One of Hollywood’s biggest unspoken rules is: don’t bite the hand that feeds you. In other words, keep your negative comments—especially about the system and its power players—to yourself, or risk being shut out forever. Director Daddy says, f*ck all that. Literally. As the name of his boldly titled company, F*ck Hollywood Productions, makes clear, Daddy has zero interest in begging the establishment for a seat at the table. He’s building his own.

“If we really do our job right,” the writer-director tells BET.com from New York City, where he settled after graduating from NYU’s prestigious film school, “we shouldn't need them. We’re not going to chase the industry. We're going to do everything ourselves—and they're going to come to us.”

He might be on to something. The growing buzz around his unconventional projects suggests audiences are ready for something different. Take "Supernigga" (2022), for example—a spoof of the blaxploitation and superhero genres that flips the entire caped crusader story on its head. And while the title and premise might sound like a punchline, Daddy insists the film’s real purpose is more thought-provoking than people expect.

“One of my professors said that if we wanted a career in this industry, we had to write a superhero movie,” he says. “And I don’t care about superhero movies. But in every one of them, there’s always a love interest we know absolutely nothing about—just some white woman who doesn’t know that the guy she works with is a superhero.” "Supernigga" inverts that trope. “In my film, the superhero is the side character. It’s about what a Black woman goes through—the experience of dating a superhero—and asks the question, ‘What is the responsibility of a Black hero?’”

Daddy’s perspective runs counter to the louder calls for inclusion in Hollywood. He believes that constantly demanding the industry embrace more Black talent is a misguided goal. “I hate when people say, ‘What are white people gonna think about that title?’ Because, why do we care? Why is that your first reaction?” he asks. “That’s what I challenge with my work. I want to cater to the people it’s for. Whether you’re Black, white, or whatever—as long as you get it, it’s for you.”

His unapologetic outsider stance makes sense, given his background—and, of course, his name. A first-generation son of Congolese immigrants, Daddy was given his name by his mother after her younger brother’s nickname. Growing up with a name like that made him stand out. “It’s not a name people hear every day, so I’m all for the jokes and questions that come with it,” he says with a laugh.

Born in Egypt, Daddy spent his early years in Ireland before moving to Georgia, and finally, at age 12, landing in—wait for it—Atlanta. “I went from being the only Black kid in my class to being surrounded by Black people. I loved it,” he recalls. “I was so excited to finally be around my own.”

Like many children of immigrants, Daddy faced pressure to pursue a “respectable” career—doctor, lawyer, something stable. His mother, who came from an artistic family, was more supportive of his creative leanings, but his father, an entrepreneur, wasn’t convinced. When Daddy started performing stand-up, “My dad thought I was crazy,” he says. “He told me, ‘Don’t be a comedian. Own a comedy club. Find a way to actually make money.’”

That advice stuck. Over time, his father’s entrepreneurial wisdom shaped Daddy’s larger vision. Ownership—something Black creatives from Tyler Perry to Ryan Coogler to Jay-Z have championed—became central to his mission. Through F*ck Hollywood Productions, he can create freely, speak boldly, and stay in full control of his vision.

His latest project, "A Nightmare on Malcolm X Blvd.", is proof that his approach is working. The film, which he half-jokingly calls an “anti–snow bunny” movie or “a cautionary tale about interracial dating,” is currently crowdfunding on Kickstarter. It’s already drawing buzz and even some big-name support: Ilana Glazer, best known from "Broad City," has signed on as a collaborator. The two met years ago outside a comedy club and have stayed in touch since.

For Daddy, Glazer’s support—and the growing enthusiasm from everyday people backing his work—signals something bigger: a collective desire to move beyond Hollywood’s gatekeeping.

“Let’s bring a higher level of quality and awareness,” he says. “When you can put movies out for free, you create a gateway into a whole new world. As independent artists, we already have audiences. We don’t need anybody else.”