The One Drop Rule. Pt. 3

(Please read Pt.'s 1 & 2 before reading this segment)

Perhaps, you have noticed the title of the three successive blogs in my continuing trilogy.

“The One Drop Rule”

Perhaps you’ve wondered about the implication of those four words.

The One Drop Rule refers to an archaic 19^th and 20^th century practice in many of the states of our union in which persons who possessed the ‘most miniscule molecule’ (my words) of African-American heritage were classified as ‘Black.’

Though, in the past 24 hours, I did several ‘word searches’ I have been hard pressed to find a list of states which still maintain such a law on their books; (though I understand a few still do).

In 1985, what for all the world appeared to be a Caucasian woman, when applying for a passport in Louisiana, was required to enter her racial group as ‘Negro.’ (Apparently, the passport agency had some inside knowledge relating to an ancient ancestor of the unsuspecting young lady).

However, given the results of my mother’s recent DNA test, the ‘One Drop Rule’ (as in one drop of blood) metamorphoses from theory to reality. Public to personal.

For if you have taken time to read the first two editions of this trilogy, you will have noticed that my grandmother was 3.6 percent African-American, my mother 1.8 percent and yours truly am just short of 1 percent black. 

Although I have experienced difficulty finding a current list of states which still maintain the One Drop Rule on their books, I  understand that as recently as the 7th decade of the 20th century Mississippi was one of several which did. (No one ever accused me of preferring short sentences).

And thus, the plot thickens

For you see, as a member of the United States Air Force in the early 70’s, I attended technical training in 

(drum roll)

…Mississippi

And thus, it may suddenly occur to you that had the science of DNA testing existed at that time in our history, and had the State of Mississippi been aware of the results of my mother’s genetic data, (and though my complexion is decidedly Caucasian in appearance) I would have been classified as

…African American

as would my first born son; who was delivered during the three months I was stationed there, and whose birth certificate would still bear the classification of ‘Negro.’

Since I became privy to the results of my mother’s DNA test, it seems I have experienced a virtual epiphany. ‘Til now I only thought I understood the trials and triumphs of those peoples from the Dark Continent who were taken against their will and transported in shackles to the New World. 

I think now it is a bit more ‘real’ than heretofore.

I should like to have known my immigrant African grandfather. I’m hopeful he was treated kindly, that his sufferings were few, and that before his passing he knew what it meant to live as a free man.


 By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 39. Copyright pending

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