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All the Colors We Will See: Reflections on Barriers, Brokenness, and Finding Our Way
“With this exquisitely composed [essay collection], Patrice Gopo sets herself apart as one of the most promising and talented writers of faith of our time. All the Colors We Will See is evocative, compelling, surprising, and brave. Gopo has a special talent for weaving her story into the narratives of Scripture and for guiding the reader through some of the difficult realities of race, immigration, and identity in America with wisdom and grace. It’s rare to encounter a book that manages to be this honest and this generous with its readers at the same time. Every page, every sentence, is a gift!” —Rachel Held Evans, author, Searching for Sunday and Inspired Patrice Gopo grew up in Anchorage, Alaska, the child of Jamaican immigrants who had little experience being black in America. From her white Sunday school classes as a child, to her early days of marriage in South Africa, to a new home in the American South with a husband from another land, Patrice’s life is a testament to the challenges and beauty of the world we each live in, a world in which cultures overlap every day. In All the Colors We Will See , Patrice seamlessly moves across borders of space and time to create vivid portraits of how the reality of being different affects her quest to belong. In this poetic and often courageous collection of essays, Patrice examines the complexities of identity in our turbulent yet hopeful time of intersecting heritages. As she digs beneath the layers of immigration questions and race relations, Patrice also turns her voice to themes such as marriage and divorce, the societal beauty standards we hold, and the intricacies of living out our faith. With an eloquence born of pain and longing, Patrice’s reflections guide us as we consider our own journeys toward belonging, challenging us to wonder if the very differences dividing us might bring us together after all. Praise for All the Colors We Will See “What I find so very moving about this book is that its calm voice and winsome demeanor allow it to speak hard truths. Ms. Gopo is a writer both thoughtful and bold, deliberate and graceful, compassionate and rock solid. This is a wise and ruminative book on color, marriage, the church, and what it takes to continue in Christ’s love despite the fallen and falling world around us.” — Bret Lott, author, Letters and Life and Jewel “As a white woman who grew up in South Africa, I’m so grateful to Patrice, a black woman who grew up in Alaska, for opening the pages of her life. My story is changed and challenged and enriched because of hers. And I am in her debt.” — Lisa-Jo Baker, bestselling author of Never Unfriended and Surprised by Motherhood “In the chasm between race and culture lies Patrice Gopo’s heartfelt collection of essays. All the Colors We Will See is an interrogation of blackness and belonging from a woman who is as much Alaskan as she is Jamaican, Asian as she is Southern, engineer as she is writer, faithful as she is doubting. As she searches “for something that is lost before we can even remember,” Gopo arrives at the intersection of God, race, and country to realize that the only robes that fit are her own.”— Desiree Cooper, Next Generation Indie Book Award winner and author, Know the Mother
256 pages, Paperback
Published August 7, 2018
60 people are currently reading
1147 people want to read
About the author
Patrice Gopo
6 books85 followersPatrice Gopo is an award-winning writer who crafts stories steeped in themes of place, belonging, and home. Her essay collections include AUTUMN SONG, recipient of the inaugural Pattis Family Foundation Creative Arts Book Award, and ALL THE COLORS WE WILL SEE, a Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers selection. Her picture books include ALL THE PLACES WE CALL HOME and RIPENING TIME, both inspired by several of her essays. When she’s not writing, Patrice hosts the podcast 'Picture Books Are for Grown-Ups Too!' because she believes in the power of stories to help build connections between people. Patrice lives with her family in North Carolina, where she enjoys walks just after dawn and thinks a perfect day ends with ice cream. Please visit www.patricegopo.com to learn more.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 114 reviews
January 26, 2019
Stunning. Gorgeous. Soul-stirring. There is something so important in reading and taking part in someone’s experience that is different from my own. I know I don’t do it often enough, and that’s something I want to change. I never want to assume that I know how someone feels. Patrice Gopo invites readers into her life with grace and eloquence. In sharing her story, I found both new viewpoints and that there are both nods of understanding and nods of acknowledgment, if that makes sense. You don’t have to had shared this same experience in order to give it validity. A favorite read of 2019 for sure.
October 25, 2018
Thoughtful, insightful, brave. This nonfiction essay collection is beautifully written in a way that makes me feel like I'm right there with Patrice as these stories are unfolding. This book was challenging but never preachy, powerful without being demanding. I highly recommend it. I will probably read it again.
October 10, 2018
I have just finished this beautiful book of essays that was written by a beautiful person whom I was privileged to teach in a one-week workshop at a summer conference. It was clear to me from the essay she submitted to the workshop in advance and from the one she wrote while she was there, which she soon read on NPR, that she was a gifted writer, one who crafted sentences with care and wrote about important things. And yet I was unprepared for the power of this book, which speaks candidly of things we try to avoid, what it is like to feel other, what it is like to try to belong, what it is like become oneself in an environment that often refutes your sense of yourself. This is not just a very good book, it is an important one that everyone should read. Now more than ever. The universal resides in the particular. I will never know exactly—except as I read Patrice's account—what it was like to grow up black in Alaska. Nor will she ever know what it was to grow up as a poor white in a volatile household in the Calumet Region of Indiana—except as I write about it. This is why we write books; this is why we read them. This is how we overcome the barriers and the brokenness. This is how we find our way. I cannot recommend this brave and tender book highly enough.
