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On a beautiful Saturday afternoon in April 2025, something extraordinary happened at California's most famous prison, San Quentin Rehabilitation Center (SQRC). The prison's chapel was transformed into a gorgeous ballroom: music filled the air, an illuminated dance floor beckoned, the scent of fresh flowers wafted through the room, and twinkling lights sparkled overhead. Outside, guests arrived on a ruby red carpet. Girls wore beautiful gowns and dresses; their fathers, in sharp tuxedos, held corsages ready to be tied onto their daughters' wrists. This wasn't a prom in the usual high schoolNever Been Kissed sense. Instead, it was a magical evening where 17 incarcerated fathers got the chance to do something many of us take for granted: simply dance with their daughters and make them feel special.

Twenty-five daughters, ages 7 to 27, walked down that red carpet to reunite with their beloved fathers—some hadn't seen each other in years, others in over a decade. On the sidelines, “correctional officers, guardians, mothers, and volunteers cheered as each reunion took place. Some people were in tears, writes,” Localnewsmatters. SQRC's “Parenting Prom” was planned and hosted by The People in Blue (TPIB), a coalition of innovative incarcerated individuals working to reimagine California's prisons from the inside. This night in April was never meant to be a singular, one-off event—this is what rehabilitation can look like at its best: healing families and individuals, rather than warehousing people who have made mistakes.

If you think prison is just about punishment, you’re missing the bigger picture

This is what healing looks like in action.

“We want to promote healing,” said Arthur Jackson, The People in Blue’s president. “We want to promote healing for everybody, victims of crime, families, communities, and incarcerated individuals. We believe families are critical to rehabilitation and healing, and we want to normalize these reunions as much as possible.”

Members of TPIB worked as ushers and servers, ensuring everyone in attendance—mothers, guardians, daughters, and fathers—were well cared for and enjoying themselves. The idea for the Parenting Prom began in 2023, when someone noticed Louis Sale (a TPIB member and the night's emcee) dancing with his daughter, Matalena, at the SQRC Hawaiian Makahiki celebration. The inspiration grew when residents at SQRC watched the documentary Daughters in 2024, which showcases a similar father-daughter dance in a Washington, D.C. jail. It resonated deeply. “We knew we had to make it happen,” says Sale.

"We knew we needed to make it happen," said the emcee, Louis Sale. Credit: @drumarjojodinero (TikTok)

San Quentin, California's oldest and most well-known prison, is undergoing a major transformation into a rehabilitation-focused facility. Inspired by Scandinavian models, the new San Quentin Rehabilitation Center prioritizes education, therapy, job training, and family connection while moving away from traditional punishment approaches. The goal? To reduce recidivism—the relapse into criminal behavior after release—and prepare incarcerated individuals for successful reentry into society. This revolutionary change has the prison now housing approximately 3,900 individuals, with a focus on lower-risk individuals who can benefit most from rehabilitation programs.

“I can't stop crying”

Each incarcerated father was required to complete and graduate from an eight-week family communication workshop. The workshop was created by Tam Nguyen, a TPIB member who has been incarcerated for 22 years and has prior training from the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation's Offender Mentor Certification Program and the Youthful Offender Program.

“I started this workshop to help bring families closer together,” said Nguyen. “If we don’t have strong family ties when we go back to our communities, it increases the recidivism rate.”

One of those graduates was Steven Embrey, who danced with his three daughters, Ase (7), Anna (9), and Tiara (28). “This workshop helped me be more understanding. I listen more, and we talk about reasonable and unreasonable expectations,” he said.

Some of the fathers hadn't seen their daughters in years. Credit: @drumarjojodinero (TikTok)

The emotional impact of the night was immediate and profound. Carrington Russelle, another incarcerated father who graduated from the class, reunited with his 12- and 14-year-old daughters, Jazlyn and Jayla, who had traveled all the way from Georgia to see him.

“It's the first time I saw them in person in more than a decade,” said Russelle. “I can't stop crying.”

One of the most powerful moments came during the slow dance to Luther Vandross' “Dance with My Father.” There wasn't a dry eye in the room as correctional officers, volunteers, and family members watched fathers—some who hadn't seen their daughters in decades—embrace and share that special song together.

“I have been at San Quentin over 20 years. I have probably witnessed hundreds of events, but nothing like this,” said acting chief deputy warden Eric Patao. “I have three daughters. I understand a father's love. We have a common bond today.”

The Parenting Prom was a community event, cultivated with love. Credit: @drumarjojodinero (TikTok)

Another beautiful aspect? The evening was truly a community effort: some daughters received free flights and hotel accommodations to see their fathers, thanks to God Behind Bars. Other organizations and individuals provided a DJ, decorations, and food. At the end of the night, daughters received flowers, goodie bags, and t-shirts reading “I Danced with My Father.”

The Parenting Prom at San Quentin represents something much bigger than one beautiful evening. It's a glimpse into what our justice system could look like if we prioritized healing over punishment, connection over isolation, and hope over despair. Steven Warren, who danced with his 8-year-old daughter Wynter, captured this perfectly: “We did this to build long-lasting healthy relationships with our daughters. This is a memory that will last a lifetime.”