Tender, Delicate and Devastating, Daughters Explores the Complexity of “Father Wounds”

For ten long weeks, men who are incarcerated in a Washington, D.C. prison eagerly anticipate a rare opportunity to reunite with their daughters in the profoundly moving documentary feature Daughters. The film from co-directors Natalie Rae and Angela Patton follows these fathers and their children as they prepare for a “Date with Dad” dance that will allow them to be reunited for six hours, a rare opportunity for physical connection as prisons across the board begin to limit in-person visitations. As part of the two-and-a-half-month lead-up to the dance, those eligible to participate complete a fatherhood coaching program, entailing an informal roundtable where the men are able to express their complicated feelings about their own upbringings and anxieties over their mandated absence. Rawly exposing the cruelty imposed upon predominantly Black children by the carceral state while also capturing the emotional whiplash of this fleeting encounter, Rae and Patton construct a visually stunning and narratively resonant portrait of love and longing.

“My dad is the third-strongest dad I know,” beams five-year-old Aubrey, a funny and precocious girl who can’t contain the excitement of seeing her father, Kevin, once again after he was arrested in their home months beforehand. “When he says he loves me, I’mma say I love him more,” she declares in her childish lilt as she sits on the couch with her mother Lashawn. Lining every corner of the living room is a framed certificate that Aubrey has been awarded at school—with math and multiplication tables being her specialty—which she racks up with ease as a tribute to her father.

Conversely, 10-year-old Santana feels betrayed by her dad, Mark, who has been incarcerated multiple times during her childhood. “I will tell him that I’m sick of seeing myself cry,” she glumly states to the camera as her mother Diamond cradles her infant sister and speaks on the phone with Mark out of earshot. “The next time you go back in jail, I’m not even going to shed one single tear.” Her upper lip curls and her eyes shoot daggers; it doesn’t help that ever since dad went back to jail, she’s been co-parenting her younger sibling and helping mom with a mountain of domestic tasks. “It’s not okay, it’s affecting me.”

15-year-old Raziah, however, directs the profound sadness of her father Alonzo’s absence inward. “I’m just getting older and soon I’ll be leaving school, graduating, all of that stuff,” her voice trembles. “I’m just scared he won’t be here to see the memories.” It isn’t until Sherita, Raziah’s mother, is interviewed that the audience understands the toll that Alonzo’s incarceration has taken on their daughter’s mental health.

While these girls have vastly different responses to their fathers’ prison sentences, Kevin, Mark and Alonzo all share one common goal: to do everything they can to be pillars of unwavering love and support in their daughters’ lives. What is so beautiful about Daughters is that the film also asserts how these young girls unconditionally support their fathers—even through the pain, disappointment and personal turmoil they experience from their imprisonment. Without one of their parents around to demystify and advise on life’s challenges, they are robbed of a vital aspect of childhood, forcing them to grow up faster than they deserve.

“Our daddies are our mirrors that we reflect back on,” says co-director Patton during the film’s opening. While she is also a recurring subject in the film, she is not an imposing or central figure, implementing a deft decision to focus on the subjects and their fathers in lieu of platforming the organization she founded, Camp Diva, which brought the program to D.C. after a successful prison-set daddy-daughter dance in Patton’s hometown of Richmond, Virginia. Her TED Talk about the initial experience may have gone viral, but it’s refreshing that Patton understood the necessity of taking a back seat in order to tell a story more powerful than her own. (As she states, her father was always in her life, and he even goes so far as to shine all of the incarcerated men’s dress shoes ahead of the event.)

Undoubtedly aided by Patton’s involvement, the film’s candid confessions speak to a level of involvement from the directors that never borders on invasive or insensitive. There is no discussion of the fathers’ charges, only of the length of their sentences, as that’s the element of their incarceration that most profoundly impacts their relationship with their daughters. The girls are also allowed to express their unvarnished thoughts, reflecting the genuine comfort they must have felt with the filmmakers. Yet even amid these sincerely heart-wrenching scenes, the actual camerawork, lighting and framing are artistically inclined, making Daughters all the more riveting to engage with; the resulting dance itself is awash in a beautiful haze, as if the prickly pang of nostalgia colors each ruefully impermanent moment.

“The absence of a father often leaves a wound,” explains fatherhood coach Chad Morris to the group of men during one particularly insightful meeting. It’s clear that this wound is often inflicted across multiple generations, with several participants revealing that their own parents were themselves incarcerated, though its perpetuation is certainly not inevitable. Remarkably, recidivism rates among “Date with Dad” participants is virtually non-existent, a feat in and of itself in a country that disproportionately jails Black men. (“Us being in here…this shit is not normal,” says one individual. “200 years ago, a lot of brothers were in shackles. This is no different.”) Lensed with love yet unabashedly committed to its nuanced depiction of familial strain—as well as the social systems that beget this separation—Daughters is a testament to the power of a father’s love and support, no matter the obstacle.

Directors: Natalie Rae, Angela Patton
Release Date: August 14, 2024 (Netflix)

Natalia Keogan is Filmmaker Magazine’s web editor, and regularly contributes freelance film reviews here at Paste. Her writing has also appeared in Blood Knife Magazine, SlashFilm and Daily Grindhouse, among others. She lives in Queens with her large orange cat. Find her on Twitter @nataliakeogan