September 15, 2018
Patrice captured me with her literary prowess. Her word choices kept me reading, eager to feel touched by her phrasing. I also caught myself saddened then enlightened as she shared her life with me in snippets of essays that speak so universally to us all. It wasn't about a Jamaican woman growing up in Alaska and moving to Cape Town then the American South. It was about every woman, faced with differences, feeling change, losing sense of self for a while and then suddenly finding a sliver of herself once again. Growth. Realizing she's not alone after feeling thoroughly forgotten. How our differences can be the very things that draw us together. . . because we all have differences. Well done.
November 5, 2018
Conversations about the laws that govern chemistry might be one of the most spiritual things going on this week at my dining room table. Homeschooling chemistry involves revisiting the Periodic Table of Elements with its jagged line separating the metals and the non-metals and the tiny numbers that define and describe unseen properties of pure substances, and for me this is pure joy. Chemistry’s Law of Definite Proportions that I’ve been unknowingly applying to my pancake recipe all these years points to a God who is not only a Creator but also a Designer. The fact that a highly reactive metal and a poisonous gas, when combined in the correct proportions, can be sprinkled on my hamburger to heighten its flavor is a joyful lesson in the unexpected, but then, the laws of science serve to heighten our awareness of the exceptions to the rules and the unpredictability that leaves room for the unknown.
In All the Colors We Will See: Reflections on Barriers, Brokenness, and Finding Our Way, Patrice Gopo declares herself to be a combination of elements, unique and unpredictable–more evidence that “elements that hold certain properties in isolation. . . together yield something perhaps less obvious.” (26) Her story points to the beauty that is inherent in unexpected combinations of geography, ethnicity, and culture. As a woman with a unique mingling of genes from the Asian and the African continents, as a black Jamaican American who grew up in Alaska, she struggled to land in a known space, and her writing is a travelogue in which Gopo finds peace in living with and learning to love her “unpredictable unknown.”
Through a collection of essays, the reader realizes that it is possible to find home in far off places, and that our differences actually lend us a point of commonality, a gift to celebrate, and a reason to come together. It is through loving our own people, through speaking the language of our heart, through cherishing the unique beauty that our genes produce, through embracing that heritage, and accepting our own way of being in the world that we begin to see our “differences” as an offering to the world–not a barrier from the world.
Speaking a Different Language
What is the “ideal” way to raise a child in a multi-lingual home? Patrice and her husband Nyasha both speak English, and his Zimbabwean Shona is more a cultural memory than a heart language. Even so, they have honored its presence in their family by dipping their brush into its palette to name their daughters. They are learning as a family to count to ten in Shona, and have resisted the Americanized pronunciation [plan-tayn’] of Patrice’s delicious Jamaican plantains [plan’-tins]. There is room in their home for the conflation of all the various cultures and practices that are part of their family’s heritage.
Cherishing a Different Beauty
Giving up her routine of hair relaxing chemicals and returning to her natural hair texture, Patrice discovered strength that came as a complete surprise. She weaves foundational wisdom behind her choice throughout a number of her essays, calling readers to attention regarding the prevailing views of beauty that idealize very specific white traits.
Learning to style and manage her daughters’ hair has heightened the importance of Patrice’s understanding of her own feelings about beauty, and you can read her essay on acquiring both skill and confidence over at SheLoves Magazine.
Embracing a Different Heritage
When Patrice arrived at Carnegie Mellon University to study engineering, she also received free and immersive tutoring in Black American culture with details that just were not part of her upbringing by two Jamaican immigrant parents with Indian ancestry. Her identity process has been one of claiming all the parts, living under the weight of all the varied stories, accepting the unknown chapters of the those stories, and living the sum total with congruence before her children.
As a black family worshiping in a mostly white congregation, Patrice offers thoughtful commentary on the tension between Paul’s declaration that in Christ “there is neither Jew nor Gentile” and the Sunday morning tightrope walk of parsing her sentences, avoiding offense, and dodging sensitive topics. While reaching out to her white sisters one at a time, she shares that “sometimes only a person who looks like me can understand certain things about me. Like what it feels like to walk into a room and consistently be the only person of my race.” (191)
Beloved Differences Bring Us Together in HopeAccepting a Different Way of Being in the World
Selfless serving has become a counter-cultural pursuit, so when Patrice announced that she was “giving the year after college to God,” there were some raised eyebrows and concern among family and friends. She ended up in a far off land . . . washing silverware to the glory of God.
Returning to the United States to begin her career in engineering, she eventually moved on to community development, and she shares her conflicted journey of leaving a career that sorely lacks black female role models. Almost surprised to find herself a writer, her voice is raised in the pursuit of problem solving and justice.
Patrice Gopo joins Deidra Riggs in the choir of women who are singing “God Bless the Whole World” in a minor key. With writing that carries depth of emotion and clarity of expression, they remind white mothers like myself that our sons need not fear the fate of Philando Castile or Alton Sterling, and they offer words to bridge the empathy gap. Looking squarely at tragedy, Patrice acknowledges that we live in the space between what is and what will someday be while praying for God-initiated transformation leading to oneness in heart and in mind.
