By David Greenham
The beauty of Jaja’s African Hair Braiding at this political moment is that it provides a firsthand rebuttal to the current administration’s draconian policies — without ever directly acknowledging them.
Jaja’s African Hair Braiding by Jocelyn Bioh. Directed by Summer L. Williams. Scenic design by Janie E. Howland. Costume design by Danielle Domingue Sumi. Lighting design by Christopher Brusberg. Sound design by Aubey Dube. Hair and wig design by Nadja Vanterpool. Props coordinator Andrew Reynolds. Intimacy choreography by Paulina Martz. Dialect coaching by Debora Crabbe. Produced by Speakeasy Stage Company at the Calderwood Pavilion, Tremont Street, through May 31.
MaConnia Chesser (center) and the SpeakEasy Stage Company cast of Jaja’s African Hair Braiding. Photo: Nile Scott Studios.
In the program notes for this production of Jaja’s African Hair Braiding, director Summer L. Williams writes that “a salon is a sacred place. You are uniquely vulnerable while in that space.” Speakeasy Stage Company’s Boston premiere of Jocelyn Bioh’s latest comic-drama is, sadly, even more timely today than when its action is set, the summer of 2019.
We visit Jaja’s African Hair Braiding, a shop on the corner of 125th and St. Nicholas Avenue in Harlem, on a hot July morning. Jaja’s 18-year-old daughter, Marie (Dru Sky Berrian), rushes in loaded with bags of supplies for the place. Hairdresser Miriam (MarHadoo Effeh) is patiently waiting for her. “It’s just been one of those days already, you know?,” the frazzled teenager offers as an excuse. She does have a lot on her shoulders. She’s just graduated at the top of her class in high school; she wants to be a writer, but her mother insists Marie should study to be a doctor. For now, Marie works as the manager of a store, and the everyday lives of the hairdressers are filled with plenty of competing drama.
In addition to Miriam, there’s Bea (Crystin Gilmore), Jaja’s close friend. She and Jaja were house cleaners together and methodically saved up money to open the shop. Jaja managed to open the business before Bea had accumulated the funding to become a partner. Bea still desires to open her own shop, and she isn’t shy about telling everyone why her salon would be better. Energetic Aminata (Kwezi Shongwe) is Bea’s sidekick and she comes off as the life of the party. She loves her duties at the shop and finds ways to entertain herself, such as immediately turning on the TV for music to dance to.
Ndidi (Catia) is the most efficient braider of the four. She has only been at the shop for a brief time because her salon is being rebuilt after a fire. Young and fearless, Ndidi’s business acumen draws in customers, including one of Bea’s ‘regulars.’
The lively conversations, touching on the trials and tribulations of the braiders, are at the heart of this story. But the proceedings are also peppered with terrific cameos from the customers, who include Jennifer (Hampton Richards), who wants long micro braids, the most time-consuming style. We also meet rude Vanessa, businesswoman Sheila, and Radia, one of Marie’s rich former classmates, all of these characters played with skill by Ashley Aldarondo. Beyoncé wannabe Chrissy, shop regular Laniece, and Michelle, a customer of Bea’s who has decided she prefers Ndidi do her hair, are all played with earnestness by Yasmeen Duncan. The only male cast member, Joshua Olumide, takes on a number of characters: Aminata’s manchild husband James, a terrific series of street salesmen, Franklin the sock man, Olu the jewelry man, who has a crush on Ndidi, and Eric, who sells DVDs.
Joshua Olumide, Yasmeen Duncan, and Catia (from left in foreground) in the SpeakEasy Stage Company production of Jaja’s African Hair Braiding. Photo: Nile Scott Studios
The banter in the shop is fast and often hilarious, the women sharing seriocomic glimpses into their lives. At one point, Aminata changes the TV channel to Netflix and one of the popular Nigerian soap operas comes on — everyone at the salon stops and watches, fixated for a moment on a “Nollywood” tale. In another scene, Jennifer teases out Miriam’s story. She has a young daughter she left in Sierra Leone, and the woman desperately wants to get back there and bring her to the US.
The braiders, all first-generation African immigrants, detail their various dreams, including some of the hardships of trying to create a satisfying life in a new country that isn’t always welcoming. While Trump is never mentioned by name, the story takes place during his first administration. There are references to ICE raids and other anti-immigrant policies that have become even more lawless in 2025. That threat from the authorities is at the center of Bioh’s tale. These hard-working women — from Ghana, Sierra Leone, Senegal, and Nigeria — are lovable, funny, deeply caring, emotional. And deeply and justifiably afraid of what the future might bring.
The big excitement at the salon is that today is Jaja’s wedding day. “She’s finally going to get married and get her papers,” Aminata says. Jaja’s marrying a white man, Steven, a local landlord. They make fun of her dress for the occasion and mock her many references to “Steven” and their glorious plans. But later in the play, when Jaja (delightful MaConnia Chesser) arrives in her dress on the way to the wedding hall, where many couples will be married at once, they cheer and throw money. Jaja is happy to “get all this nonsense immigration stuff out of the way,” adding, “if we are paying taxes, we should become citizens.”
From left: Kwezi Shongwe and Crystin Gilmore in the SpeakEasy Stage Company production of Jaja’s African Hair Braiding. Photo: Nile Scott Studios
Set designer Janie E. Howland has created a colorful and naturalistic set, placed on an impressive graffiti-tagged wall that is pulled aside like the metal barriers used to protect urban shops. The props dressing by Andrew Reynolds supplies the verisimilitude of a lived-in shop. Danielle Domingue Sumi’s costumes are colorful and amusing. Christopher Brusberg’s lights and Aubey Dube’s sound hit the mark. But it’s Nadja Vanterpool’s hair and wig design that steals the show. The challenge of setting a play in a hair braiding shop is obvious: we need to see the braiders make progress. Vanterpool makes that happen, while director Summer L. Williams and the acting ensemble collaborate, skillfully, to make the show’s hair transitions seamless.
Williams, who also directed SpeakEasy Stage’s first production of a Bioh play in 2029 (Arts Fuse review), once again delivers an appropriately crisp and fast-moving treatment. The production’s pinball-like energy skillfully interlaces the script’s interludes of fun and poignancy. Clocking in at 90 minutes, without intermission, the staging is packed full of jocose dialogue and activity, quick character introductions, and sweet moments of depth. Yet the evening never feels harried or frenetic.
The beauty of Jaja’s African Hair Braiding at this political moment is that it provides a firsthand rebuttal to the current administration’s draconian policies — without ever directly acknowledging them. Keep in mind, it was just a year ago when candidate Trump claimed that immigrants are “not humans, they’re not humans, they’re animals.” In the face of Trump’s exploitation of hatred and demagoguery, Bea knows that those who are endangered the most by these injustices need to keep moving forward every day. “Sometimes, that’s all we can do.… You understand?” Those of us with the will, time, and resources need to keep fighting on their behalf.
David Greenham is an arts and culture consultant, adjunct lecturer on Drama at the University of Maine at Augusta, and is the former executive director of the Maine Arts Commission. He can be found athttps://davidgreenham.com/
