29/04/2026
Truth be told, I never really cared much about my roots before. I used to blame them for the kind of life we had in the past. But now that I’m older, I sometimes find myself wondering who my great-great-grandparents really were.
People in our community have always labeled us as strangers just because we carry a family name unfamiliar to them. I grew up believing that we could never truly fit in—that no matter how good we were to them, they would never recognize us as part of their so-called territory. How can they call us strangers when we’ve lived here for more than three decades, and my mom is from here?
I’ve heard so many negative things about us over the years. Sometimes it made me angry, but I chose to let it pass, believing they were just envious.
Recently, I asked my grandmother about her parents, and what she told me shook me. Who would have thought that my great-great-grandparents’ surnames and middle names were the exact opposite of what the community believes us to be—strangers? Truth is, I only learned this today, after 28 years of living here.
Maybe this truth can help heal some of my past traumas. It’s just sad that I only discovered it now. I could have used this knowledge before, but I believe everything happens for a reason.
If you ever get to read this, I hope it brings clarity about where we come from.
I’m not posting this for reconciliation. I’m posting this to heal wounds that were never spoken.
I hope we all find healing.