Even as a seasoned under-liner-of-sentences-in-preparation-for-a-thorough-book-review-to-be-written-very-soon, I found myself gulping down this collection of essays with my pen idle in my hand, forgetting to read like a reviewer, and just reading for the experience, because each of us is a collection of stories. We forget this at our peril, for the unfolding of a story implies hope and possibility at every stage of life:
“You press forth into the unknown,
and the other side, the reality of
the other side, pierces your heart in a way
that reminds you of your humanness,
of your possibilities, of your very life.”
Patrice Gopo, All the Colors We Will See
Many thanks to Thomas Nelson for providing a copy of this book to facilitate my review, which, of course, is offered freely and with honesty.
In All the Colors We Will See: Reflections on Barriers, Brokenness, and Finding Our Way, Patrice Gopo declares herself to be a combination of elements, unique and unpredictable–more evidence that “elements that hold certain properties in isolation. . . together yield something perhaps less obvious.” (26) Her story points to the beauty that is inherent in unexpected combinations of geography, ethnicity, and culture. As a woman with a unique mingling of genes from the Asian and the African continents, as a black Jamaican American who grew up in Alaska, she struggled to land in a known space, and her writing is a travelogue in which Gopo finds peace in living with and learning to love her “unpredictable unknown.”
Through a collection of essays, the reader realizes that it is possible to find home in far off places, and that our differences actually lend us a point of commonality, a gift to celebrate, and a reason to come together. It is through loving our own people, through speaking the language of our heart, through cherishing the unique beauty that our genes produce, through embracing that heritage, and accepting our own way of being in the world that we begin to see our “differences” as an offering to the world–not a barrier from the world.
Speaking a Different Language
What is the “ideal” way to raise a child in a multi-lingual home? Patrice and her husband Nyasha both speak English, and his Zimbabwean Shona is more a cultural memory than a heart language. Even so, they have honored its presence in their family by dipping their brush into its palette to name their daughters. They are learning as a family to count to ten in Shona, and have resisted the Americanized pronunciation [plan-tayn’] of Patrice’s delicious Jamaican plantains [plan’-tins]. There is room in their home for the conflation of all the various cultures and practices that are part of their family’s heritage.
Cherishing a Different Beauty
Giving up her routine of hair relaxing chemicals and returning to her natural hair texture, Patrice discovered strength that came as a complete surprise. She weaves foundational wisdom behind her choice throughout a number of her essays, calling readers to attention regarding the prevailing views of beauty that idealize very specific white traits.
Learning to style and manage her daughters’ hair has heightened the importance of Patrice’s understanding of her own feelings about beauty, and you can read her essay on acquiring both skill and confidence over at SheLoves Magazine.
Embracing a Different Heritage
When Patrice arrived at Carnegie Mellon University to study engineering, she also received free and immersive tutoring in Black American culture with details that just were not part of her upbringing by two Jamaican immigrant parents with Indian ancestry. Her identity process has been one of claiming all the parts, living under the weight of all the varied stories, accepting the unknown chapters of the those stories, and living the sum total with congruence before her children.
As a black family worshiping in a mostly white congregation, Patrice offers thoughtful commentary on the tension between Paul’s declaration that in Christ “there is neither Jew nor Gentile” and the Sunday morning tightrope walk of parsing her sentences, avoiding offense, and dodging sensitive topics. While reaching out to her white sisters one at a time, she shares that “sometimes only a person who looks like me can understand certain things about me. Like what it feels like to walk into a room and consistently be the only person of my race.” (191)
Beloved Differences Bring Us Together in HopeAccepting a Different Way of Being in the World
Selfless serving has become a counter-cultural pursuit, so when Patrice announced that she was “giving the year after college to God,” there were some raised eyebrows and concern among family and friends. She ended up in a far off land . . . washing silverware to the glory of God.
Returning to the United States to begin her career in engineering, she eventually moved on to community development, and she shares her conflicted journey of leaving a career that sorely lacks black female role models. Almost surprised to find herself a writer, her voice is raised in the pursuit of problem solving and justice.
Patrice Gopo joins Deidra Riggs in the choir of women who are singing “God Bless the Whole World” in a minor key. With writing that carries depth of emotion and clarity of expression, they remind white mothers like myself that our sons need not fear the fate of Philando Castile or Alton Sterling, and they offer words to bridge the empathy gap. Looking squarely at tragedy, Patrice acknowledges that we live in the space between what is and what will someday be while praying for God-initiated transformation leading to oneness in heart and in mind.
Even as a seasoned under-liner-of-sentences-in-preparation-for-a-thorough-book-review-to-be-written-very-soon, I found myself gulping down this collection of essays with my pen idle in my hand, forgetting to read like a reviewer, and just reading for the experience, because each of us is a collection of stories. We forget this at our peril, for the unfolding of a story implies hope and possibility at every stage of life:
“You press forth into the unknown,
and the other side, the reality of
the other side, pierces your heart in a way
that reminds you of your humanness,
of your possibilities, of your very life.”
