Winner of the Audience Award in the documentary category at Sundance, Daughters (Their daughters) is a film that we watch through a veil of tears. It follows Aubrey, 5, Santana, 10, Ja’Ana, 11, and Raziah, 15, as they prepare for a very special activity: the Daddy Daughters Dance, an initiative set up by Angela Patton that aims to allow young girls from the black community to reconnect with their imprisoned fathers. This is done through a dance event that is a pretext for physical, but also emotional, contact, which would otherwise be impossible. At the same time, we witness the confidences of the fathers, who share their experiences during the group sessions that are part of the program. We spoke with documentary filmmaker Natalie Rae as well as Angela Patton, who co-directs.
A longtime activist, Angela Patton is passionate about the development and empowerment of young black girls from difficult backgrounds (girls who are not “at risk,” but “girls with promise,” she emphasizes). She champions this cause through Camp Diva and Girls For A Change, two nonprofits she founded.
“We started this father-daughter dance event in 2007 in our community of Richmond, Virginia,” she explains.
Inspired by the traditional father-daughter dance at weddings, this activity was intended as a reminder of the importance of the father-daughter relationship in the development of young girls.
“One year, one of the girls admitted she couldn’t participate because her father was in prison,” Patton continues. “The other girls spontaneously suggested that we have a prison dance. It was really their idea. Our organization has really just supported them by helping them make that dream a reality.”
It should be noted that in the United States, most prisons no longer allow family meetings in person, with physical contact (taking your child in your arms, even just once a year, is therefore impossible for an inmate, regardless of the length of their incarceration and the nature of their crime). As for videoconference communications, they are paid and expensive.
From then on, the bond between a father and his daughter can break down, especially if it was already tenuous.
Lucidity and maturity
In the background, Daughters does not fail to establish that the black community is overrepresented in prison. “The American justice system creates injustices that tear black families and brown families apart,” denounces Angela Patton.
Yet Natalie Rae and Angela Patton refrain from any statistical demonstration. With a lucidity and maturity beyond their youth, Aubrey, Santana, Ja’Ana, and Raziah express a human reality more eloquent — and poignant — than any numbers.
“We were determined to tell these stories from the girls’ perspective, but to spend significant time with the fathers,” Rae notes. “Our approach was to let the stories come to life, without interfering. We didn’t want a top-down, analytical, interview-based approach. We wanted to capture, in the everyday, what’s going on in the heads and hearts of these young girls. Our job was to listen, and then show, not tell. Our goal was for the audience to really connect with the girls.”
What happens. The words of the four participants are completely unfiltered. Between dismay, anger, resilience and forgiveness, they explain the repercussions of the absence of their fathers in their lives: words that are sometimes heartbreaking, sometimes inspiring, often both at the same time.
“The selection process was very organic,” says Rae. “It was almost as if there was a divine force watching over us. Some of the girls in the program were spontaneously drawn to the documentary project. There were six of them initially, but two of the fathers were transferred to other detention centers in preparation. But at the same time, the four remaining girls are so captivating, lively and intelligent, yet very different from each other… And each one embodied a specific type of father-daughter relationship.”
On the fathers’ side, the regrets, fears and hopes expressed are moving.
“Contrary to what you might think, getting them to open up the way they do wasn’t difficult,” says Angela Patton. “And that’s thanks to Chad Morris, their fatherhood coach. [qui anime les séances de groupe]. Chad has been doing this for years, and not only does he have the training, but there is something about him that makes you want to confide in him right away. Chad introduces himself to them by telling them up front that he is not their teacher, but that they are going to learn together.
“I was surprised by the level of openness that these men demonstrate,” adds Natalie Rae. “You have to understand that in this prison context, showing emotion, vulnerability, can be very dangerous. So there’s a facade, an armor, but with Chad, all that falls away instantly.”
Angela Patton says: “Many of the participating fathers continued to meet after the project ended. And that’s great. That’s the goal.”
It should be noted that the film refrains from revealing what these fathers were found guilty of, which means that we have fewer preconceptions about them, and that it is the father-daughter relationship that remains the focal point.
Beneficial effect
In a powerful moment, one of the fathers admits that if he agreed to participate in the program, it was initially only to see his daughter in person. He did not know that there would be this circle of fatherhood upstream. However, he continues, all this sharing has transformed him more than he can say: he did not count on it, and is all the more grateful for it.
Cynics may not believe it, and it is probably for their benefit that the film allows itself a statistic at the very end: in a context of high recidivism, 95% of fathers who participated in the Daddy Daughters Dance program did not return to prison.
Looking back on the eight-year journey, three in development and two in filming, Patton says, “The biggest challenge was getting people to stay. I think of the mothers: they had the final say. Some of them might not be enthusiastic about it, for very good reasons, but they recognized that it was good for their daughters. These are complex situations. Their buy-in was essential. We were lucky to have four mothers.”
In the same breath, Angela Patton describes a journey strewn with pitfalls, but ultimately, luminous, concluding: “This film is not a prison story. It is a love story.”
The documentary Daughters Coming to Netflix on August 14