Finding My Irish: Why Ancestry Isn’t Just for Family Tree Nerds

Let me be the first to say it: I didn’t set out on some grand quest to discover my Irish roots. I didn’t even think of myself as the “ancestry type.” If you’d asked me a few years ago what I knew about my family’s origins, I would’ve rattled off a few vague stories about potato famines, a great-great-grandfather who liked his whiskey, and my mother’s insistence that corned beef and cabbage was “in our blood.” But if you’d pressed me for details, I’d have redirected the conversation to what’s for dinner or, more likely, what the kids did that day to make me question all of my parenting choices.

But here’s the thing about ancestry: it creeps up on you. Maybe it’s when your kids come home with a “heritage project” for school and you realize you can’t even fill out the top three lines. Maybe it’s when you start seeing redheads everywhere and wonder if there’s a secret society you’re missing out on. Or maybe it’s when you find yourself oddly emotional hearing a fiddle tune at the local Irish festival—like something in your DNA just woke up and started doing a jig.

That was me. It happened slowly, then all at once. And now, I’m here to tell you why understanding your ancestry—and embracing it—matters more than you think.

It’s More Than Shamrocks and Guinness

First off, let’s set the record straight: honoring your Irish heritage doesn’t mean you’re now contractually obligated to love Riverdance or own a flock of sheep. (Though, honestly, if you do, call me. I have questions.) For me, learning about my Irish roots wasn’t about becoming a cliché, it was about understanding why my family is the way it is. Why do we default to humor when things get tough? Why is storytelling a competitive sport at family gatherings? Why do we all secretly believe we could survive in the wild with nothing but a potato and a stubborn attitude?

Digging into Irish history, I started to see echoes of my family everywhere: the grit, the resilience, the tendency to both celebrate and grieve in a single evening. There’s something oddly comforting about realizing you come from a long line of people who have been through worse—and still managed to find the bright side (or at least a good story).

The Power of Knowing Where You Come From

Here’s the thing: In a world that feels increasingly rootless, giving your kids (and yourself) a sense of where and who you come from is a secret parenting superpower. When my boys asked why we were “so loud” or why Grandpa insists on his weird expressions, I suddenly had answers that went beyond “that’s just how we are.” There’s power in legacy—good, bad, and hilariously stubborn.

I started weaving little bits of Irish tradition into our family life—not because I felt obligated, but because it felt right. An extra prayer from St. Patrick before a big test. Trying (and spectacularly failing) to bake soda bread. Letting my kids stay up late once a year for St. Paddy’s Day and, yes, teaching them a few reels that we’ll only ever perform in the privacy of our living room.

Ancestry: It’s for the Living

I used to think ancestry was about dusty documents and old photographs. Now I realize it’s about connection. It’s about honoring the shoulders we stand on, the stories we inherit, and—this is key—passing something meaningful to our children. In a world where it’s easy to feel like everyone and everything is generic, knowing your family’s story is a way of saying: We belong to something bigger than ourselves.

So if you’re tempted to brush off your ancestry as unimportant, let me be the voice that says: Lean in. Get curious. Try the soda bread. Call your grandma. Let your DNA do a little jig. You might be surprised at what you discover—and how it changes the story you tell your own family.

And for the record? The Irish aren’t the only ones who know how to throw a good party. But I’m convinced, deep down, it’s our stories that make us strong. Sláinte!