Finding a Connection to My Ancestors

Finding a Connection to My Ancestors

Twentieth century America has become a time for attacking and destroying the most malignant of our social diseases. At the forefront of these attacks has been racism. Although nationalistic and bigoted sentiments existed in America prior to the founding of Jamestown, it was not until the civil rights movement of the 1960's that racial equality became more of a reality than a dream. But as African-Americans, Hispanics, Asians and other people of color struggled to regain their cultural identity, the rest of the population was assimilated into an all inclusive racial category known as "white."

At some point in my life, I realized that the "white" race actually encompasses a great many distinct, and proud, nationalities. Included in these, was my own: Franco-American. I have never been able to understand why a people as culturally unique and historically significant as the Franco-Americans were deemed unworthy of their own racial grouping. The mere fact that they possess a skin tone less pigmented than other races should not force them into anonymity. It was this desire to distinguish myself from the millions of other "white" Americans that led me to the American Canadian Genealogical Society (ACGS) in search of my family roots. What I discovered was a connection to my past that spanned an ocean, two continents, and more than three hundred years.

I arrived at the ACGS eager to begin my search. Unfortunately, I was utterly perplexed as to where to begin. Sensing my dilemma, an elderly gentleman approached me, and asked, "What is the name? The one you are looking for?" His thick accent took me by surprise.

"Well," I said, "I think I'd like to start with Lacasse. That was my grandmother's...

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...lized." Alice had a daughter, my mother, Elaine, who completed her high school and even graduated from college. Elaine hoped, just as countless generations before her had, to achieve a better life. When Elaine's husband walked out on her and her six children, she feared that her hope would not be realized. But she was wrong. She raised her children well and sent every one off to college, each bearing the hopes of a better life. And now that it is my turn, I have more reason than ever to seek out the best education I can.

I have found my connection to my ancestors. It is neither language, nor country, nor family title. For more than three centuries, my predecessors have been striving, yearning, and devoting their lives in the hope of achieving something better for themselves and for future generations. To this day, it has not been realized. I plan to rectify that.