Patrice Gopo, All the Colors We Will See
Many thanks to Thomas Nelson for providing a copy of this book to facilitate my review, which, of course, is offered freely and with honesty.
April 19, 2020
This is another book I read about a year ago and forgot to review here. I didn't find it quite as engrossing as I had hoped, but it was still interesting. I think I expected more of an overarching memoir, but it's really a collection of different essays (which I think it says clearly is what it is, I just hadn't realized it).
The author's background is fascinating - she grew up in Alaska, but her parents were immigrants from Jamaica. Then she got married and moved to South Africa, before eventually moving to the American South. I loved hearing about the juxtapositions of the various cultures that surrounded her, and how this influenced her life, her understanding of herself, and her beliefs. She also shares some about her own spiritual journey and beliefs. As other reviewers have said, it's a quiet book, but definitely worth a read.
The author's background is fascinating - she grew up in Alaska, but her parents were immigrants from Jamaica. Then she got married and moved to South Africa, before eventually moving to the American South. I loved hearing about the juxtapositions of the various cultures that surrounded her, and how this influenced her life, her understanding of herself, and her beliefs. She also shares some about her own spiritual journey and beliefs. As other reviewers have said, it's a quiet book, but definitely worth a read.
May 22, 2020
“Reflections on barriers, brokenness, and finding our way,” I read, as I picked up this book at McKay’s a while back, and something in me stirred. I am so thankful for whatever that inkling was, because this book has been one of the best accidental bookstore finds. Gopo weaves words and stories like poetry, wields truth and grace masterfully. Her book is a rare and beautiful thing- I have so much to learn from this woman, as a writer, a Christian, a human being. Thank you, Patrice, for doing the hard work of leaning into the longing and sharing your perspective with the world. We are richer because of it.
December 9, 2020
Patrice Gopo has a way of spinning even the most banal details of daily life into poetic and thoughtful reveries that capture the essence of family and the search for belonging. Because isn’t it really these quotidian moments that define us? Life is not about highlight reels and a flawless social feed. It must be lived second by second - sometimes endured and sometimes cherished.
June 10, 2020
This is a beautiful collection of short essays and an impressive debut by Gopo. She deals with hard questions of race and identity and belonging. I so appreciate Gopo's unique perspective and her willingness to explore her own history and racial identity in these pages.
My only critique is that the separate essays didn't always connect or flow well. They were a bit choppy and it was sometimes confusing to follow the arc of her life from the past to the present and back again.
Still, Patrice is a wonderful writer and I think this is an especially timely book as we collectively consider what it means to be black in America and Gopo asks those same questions of herself.
My only critique is that the separate essays didn't always connect or flow well. They were a bit choppy and it was sometimes confusing to follow the arc of her life from the past to the present and back again.
Still, Patrice is a wonderful writer and I think this is an especially timely book as we collectively consider what it means to be black in America and Gopo asks those same questions of herself.
July 23, 2020
This book was recommended by a friend of the author is a list of books to read about understanding race in America. It is a memoir by a woman born to Jamaican immigrants and raised in Alaska. I knew there had to be a story there! It took me a little bit to get into it because it is really written as essays that go back and forth in time in her life. Once I got used to that format, it sucked me in. The writing is beautiful and the back and forth in time makes sense as that is often how memories work. Something in the present reminds you of a past story or event.
November 21, 2019
I expected to learn something from a new-to-me voice. I did not expect the way she inspired me to look at my own life. I love the systematic way she approached her life story, all the ways she is stepping into the way her life looks now and sharing the unanswered questions about where she is headed. Beyond that, her writing is beautiful and soul-stirring. One of my favorite books of 2019 for sure. Glad I found this book when I did, it's an excellent read.
February 1, 2019
It took me a while to read this, but it was worth it. Interesting and surprising reflections on faith, race, ethnicity, marriage etc. I resonated with her on being mixed race and not fully belonging to either, but feeling a little richer for having parts of both. I also liked the part where she struggles to find community in her mostly white church. Probably the best essay in the book was “degrees of blackness”. Very insightful and self-aware.
August 8, 2019
Beautiful prose and thoughtful conversation about what is home and all the ways that we find our way back to home in places that don't feel this way.
January 18, 2020
“Dry leaves crumbled beneath my feet, but the bright lawn called me to believe in miracles and comebacks and surprises. With the trees ablaze with fierce colors, framed by a dimming sky, I grasped a flash of glory, where the unexpected bursts forth and life pierces death. These were the moments I longed for, the single incidences that accumulate over a lifetime and speak of the world as it could be.” p. 214 “An Abundance of Impossible Things”
With a candor and eloquence all her own, Patrice Gopo writes about the particulars that make up her life’s experience. She expresses what it is be her with a hospitality that is genuine, yet doesn’t shy away from hard truths. I’m filled with gratitude for the way she has shared with me through these essays.
Highly recommend to everyone everywhere!
With a candor and eloquence all her own, Patrice Gopo writes about the particulars that make up her life’s experience. She expresses what it is be her with a hospitality that is genuine, yet doesn’t shy away from hard truths. I’m filled with gratitude for the way she has shared with me through these essays.
Highly recommend to everyone everywhere!
