The Bridge Poem By Donna Kate Rushing (1981)

I've had enough I'm sick of seeing and touching Both sides of things Sick of being the damn bridge for everybody

Nobody Can talk to anybody Without me Right?

I explain my mother to my father my father to my little sister My little sister to my brother my brother to the white feminists The white feminists to the Black church folks the Black church folks To the Ex-hippies the ex-hippies to the Black separatists the Black separatists to the artists the artists to my friends' parents...

Then I've got the explain myself

To everybody

I do more translating Than the Gawdamn U.N.

Forget it I'm sick of it

I'm sick of filling in your gaps

Sick of being your insurance against The isolation of your self-imposed limitations Sick of being the crazy at your holiday dinners Sick of being the odd one at your Sunday Brunches Sick of being the sole Black friend to 34 individual white people

Find another connection to the rest of the world Find something else to make you legitimate Find some other way to be political and hip

I will not be the bridge to your womanhood Your manhood Your human-ness

I'm sick of reminding you not to Close off too tight for too long

I'm sick of mediating with your worst self On behalf you your better selves

I am sick Of having to remind you To breathe Before you suffocate Your own fool self

Forget it Stretch or drown Evolve or die

The bridge I must be Is the bridge to my own power I must translate My own fears Mediate My own weaknesses

I must be the bridge to nowhere But my true self And then I will be useful

I was introduced to this poem while taking a graduate level woman's studies class and it has always spoken to me. I feel like those words have been etched in the souls of black women, in particular, but women in general. In the words of Auntie Maxine... I'm reclaiming my time.