Post by Bindy Trent on Feb 23, 2017 22:34:58 GMT -5
The man sitting across from her, eyes down turned behind a pair of bifocals, did not look his age. There was a classic adage that “black don’t crack,” and while that often seemed to be true, there was also somewhat of a rebellious spirit to the man that had kept him young for many years. Especially the most trying ones of raising six children. Bindy had dropped by her parent’s house, which was also her own old home to see them, specifically him, on this day she had off while she was still finding ways to prepare for her next match. Again she would have a shot at the Resilience Championship, and seeing as she always believed her father to be the smartest man she knew she had come to him for guidance.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
So, you like this guy huh?
»BINDY«
I do. Purely platonic. I think he’s nice, he’s respectful, and I have a good time competing against him. That’s what’s making this hard. Normally I can find something in an opponent to latch onto, to give me a reason to fight, other than just pride. But Dare? Eh, I don’t know. I’m not mad at him!
She was frustrated however, and smacked her palms against the arm rests of the chair she sat in. Her father nodded, steepling his index fingers under his chin which contained a few gray hairs. Less than you would suspect on a man of 60 years old though.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Bindy, sometimes you’re going to have people in your life that you like and get along with just fine. They’ll never do you wrong, but the two of you come from intrinsically different places. They won’t understand your struggle and because of that, through no malice of their own they won’t be able to help but hold you back. And you don’t have to hate or resent them for that, but you should never, ever let them stop you from getting what you deserved simply for the sake of niceties.
In his lap he’d been holding a couple items. The first was a black and white photograph that he handed to her. It features several African American men leaning against a brick building, all in bell bottoms and leather jackets with the patch of a black fist raised in power sewn onto the front. Her father, baby faced as all get out was in the middle of the three.
»BINDY«
Mom’s told me a few stories about your Black Panther days.
Bindy exhaled in a short little burst, not quite a laugh. It was obvious her Pops still felt a bit of pride about all that, and hearing his daughter’s words he tried to not smile too gratuitously.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Well, Bindy, the point I’m making is I knew a lot of people back then, white, Jewish, Italian, and they were all great people. But they weren’t going to fight for me. It was my own battle and sometimes if they were in my path I had to fight them too. It was just the nature of progress. And in the end, if this Dare guy is as decent as you say, then he’ll understand if you have to step over him to make progress for yourself. If he doesn’t, that’s not your burden. You’ve got to look out for yourself Bindy, before anyone else. And you need to know he’ll be doing the same in his position, without a second about you.
He had a point. Several good ones actually. She rubbed her forehead.
»BINDY«
I don’t know, I feel like fighting for civil rights might have been a bit more serious than competing in professional wrestling.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
It’s as serious as you want it to be. It’s your life hun, but I have a rule. If you’re going to wear this …
Unfolding the other item he’d brought with him, revealed it to be the jacket he was wearing in the picture. The young woman’s eyes brightened.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Then you better represent, and be as seriously bad ass in all things you do as you look in this.
He stood up, and she followed after, hopping to her feet with an excitement she found hard to stifle. Her father helped slip the jacket over her arms and around her shoulders, and from there she zipped it up about halfway. It was a little big, but she wasn’t swimming in it. The index and middle finger of her left hand reached up to touch the Black Panther patch on the chest. It was faded, but it still looked as righteous as ever. It was a shame there wasn’t a mirror near by, but she could sort of see her reflection in some of the pictures on the walls.
»BINDY«
How do I look?
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Well, certainly not like no jive turkey.
Teased the gentleman. He brushed off her shoulders, and just took in the sight of his daughter in the outfit. It seemed to make him proud that one of his children had fully embraced the wild attitude he’d had in his own youth. Truthfully, he’d been looking for a reason for some time to hand the clothing article down to her, but if he could pretend to impart some wisdom with it too. Then why not?
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Isn’t there someone else in your match too?
»BINDY«
Austin? Yeah Dad, but he doesn’t matter.
Confident, she hiked her arms, readjusting the jacket on herself, and stood up a little taller. More assured in herself. Papa Trent liked what he saw.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Let me ask you now. You think you can handle Dare? And the power and responsibility of that jacket?