November 29, 2020
Such a lovely book with beautiful prose that was so well-done. I found the book enlightening, convicting, poetic, and such a wonderful read.
April 24, 2019
Beautiful words to live and learn by. Patrice’s talent for paying attention along her unique path in life reveals ways we can all experience growth within our own journeys to understand our world.
August 2, 2018
This stunning collection of essays about identity and culture drew me in and has become one of my favorite reads of the year. Patrice Gopo grapples with the big ideas of raising multicultural children, finding her own place in American culture, and reflecting on her role as a mathematician-turned-writer. And yet, she invites me into this conversation beautifully. Her own reflections helped me dig into my own labels and identity and how those impact my worldview.
**I received a review copy of this book. All opinions are my own.**
**I received a review copy of this book. All opinions are my own.**
October 8, 2018
As a "white" person, there is so much that "I don't know I don't know" about being a person of color in this world. With this collection of essays, Patrice Gopo has shed a little light on that dark space of ignorance in my life, and she has done it with grace, gentleness, and humor. Patrice is the daughter of Jamaican immigrants (with two grandfathers who are Indian) who grew up in Alaska, went to college in Pittsburgh, lived in Rochester, travelled the world, and settled in Charlotte, NC with her husband and two daughters. Her essays explore the many labels we give people and how they affect our perceptions of each other, especially the labels "black" and "immigrant."
One of the early essays, "Caught in the year of O.J. Simpson and Huckleberry Finn" took me back to my junior year of high school, one year into public school desegregation in Charlotte when my class read "Uncle Tom's Cabin." Some twenty years later, Patrice read "Huckleberry Finn" in high school as one of the few black students in that Alaskan school. She writes, "I remember Jim, the slave. I remember my brown skin wedged in the room of white faces. According to the frayed pages of Huckleberry Finn Jim was the same color as me. I interpreted my classmates' curious stares to mean that when they read about Jim, they must be thinking about me."
I remember the extreme discomfort of reading Uncle Tom's Cabin in a class with half a dozen black kids, one of whom was a friend, a quiet and studious girl like me. When we talked about the book in class, enormous differences in the way we perceived the book and the main character unfolded and I had an ugly revelation about my own biases and my blindness toward racial issues. To this day, I can remember the flood of embarrassment I felt during that book discussion. Again and again through these essays, it becomes apparent that I still have big blind spots about race and how easy it is for me, as a "white" person to live my life being comfortable with the blind spots and oblivious to how they impact other people.
This is a book of beautiful words, phrases and images, a book of poignant personal memories, a book of profound insights about faith and life, a book of challenges and questions. I highly recommend it.
One of the early essays, "Caught in the year of O.J. Simpson and Huckleberry Finn" took me back to my junior year of high school, one year into public school desegregation in Charlotte when my class read "Uncle Tom's Cabin." Some twenty years later, Patrice read "Huckleberry Finn" in high school as one of the few black students in that Alaskan school. She writes, "I remember Jim, the slave. I remember my brown skin wedged in the room of white faces. According to the frayed pages of Huckleberry Finn Jim was the same color as me. I interpreted my classmates' curious stares to mean that when they read about Jim, they must be thinking about me."
I remember the extreme discomfort of reading Uncle Tom's Cabin in a class with half a dozen black kids, one of whom was a friend, a quiet and studious girl like me. When we talked about the book in class, enormous differences in the way we perceived the book and the main character unfolded and I had an ugly revelation about my own biases and my blindness toward racial issues. To this day, I can remember the flood of embarrassment I felt during that book discussion. Again and again through these essays, it becomes apparent that I still have big blind spots about race and how easy it is for me, as a "white" person to live my life being comfortable with the blind spots and oblivious to how they impact other people.
This is a book of beautiful words, phrases and images, a book of poignant personal memories, a book of profound insights about faith and life, a book of challenges and questions. I highly recommend it.
October 25, 2018
This is a beautiful book and one that should be read slowly so that you can fully absorb all the feeling in her words. I got it from the library and when I finished it, I immediately bought a copy for myself. I will definitely read it again and plan to hear her speak in Charlotte in mid November. It is an in depth exploration of being Black as a race and ethnicity. She describes herself as a black woman, a black American, a black Jamaican American who has Indian ancestry. Her experiences are diverse and she is constantly seeking belonging, friendship, acceptance. One of my favorite books this year.
February 17, 2023
We all flounder with our identities and where we fit in, no matter who or what nationality you are. No one can truly understand the other until we actually walk in their shoes….it’s a shame really, because then we would all be so much more sensitive.
May 15, 2018
An essay collection that functions as an autobiography. Beautifully written descriptions of life experiences in a range of settings. Highly recommended.
January 13, 2019
Phenomenal writer, beautiful book.
November 3, 2022
We read this for Hopwood book club and it is an interesting set of essays by a person who has a very unique story. Good, not great.
December 2, 2022
4 1/2 stars. This is a wonderful collection of essays--thoughtful and full of faith and love.
October 3, 2018
In All the Colors We Will See: Reflections on Barriers, Brokenness, and Finding Our Way, Patrice Gopo explores her experience of race throughout various points in her life. These experiences have been shaped by a number of factors and in a number of locales.
