My Lack of Redness is Transparent asks whether visual evidence can resolve what cultural and scientific narratives often leave unanswered. Against the backdrop of commercial DNA kits promising clarity on questions of cultural belonging, I turned to blood as both a substance and a metaphor, to see if the blood itself could answer the question at face value with more honestly than DNA testing. In the gallery, a physician drew two vials of my blood, which were then diluted stepwise by a factor of four for each of seventeen generations, tracking the convergence of maternal and paternal lines back to the last fully indigenous man and woman in my ancestry. With this diluted blood, I inscribed each ancestor’s name alongside their corresponding ratio, until the redness disappeared entirely, leaving behind only clear liquid. What emerged was a record of disintegration, a visible loss of redness that mirrored a narrative of cultural distance, and spectral belonging. This object is a physical index of descent, operating as a visual grammar of removal. It provides the conceptual frame for understanding what is present even in absence. At the time of completion, the process was investigative and diagrammatic of distance, but as a durable object, it also marks a lineage to which (as an emergent expression) I still very much belong.