Washington, DC — They once sent off their DNA or deoxyribonucleic acid (genetic blueprint for human development and function), with curiosity, eager to trace their roots across continents, to piece together stories buried in time.

But now, millions are scrambling to erase the digital trails of their genetic past.

The rise and fall of 23andMe, a leading American genomics and biotech firm, famed for its genetic testing services, tells a larger story: one of trust, privacy and a hard lesson in what happens when personal data becomes a commodity.

The Silicon Valley firm, once a pioneer in direct-to-consumer DNA testing, is now in bankruptcy, leaving millions of customers wondering — what happens to their most intimate data now?

Genetic gold rush turns sour

It began as a revolution. Spit in a tube, mail it off and within weeks, a genetic map lands in inboxes, linking customers to distant relatives and potential health risks.

It was personal, thrilling — at times, even life-changing. At its peak, 23andMe had 15 million customers and became a holiday gift staple. Oprah endorsed it. Hollywood eulogised it.

But privacy concerns loomed. The data wasn't just for consumers — it was valuable to pharmaceutical companies, researchers and, as a 2023 data breach revealed, even hackers.

When it was revealed that 6.9 million accounts had been compromised — names, birth years, ancestry results, even health-related genetic traits — the trust began to crack.

Now, with 23andMe filing for bankruptcy, the panic has completely set in. Customers are rushing to delete their data, wary of what could happen next.

California's Attorney General Rob Bonta is urging everyone to wipe their information, warning that it could be sold, transferred, or used in ways they never consented to.

"I remind Californians to consider invoking their rights and directing 23andMe to delete their data and destroy any samples of genetic material held by the company," he said in a statement.

On Tuesday, New York Attorney General Letitia James asked 23andMe customers in New York state to delete their accounts and secure their data.

The Wojcicki fallout

Anne Wojcicki, the company's co-founder, built 23andMe on the promise of empowerment — know your DNA, take charge of your health.

Last month, 23andMe shuttered its internal drug research group.

As financial troubles deepened, Wojcicki's bid to take the company private was rejected. She stepped down as CEO but now plans to buy it as an independent bidder.

Some see it as a last-ditch attempt to salvage the brand. Others see it as a conflict of interest, a power play that leaves customers with more questions than answers.

Once the face of a biotech revolution, Wojcicki is now tied to a company that consumers no longer trust.

Even if she succeeds in her bid, will customers return? Or is this the final chapter in the genetic testing boom?

Scramble to delete

Geoffrey Fowler, a tech columnist at The Washington Post, put it bluntly: "If you're one of the 15 million people who shared your DNA with 23andMe, it's time to delete your data."

For some, it's too late. Once data is out, it's nearly impossible to pull back entirely.

The bankruptcy filing raises even more questions: Will a new owner use the data differently? Will it end up in the hands of an unknown entity? What protections exist for consumers when a company built on genetic privacy collapses?

Customers, many of whom submitted their DNA years ago, are only now grasping the implications. Some worry about insurance companies accessing their genetic predispositions.

Others fear government or law enforcement agencies using the data in unforeseen ways. The assurances once given that the data would be secure, anonymised and used ethically now feel paper-thin.

The warnings come as America grapples with its laissez-faire approach to data protection. Unlike Europe, where strict laws govern biometric information, the US lacks nationwide privacy safeguards.

Instead, consumers must navigate a patchwork of state-level regulations, with California leading the charge. But for many, the damage is already done.

Emily Tucker, the executive director of Georgetown Law's Center on Privacy & Technology, told NBC that the sale of 23andMe should be a wake-up call for Americans about how easily their personal information can be bought and sold without their input.

"People must understand that, when they give their DNA to a corporation, they are putting their genetic privacy at the mercy of that company’s internal data policies and practices, which the company can change at any time," Tucker said.

A cautionary tale

23andMe's story is no longer just about ancestry. It's a cautionary tale of trust. People who once sought to uncover their past are now realising they might not control their own genetic future.

And as the company's stock continues to plunge and its fate hangs in the balance, one question remains: who, in the end, will own the DNA of millions?

Experts say it is about something far bigger: what it means to hand over something as personal as DNA to a corporation, and what happens when that corporation fails.

Will this be the wake-up call that forces stronger regulations? Or will it be just another headline, another cautionary tale forgotten in the next news cycle?

"This involves significant risks not only for the individual who submits their DNA, but for everyone to whom they are biologically related," Tucker added.

At the pinnacle of its glory, the firm allowed customers to download raw genetic data, selecting from 23 pairs of chromosomes to examine specific gene bases and compare variants — hence the name 23andMe.

Nineteen years later, those who once marvelled at their genetic maps are left wondering if they should have ever sent off that vial of spit at all.