Gopo was born in Jamaica, grew up in Alaska, lived in Cape Town where she met her husband, then in Charlotte, North Carolina where she raises her family. She has two grandparents from India. She was among 5% of black students in attendance at Carnegie Mellon University during her time there. She has been told her hair looks more professional when relaxed and straightened (meaning not worn naturally).
I imagine many people of color can relate to these stories and many white people need to hear them.
Gopo’s writing is beautiful and matter-of-fact. It comes across with ease, which almost certainly means she has taken the time to hone her craft because writing is not easy.
Her chapter about hair — it’s different types and textures — is a mindful exploration of society’s expectations for how hair should look, what is beautiful, what is unkempt and what is professional. This made me wonder if hair has so much expectation tied to it, what does that mean for the rest of our existence?
Perhaps the most prevalent theme in the book is about belonging. Gopo looks at the ways she may be seen as an outsider or something “other.” She is the only black student in her class at school in Alaska, which leads her to be singled out for questions about race. She doesn’t feel she fits in with her family members in Jamaica because of her accent and inability to understand some of the local dialect. She recognizes that she is an anomaly in her university graduation class as a black woman in engineering. She questions, years after the fact, what it meant when a friend said, “I don’t see you as black.” She describes with rawness what she felt when she first encountered a confederate flag.
I highly recommend this book. I think people of color will be able to relate and see themselves in Gopo’s stories, and I think white people need to hear more stories from people of color. We have a responsibility to learn how word choices contribute to racism, how simple exchanges can have greater impact than we realize. And I think all of us, of all colors, need to move to a state of belonging and understanding. All the Colors We Will See is an easy entry point to this conversation.
Disclaimer: I received an advance-read copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
Gopo was born in Jamaica, grew up in Alaska, lived in Cape Town where she met her husband, then in Charlotte, North Carolina where she raises her family. She has two grandparents from India. She was among 5% of black students in attendance at Carnegie Mellon University during her time there. She has been told her hair looks more professional when relaxed and straightened (meaning not worn naturally).
I imagine many people of color can relate to these stories and many white people need to hear them.
Gopo’s writing is beautiful and matter-of-fact. It comes across with ease, which almost certainly means she has taken the time to hone her craft because writing is not easy.
Her chapter about hair — it’s different types and textures — is a mindful exploration of society’s expectations for how hair should look, what is beautiful, what is unkempt and what is professional. This made me wonder if hair has so much expectation tied to it, what does that mean for the rest of our existence?
Perhaps the most prevalent theme in the book is about belonging. Gopo looks at the ways she may be seen as an outsider or something “other.” She is the only black student in her class at school in Alaska, which leads her to be singled out for questions about race. She doesn’t feel she fits in with her family members in Jamaica because of her accent and inability to understand some of the local dialect. She recognizes that she is an anomaly in her university graduation class as a black woman in engineering. She questions, years after the fact, what it meant when a friend said, “I don’t see you as black.” She describes with rawness what she felt when she first encountered a confederate flag.
I highly recommend this book. I think people of color will be able to relate and see themselves in Gopo’s stories, and I think white people need to hear more stories from people of color. We have a responsibility to learn how word choices contribute to racism, how simple exchanges can have greater impact than we realize. And I think all of us, of all colors, need to move to a state of belonging and understanding. All the Colors We Will See is an easy entry point to this conversation.
Disclaimer: I received an advance-read copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
December 14, 2018
First off, Patrice Gopo has a beautiful way of writing. Her imagery and and phrases are exemplary.
Her book is a collection of essays. They are thoughtful, beautiful, and graceful. But they are also rock solid and full of hard truths. It's the juxtaposition of those two things that I find beautiful. I am white. I have no idea how a person of another race or another color feel. I will never know. All I can try to do is understand and try to make myself a better person to help those that are be afflicted. While reading this essay collection, and also while reading the book "Dear America", I disagreed with some things. More so in the latter than the former. But the more I read this book and tried my best to put myself in her shoes, I agreed more with what she was saying. Words spoken about the south and the confederate flag spoke home because that's where I live. God loves everyone. God created everyone. Why can't we love everyone? No matter what color they are. We as Christian's are called to love all. But we don't. Especially with racial tensions being more pronounced with the social media age we live in, why can't we see that we are part of the problem too? Imagine if during the 60's there was social media. So much racism happened then that we were never aware of. We speak of love, but do we feel that when a dark skinned tattooed man walks into your store? Is our first thought, "I need to watch this man" or walking up and asking if he needs some help finding anything? I have work to do on myself.
The reason for 4 stars and not 5 was due to that even though these were essays and not meant to be read as a cohesive "story", the individual essays themselves were a little to sporadic. It would jump from one thing to another with no segue. Also, while telling her stories, she would use the word "you" in them like you were there. As if you were a part of the story. But we weren't. I understand that she was trying to put us there, but it was done too often with no effect.
