I don't spend a lot of time thinking about my genes because I can't do anything about them.
We can't understand when we're pregnant, or when our siblings are expecting, how profound it is to have a shared history with a younger generation: blood, genes, humor. It means we were actually here, on Earth, for a time - like the Egyptians with their pyramids, only with children.
One of the things that got me interested in genetics was the relationship between genes and environment. We are all dealt a certain deck of cards, but our environment can influence the outcomes.
The prominence given to our nation as a rainbow country has its genesis and credence in our 'Calaloo culture' of which our East Indian brothers and sisters have played a principal part.
I've been thinking about disowning some of my genes lately. I have a few healthy, happy, long-living optimists in my family tree - most of them fans of Christian Science founder Mary Baker Eddy, a major champion of positive thinking. But I've got plenty of ancestors who played out more tortured hands.
Then I found books that were written much later, as late as 15 years ago. It was very superficial material, but enough to tell me that the genesis of this story was worth exploring.
I have never been particularly picky when it comes to what I'm putting in my hair. Most of it is just the genes I'm so fortunate to have inherited from my parents.