Building Something That Lasts: The Journey of Bridged
When we started Bridged, we knew what we wanted to create. A space that centered Black and Brown women. A space for rest, care, and connection. A space that felt like ours. What we didn’t fully know was just how much it would take to build something from the ground up, especially when you're trying to build it differently.
Over the last year, we’ve applied for so many grants. Some felt promising, others felt like shots in the dark. And while we’ve had a few beautiful wins, we’ve also had a lot of no’s. Not because the work isn’t important, but because this kind of work, community work, care work, slow and intentional work, isn’t always the kind that gets funded. That part’s been hard. Especially when you know in your gut how needed this is.
We decided to try something new and ran our first paid events. It was a shift, both for us and for our community. Would people show up if there was a price tag attached? Would it still feel like Bridged? But what happened was affirming. Not only did our events sell out, but people stayed after, lingered, opened up. It reminded us that when you create something with care, people feel it. And they show up for it.
The Bigger Problem
Here’s what we know: mainstream wellness wasn’t built for us. It’s curated, commodified, and often disconnected from the very people who need it most. For Black and Brown women, wellness isn’t a luxury, it’s necessary. And yet, we’re constantly made to feel like we’re on the margins of the conversation. Like we have to earn rest. Like we have to explain our pain.
That’s the gap Bridged is trying to fill.
We’re offering a new model, one rooted in collective care, cultural grounding, and belonging. Where wellness doesn’t mean detaching from the world, but finding your place in it. Where healing doesn’t happen in isolation, but in community.
What We’re Learning
There’s this idea that wellness is something you “do,” a class, a product, a practice. But what if it’s also something we create together? What if it’s a culture, a rhythm, a way of being in relationship, with ourselves, with each other, with the spaces we move through?
We’ve been thinking a lot about what it really means to build community, not just as a word on a flyer, but as a commitment. Community requires presence. It asks us to show up, even when it's uncomfortable or slow or uncertain. It asks us to listen deeply, to hold space, to believe that healing is possible, not just individually, but collectively.
We’re not here to offer quick fixes or aesthetic versions of healing. We’re here to remind each other that we belong to something deeper. That our wellness is tied to our dignity, our joy, our liberation.