Her book is a collection of essays. They are thoughtful, beautiful, and graceful. But they are also rock solid and full of hard truths. It's the juxtaposition of those two things that I find beautiful. I am white. I have no idea how a person of another race or another color feel. I will never know. All I can try to do is understand and try to make myself a better person to help those that are be afflicted. While reading this essay collection, and also while reading the book "Dear America", I disagreed with some things. More so in the latter than the former. But the more I read this book and tried my best to put myself in her shoes, I agreed more with what she was saying. Words spoken about the south and the confederate flag spoke home because that's where I live. God loves everyone. God created everyone. Why can't we love everyone? No matter what color they are. We as Christian's are called to love all. But we don't. Especially with racial tensions being more pronounced with the social media age we live in, why can't we see that we are part of the problem too? Imagine if during the 60's there was social media. So much racism happened then that we were never aware of. We speak of love, but do we feel that when a dark skinned tattooed man walks into your store? Is our first thought, "I need to watch this man" or walking up and asking if he needs some help finding anything? I have work to do on myself.
The reason for 4 stars and not 5 was due to that even though these were essays and not meant to be read as a cohesive "story", the individual essays themselves were a little to sporadic. It would jump from one thing to another with no segue. Also, while telling her stories, she would use the word "you" in them like you were there. As if you were a part of the story. But we weren't. I understand that she was trying to put us there, but it was done too often with no effect.
May 10, 2023
In our grade of nineteen, at the private school I attended, one of my classmates was black. I won’t lie to you—when I was a second-grader, I didn’t want to hold her hand, because I thought her skin felt different. I’m sorry.
But as the years passed, I thought perhaps she was more aware of her blackness than the rest of us were. This book kinda confirms that, for Patrice is very aware of her blackness. I appreciated her perspective. I never thought through, for instance, the offense of a confederate flag*.
I’m rather fascinated by blacks, and often find myself envious of the uninhibited freedom of expression they seem to own by birthright. But I am fascinated by all minority groups, perhaps because I have always been part of one—not for the color of my skin, but for the clothes I wear over it, as a conservative Mennonite. (*of possible note: I don’t fly any flag, and even avoid using American flag postage stamps. Because I'm Mennonite.)
Too, perhaps because in my culture, unlike the culture Patrice describes where black is for dirt and sin…among my people, black is holier. Black stockings, black shoes, black bonnets and hats, black vans. I was married in white (I’ve never worn red in my life) but my shoes were obediently black, fresh-polished. Tied.
I’m fascinated by the similarities in culture between Mennonites and blacks. We both choose really creative names for our children. And we both enjoy such exuberant worship services—uh, not.
Turns out I am very aware of my Mennoniteness. I remember the day I was wheeled, gowned, into an operating room for a D&E. A strange thought struck me: This was the first time I was appearing in public looking like “everyone else.” And this was followed closely with an urge to tell the assembled hospital crew that I am NOT like everyone else—I’m a Mennonite. I know a former Mennonite girl who used to sneak out in “worldly” clothes; the first time she tried it, she was miffed at how people didn't even seem to notice her. We’re used to being seen.
So who are we, we minority groups? How aware am I of my own color? Too aware? Too unaware? What about yours? Do I see you as you, or do I filter my understanding of you through the skin or skirt you wear? I appreciated this quiet collection of essays exploring such questions.
As for that classmate, she left the Mennonites long ago, but when I got in touch with her a few years ago, we talked about our school years. We talked about our current years. Our buckled-up culture clashes, apparently, with black American culture. At parties she attends now, her black friends will be right in the middle of things praying exuberant blessings over the birthday girl. And she? She finds a seat in the corner, talking quietly to the white guest. I wonder how often she tells them that she grew up Mennonite.
But as the years passed, I thought perhaps she was more aware of her blackness than the rest of us were. This book kinda confirms that, for Patrice is very aware of her blackness. I appreciated her perspective. I never thought through, for instance, the offense of a confederate flag*.
I’m rather fascinated by blacks, and often find myself envious of the uninhibited freedom of expression they seem to own by birthright. But I am fascinated by all minority groups, perhaps because I have always been part of one—not for the color of my skin, but for the clothes I wear over it, as a conservative Mennonite. (*of possible note: I don’t fly any flag, and even avoid using American flag postage stamps. Because I'm Mennonite.)
Too, perhaps because in my culture, unlike the culture Patrice describes where black is for dirt and sin…among my people, black is holier. Black stockings, black shoes, black bonnets and hats, black vans. I was married in white (I’ve never worn red in my life) but my shoes were obediently black, fresh-polished. Tied.
I’m fascinated by the similarities in culture between Mennonites and blacks. We both choose really creative names for our children. And we both enjoy such exuberant worship services—uh, not.
Turns out I am very aware of my Mennoniteness. I remember the day I was wheeled, gowned, into an operating room for a D&E. A strange thought struck me: This was the first time I was appearing in public looking like “everyone else.” And this was followed closely with an urge to tell the assembled hospital crew that I am NOT like everyone else—I’m a Mennonite. I know a former Mennonite girl who used to sneak out in “worldly” clothes; the first time she tried it, she was miffed at how people didn't even seem to notice her. We’re used to being seen.
So who are we, we minority groups? How aware am I of my own color? Too aware? Too unaware? What about yours? Do I see you as you, or do I filter my understanding of you through the skin or skirt you wear? I appreciated this quiet collection of essays exploring such questions.
