have a high percentage of African ancestry, not to spite my folks, but because he really likes black people)
Our test kits come in tomorrow.
Mom's pretty upset and paranoid now.
I haven't been able to stop laughing this entire time. I just have to see the little lady so visibly perturbed before I start cracking up for a few seconds.
Me: I'm going to prove you're ASIAN, little lady.
Mom: I. AM. MEXICAN.
Me: But it was your maternal grandma who was Native American, right? Watch... I'm going to prove your family crossed the Bering Strait. Puro indio!
Entertaining few days, I tell you.
No comments:
Post a Comment