Talking about the carceral state in America can take a lot of work. So many aspects of the justice and prison system are in play that it is hard to find a way to talk about them all with compassion and understanding. But all too often, the discussion about the logistics of criminality loses any sense of the people involved. In the documentary “Daughters,” premiering this week on Netflix, filmmakers Angela Patton and Natalie Rae explore the humanity of those behind bars and those still on the outside.
The film follows four Black girls whose fathers are imprisoned: 5-year-old Aubrey, 10-year-old Santana, 11-year-old Ja’Ana, and 15-year-old Raziah. Through an organization called Girls for a Change, these girls are able to have one day with their fathers for a dance.
This movie chooses not to focus on the crimes of the fathers but rather on what personal contact with their daughters means to them. For most of them, contact is incredibly limited. In-person visitation is rare, and when it does happen, physical contact is often prohibited. Even simple things like talking on the phone or video chatting with those on the outside are limited due to exorbitant costs to access those options. The filmmakers do an excellent job of showing how the fathers feel about seeing their daughters in person — the excitement but also the fear.
They do the same for the daughters as they prepare for the dance. Many of these girls have been unable to hug their fathers since incarceration, and there is a sense of trepidation about seeing them for the first time in this context. The film also spends time with the mothers, who are doing the work of raising these young girls every day and who may have complicated feelings about their daughters visiting a prison.
After spending time sharing these stories, the film shows the girls arriving at the dance. The foundation that Patton and Rae laid down in the early part of the film pays off when we see these fathers and daughters embrace. As much as the film showcases the humanity of everyone in the first act, the dance itself offers a far more visceral reaction that is incredibly powerful.
What makes this film special is the level of honesty we see on display from everyone who participated. Talking about issues that are this personal and with this much stigma is not easy, but Patton and Rae work hard to make the subjects comfortable enough to share things that are not safe to say.
This is a complicated watch because, after the dance, most of these girls go back to life without a father. One of the final shots is of Aubrey, who is
5 at the time of the dance, three years later, on the phone with her dad, who is still in prison. But while there can be a sense of despair, we are left with hope. Men who participate in this program and have that experience have a 95% chance of remaining out of prison following their release. The power of “Daughters” is ultimately an examination of the power of connection.
Alise Chaffins is a Morgantown writer who loves movies and sharing her opinions. She reviews a movie from a streaming service every Saturday and one newly in theaters every Sunday. Find more at MacGuffin or Meaning on Substack.