As for that classmate, she left the Mennonites long ago, but when I got in touch with her a few years ago, we talked about our school years. We talked about our current years. Our buckled-up culture clashes, apparently, with black American culture. At parties she attends now, her black friends will be right in the middle of things praying exuberant blessings over the birthday girl. And she? She finds a seat in the corner, talking quietly to the white guest. I wonder how often she tells them that she grew up Mennonite.
September 6, 2018
All the colors we will see is a heartfelt collection of essays that moved me in more ways than one.
I enjoyed being a part of Patrice’s vibrant world of experiences, travelling with her words from Alaska to Charlotte, with a stop-over at South Africa and a peep into Zimbabwe.
From the first essay, “Heaven’s boxes” to the last one “So that we can remember” I loved the way she made me feel her experiences and not just read about them. I felt the tangy taste of the tamarind balls in her lines, “The sour, dried fruit dusted with sugar created a sensation in my mouth reminiscent of the steam that results when water drenches a campfire- two distinct flavors coexisting in one unique form.”
I was trying to curl my straight black hair with my fingers when I read her lines, “The mirror reminded me that my braids looked nothing like the streamers of hair flowing through my classroom at school. Every girl there seemed to have hair as straight as the lines on my notebook paper. I wanted that hair.” I smelt coconut oil, tasted coconut milk and learnt learn how to pick plantains at a grocery store through her words.
With each essay I found myself immersed in her world of myriad emotions. The search for her roots though she blends easily to belong, her search for an identity without being based on color are experiences that every immigrant can identify with. Her Indian ancestors, her gorgeous hair, her loving husband, the wonderful meanings of the names of her children, her mother’s cooking, every topic that she writes about has a unique flavor to it, making you relish every word till the end.
I enjoyed being a part of Patrice’s vibrant world of experiences, travelling with her words from Alaska to Charlotte, with a stop-over at South Africa and a peep into Zimbabwe.
From the first essay, “Heaven’s boxes” to the last one “So that we can remember” I loved the way she made me feel her experiences and not just read about them. I felt the tangy taste of the tamarind balls in her lines, “The sour, dried fruit dusted with sugar created a sensation in my mouth reminiscent of the steam that results when water drenches a campfire- two distinct flavors coexisting in one unique form.”
I was trying to curl my straight black hair with my fingers when I read her lines, “The mirror reminded me that my braids looked nothing like the streamers of hair flowing through my classroom at school. Every girl there seemed to have hair as straight as the lines on my notebook paper. I wanted that hair.” I smelt coconut oil, tasted coconut milk and learnt learn how to pick plantains at a grocery store through her words.
With each essay I found myself immersed in her world of myriad emotions. The search for her roots though she blends easily to belong, her search for an identity without being based on color are experiences that every immigrant can identify with. Her Indian ancestors, her gorgeous hair, her loving husband, the wonderful meanings of the names of her children, her mother’s cooking, every topic that she writes about has a unique flavor to it, making you relish every word till the end.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 7, 2018
From an Alaskan childhood to life as a newlywed in South Africa, in //All the Colors We Will See// author Patrice Gopo meditates on the ways that we are, for better and for worse, shaped by the places we are from and by the family trees that precede us. How, Gopo asks, can we balance remembering family histories and legacies with the desire to write our own story and history? Central to her work, Gopo raises challenging questions regarding race and identity for her readers as she relays her personal experiences as a Jamaican-Indian child in Alaska, and later as a black woman looking for a sense of community.
This is a thoughtful, introspective work written in a poetic style that provokes questions of what it means to belong to both a family and a wider cultural heritage. Readers with similar histories will relate to the challenges Gopo shares, while readers who have less in common will appreciate the sensitivity with which she tackles issues of belonging and community. Skillfully written, Gopo provides an insightful and hope-filled look into how we are shaped into who we are, and inspires us to ask who we may become.
This is a thoughtful, introspective work written in a poetic style that provokes questions of what it means to belong to both a family and a wider cultural heritage. Readers with similar histories will relate to the challenges Gopo shares, while readers who have less in common will appreciate the sensitivity with which she tackles issues of belonging and community. Skillfully written, Gopo provides an insightful and hope-filled look into how we are shaped into who we are, and inspires us to ask who we may become.
January 5, 2020
This collection of essays is not only the story of Patrice’s life, but also the experience of many Black Americans living in the United States in the last decades. Patrice, like many other American people, is the expression of a mixture of cultures, roots, and identities. Throughout the collection we have the sensation that she doesn’t feel at home anywhere, but between-borders is where she is really at ease. It is extraordinarily fascinating the way she describes herself, as a chemical reaction, a combination of many elements producing an unpredictable result. Moreover, Patrice has the feeling of being not an outsider or insider, but other. This sense of otherness demonstrates how the borders of blackness are permeable and the attempts to classify races with precise criteria are just vain attempts. I think that the main aim of this collection is to express the importance of retaining who we are and not letting dominant cultures to overshadow our inherited pasts. Even in a moment in which episodes of intolerance are multiplying, she feels proud of her identity and hopes that things will change one day.
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