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Lesson two. We had to man up. It was not a request. We were his daughters. He expected more from us. We weren’t like our little friends out there. We couldn’t wait for life to defeat us.
You gotta toughen up.
More meant being better. Better was ground into our bodies. It wrenched our arms. While we screamed, it kneed our backs. It pressed its calloused fingers into our wrists. It balled into fists and pounded throbbing frogs into our legs. It pulled us into chokeholds until we nearly pissed our pants. More was Daddy’s love.
I ain’t raise no punks, aiite?
Lesson three. He ordered us to use pressure points to disable a man. Any man could be taken down if we tried hard enough. We just had to try, goddammit!
Don’t be a victim!
Daddy learned in the Corps that pressure points were everywhere. He pushed his fingers into our palms and biceps. As we writhed in the fetal position, he found them in our feet and legs. He parted our screams to discover one in our necks. Under the weight of his strength our entire bodies were a ripened point. The human body was a canvas for us to destroy. Perhaps now, if I were bored, I could pick a fight with a man to hurt him the way
Daddy