Family History

My grandfather’s side of the family are from England. In grade school, I was asked to do a project on my family history, and I chose to write about the German side of my family, thinking my English history couldn’t be at all interesting. I was very wrong.

My great great great great grandfather was an Englishman named Peter Hales. Every day he went to work in the mines. Back then, working in mines was even more dangerous than it is today what with noxious gases and collapsing ceilings. Despite this, men would line up for the near-deadly job of drilling into the ceiling for the extra 5 cents a day. Peter’s goal was to get his family to the New World. Although he was unable to do this in his lifetime, his savings allowed his son, also named Peter, to travel to New England with his wife and infant son, who was, get this, also named Peter. When Peter II arrived in America, the revolutionary war was just starting to brew. He fought in the American Revolutionary War and was blown to bits by a canon in a naval battle, leaving his now-widowed wife to raise their son alone. Eventually, my family moved to Michigan, where they stayed for many generations until my parents moved to Chicago.

Growing up, I experienced my own troubles fitting in. When I reached the second grade and still hadn’t had my first childhood crush, my parents assumed I was “just a late bloomer”. But third, fourth, fifth, and then finally sixth grade passed and my parents finally decided to mention it to my doctor. After that, my conscious was a constant stream of what is wrong with me? and what do I do to fix myself? In eighth grade, I had my first kiss—not because I particularly wanted to, but I thought maybe if I tried I might feel something romantic for that person. I was sick to my stomach and proceeded to hurl the contents of that day’s lunch into the second stall of the girl’s bathroom. It wasn’t until I talked to my therapist freshman year that I realized that nothing was wrong. I had never heard of asexuality or aromanticism before, but the terms made me feel like less of a freak. I love romance—I love reading about it or hearing stories from my friends, but I can’t “do” it myself.

In my mind, everyone is brave in a different way. I find that bravery is a connection I can make between me and my ancestors. From taking the most dangerous position in the mines, to fighting and dying in the revolutionary war, to learning to accept myself, bravery is a common theme. I am proud to call Peter Hales my ancestor.