»BINDY«
He’s not going to go out there and fight for me.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
So what are you going to do?
She raised a closed fist in the air, which her father met, and the two bumped their knuckles against one another’s.
»BINDY«
I’m going to Fight The Power.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
So, you like this guy huh?
»BINDY«
I do. Purely platonic. I think he’s nice, he’s respectful, and I have a good time competing against him. That’s what’s making this hard. Normally I can find something in an opponent to latch onto, to give me a reason to fight, other than just pride. But Dare? Eh, I don’t know. I’m not mad at him!
She was frustrated however, and smacked her palms against the arm rests of the chair she sat in. Her father nodded, steepling his index fingers under his chin which contained a few gray hairs. Less than you would suspect on a man of 60 years old though.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Bindy, sometimes you’re going to have people in your life that you like and get along with just fine. They’ll never do you wrong, but the two of you come from intrinsically different places. They won’t understand your struggle and because of that, through no malice of their own they won’t be able to help but hold you back. And you don’t have to hate or resent them for that, but you should never, ever let them stop you from getting what you deserved simply for the sake of niceties.
In his lap he’d been holding a couple items. The first was a black and white photograph that he handed to her. It features several African American men leaning against a brick building, all in bell bottoms and leather jackets with the patch of a black fist raised in power sewn onto the front. Her father, baby faced as all get out was in the middle of the three.
»BINDY«
Mom’s told me a few stories about your Black Panther days.
Bindy exhaled in a short little burst, not quite a laugh. It was obvious her Pops still felt a bit of pride about all that, and hearing his daughter’s words he tried to not smile too gratuitously.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Well, Bindy, the point I’m making is I knew a lot of people back then, white, Jewish, Italian, and they were all great people. But they weren’t going to fight for me. It was my own battle and sometimes if they were in my path I had to fight them too. It was just the nature of progress. And in the end, if this Dare guy is as decent as you say, then he’ll understand if you have to step over him to make progress for yourself. If he doesn’t, that’s not your burden. You’ve got to look out for yourself Bindy, before anyone else. And you need to know he’ll be doing the same in his position, without a second about you.
He had a point. Several good ones actually. She rubbed her forehead.
»BINDY«
I don’t know, I feel like fighting for civil rights might have been a bit more serious than competing in professional wrestling.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
It’s as serious as you want it to be. It’s your life hun, but I have a rule. If you’re going to wear this …
Unfolding the other item he’d brought with him, revealed it to be the jacket he was wearing in the picture. The young woman’s eyes brightened.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Then you better represent, and be as seriously bad ass in all things you do as you look in this.
He stood up, and she followed after, hopping to her feet with an excitement she found hard to stifle. Her father helped slip the jacket over her arms and around her shoulders, and from there she zipped it up about halfway. It was a little big, but she wasn’t swimming in it. The index and middle finger of her left hand reached up to touch the Black Panther patch on the chest. It was faded, but it still looked as righteous as ever. It was a shame there wasn’t a mirror near by, but she could sort of see her reflection in some of the pictures on the walls.
»BINDY«
How do I look?
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Well, certainly not like no jive turkey.
Teased the gentleman. He brushed off her shoulders, and just took in the sight of his daughter in the outfit. It seemed to make him proud that one of his children had fully embraced the wild attitude he’d had in his own youth. Truthfully, he’d been looking for a reason for some time to hand the clothing article down to her, but if he could pretend to impart some wisdom with it too. Then why not?
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Isn’t there someone else in your match too?
»BINDY«
Austin? Yeah Dad, but he doesn’t matter.
Confident, she hiked her arms, readjusting the jacket on herself, and stood up a little taller. More assured in herself. Papa Trent liked what he saw.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
Let me ask you now. You think you can handle Dare? And the power and responsibility of that jacket?
»BINDY«
He’s not going to go out there and fight for me.
ʭPAPA TRENTʭ
So what are you going to do?
She raised a closed fist in the air, which her father met, and the two bumped their knuckles against one another’s.
»BINDY«
I’m going to Fight The Power.