I cried through most of “Daughters,” a documentary on Netflix. It tells of a dance arranged for incarcerated fathers with their young girls—“A Date with Dad.” Wisely focused on four of the girls, we watch, for instance, as Aubrey at five delights in her dad’s attention at the dance, and learns how seven rotations of the earth around the sun will constitute her dad’s sentence—7 years. It all began when a girl explained that her dad couldn’t come to the school dance because he was in jail. So community organizers said, “Let’s take the dance to them!”
For the fathers, the preparation is intense—10 weeks of a parenting course, followed by fittings for suits. The film shows them teaching each other how to tie ties, and one organizer’s 80-year old dad shines their dress shoes. Then the day arrives: other inmates wave goodbye as the dads leave for the dance. In perhaps the most dramatic moment, they sit, all dressed up, boutonnieres in their lapels, nervously and expectantly filling folding chairs along a sterile, institutional corridor of their D.C . jail. They lean forward tensely, all eyes on the door. When the first little girls appear in their best dresses, their hair done, the children’s excitement turns to a running plunge into dads’ arms. Some had worried they might not recognize each other, after absences of 3 to 5 years, but those concerns are quickly alleviated with hugs and tears all ‘round.
They have the time of their lives at the dance, with party food, music, games, art projects, lots of dancing. It gives new meaning to the Carey Landry song, “And the Father will dance, as on a day of joy. He will exalt over you and renew you by his love.” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cYQLLpWR9Q0)
Then the sad part—the goodbyes. Everyone is weeping; no one knows when they’ll see each other again. Wisely, the girls’ moms comfort them, and the dads have a processing session together. What emerges is how widely they’d failed to understand their own importance in their daughters’ lives. As one dad admits, “I’m usually in and out of jail every six months. But I’m never coming back.” Impressively, 95% of the dads who participated in the project don’t return to jail.
The film follow-up continues for several years, and some dads leave prison, returning to their families. One 10-year old who’d assumed adult responsibilities because her mom had a new baby had rarely smiled before. But caught in the rain with her dad, she breaks into a radiant smile and giggles. Sadly, the older girls seem to grow more distant, and Aubrey’s dad unexpectedly has his sentence turn into 10 years. She becomes noticeably cooler, returning almost numb from one rare visit where a pane of glass separated them. The dad grieves: “I couldn’t hold her like I did at the dance.” Some dads mention being better role models for when their older girls start to date—this is the kind of guy to look for.
The film won many awards and a rare 100% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. But its ending may leave the viewer flummoxed: why was such a successful project not repeated, maybe as an annual event everyone could look forward to? Has it been replicated in other prisons? One review indicates that its success rate has led to its implementation elsewhere. Let’s hope so. Or–let’s make it happen?
Kathy Coffey 