Dear Ms. Rushin,
Thank you for your ground-breaking, nail-biting, eye-averting, absolutely necessary honesty. Your poem “The Bridge Poem” is outlandish and elegant. I had to read it twice before I could formulate my own version of what you were trying to convey. But the fact that it made me confused was intriguing, and that intrigue converted to insight after a second look. Your poem really speaks to me, it truly moves me. I feel like I can relate to your frustrations. Do you think that’s possible? I’m just a petite white girl who’s lived outside DC her whole life thinking she understood diversity and was accepting and intentional; the same way the USDA “suggests” that Big Ag test and retest their equipment, or the way people join groups on facebook supporting efforts to stop world hunger and believe they’ve actually made an honest effort to help. On the outside, it looks nice and seems practical, but in reality, gaping loopholes exist. Like you, I feel that I lack power, and that I have expectations to fulfill. But while you are the victim of your family and political groups and 34 white individuals and more, I am the victim of myself. You feel pressure squeezing the life out of you from the outside, while I feel like I’ll burst from the pressure exerted internally. So what should I do? You tell us to, “stretch or drown, evolve or die.” I think admittance is a stretch—I am an over-privileged white girl that didn’t fully understand her privilege until she was 20 years old. Here’s another stretch: I have the privilege to be my true self without having to explain it or rationalize it to anyone, and you don’t. That is not fair. What’s next? Evolution….Well, look for another letter in 20 years.
Fondly,
Juliet
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