Threads of Connection: How Our Shared Heritage Inspires Inclusive Beauty

As the founder of Eumel, I’ve always believed in communicating one simple truth: the universality of being human. Recently, a deeply personal experience reminded me why that mission matters more than ever.

After losing my father, I decided to take a DNA test to understand my ancestry— a small act of connection to him and the history he carried. For most of my life, I believed my roots were firmly planted in Ghana. My family stories, traditions, and values all began there. I knew my paternal grandmother was of mixed heritage, but no one knew where that “other part” came from. Given Ghana’s colonial past, I assumed it might be English, Scottish, Dutch, or Portuguese.

Then I did the test.
And the results surprised me.

Alongside my Ghanaian and Nigerian ancestry was a thread from Eastern Europe — specifically, Russia. It felt unexpected, even strange at first, yet somehow familiar. Russia? How could that be part of my story? But as I sat with it, small mysteries began to make sense: certain phenotypic features in my family that never quite fit the boxes people tried to place us in. My deep love for Russian art, literature, and music — Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky, Dostoevsky — all the things that had captivated me since my early twenties. Suddenly, these lifelong fascinations didn’t seem so accidental.

When I told my seven-year-old son, he was thrilled. For days, he told everyone he met, “My mother is part Russian!” His innocence struck me deeply. To him, this discovery wasn’t about confusion — it was about connection.

Months later, while giving a lecture about the false science of race, I shared my story. Afterward, a colleague — a fellow physician who looked of European descent — approached me. Smiling, he said, “I did my DNA test too. I’m Scottish and Togolese.”
We both laughed — not because it was funny, but because something clicked. Two people from seemingly different worlds, each discovering unexpected ancestry. In that moment, we were reminded that we are far more intertwined than we realize. Race-based divisions, or differences based on skin colour, are social constructs — not science. What science reveals is our shared humanity.

In a world that often draws lines between people, experiences like these remind me how deeply connected we truly are. Our identities aren’t confined to maps or labels; they are living stories shaped by migration, love, resilience, and chance. Every one of us carries histories that cross borders and skin tones — even when we don’t know it.

I’ve come to see that being Ghanaian, Nigerian, and a little bit Russian aren’t contradictions. They’re layers of one story — my story — and proof that we are all more alike than different.

So now, when people ask about my heritage, I tell them with a smile:
“I’m Ghanaian, Nigerian, and a little bit Russian — proof that the world is smaller than we think.”

Maybe stories like mine can remind us that identity isn’t about separation or defined groups. It’s about connection — the invisible threads that bind us together as humans.

Just like my own story, the science of eumelanin (the main pigment that determines human skin colour) teaches us that there’s more that unites us than divides us. Every person carries a unique blend of heritage and biology — and that’s something to celebrate, not separate.

At Eumel, we honour that beautiful complexity by creating products that serve every individual’s needs, regardless of skin tone or hair texture. Because beauty isn’t one thing — it’s many things. And it’s shared.

Together, we are part of a global family — connected through invisible threads of ancestry, pigment, and humanity.

That’s a story worth sharing!

Author’s Note:
I share this deeply personal story not to surprise, but to remind us that identity is not a boundary — it’s a bridge. Each of us carries hidden histories that connect us in ways we may never fully see — proof that humanity has always been, and will always be, one family.

Reflections for the Reader: When you see someone for the first time, what shapes your assumptions about who they are — and what might change if we looked a little deeper?