I need to admit that I’m a white guy who knows next to nothing about beauty salons, especially those catering to Black women. But thanks to Ensemble Theatre Cincinnati’s current production of Jaja’s African Hair Braiding, a recent Broadway hit by Jocelyn Bioh, I’ve had a 90-minute lesson in the artistry, socializing and humanity of women who inhabit this unique universe. Bioh’s play is a funny, sassy comedy with a great deal of heartfelt contemporary relevance.
Bioh’s swift script runs from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. on a very hot single July day in 2019. The shop is designed by Brian c. Mehring with hot pink walls and a neatly tiled floor. Each stylist’s personal station is decorated to the hilt with the help of Shannon Rae Lutz, including images of elaborate braid patterns. Jaja’s has the air of a business that has flourished due to hard work. It’s stylish, but with a slightly rough edge — starting with the heavy-duty grate at the door on Harlem’s 125th Street, tucked beneath an overpass and framed by a view of buildings with fire escapes. The salon’s cranky air conditioner can barely keep up with the summer heat.
Jaja (Burgess Byrd) is a Senegalese immigrant who has established a successful business. She provides work for a handful of West African immigrants who are independent contractors — they step out onto the sidewalk to negotiate their fees — working in close proximity to one another, sharing stories and spats. Jaja doesn’t appear until late in the show because it’s her wedding day: Wearing an ornate white ensemble, she’s about to embark on a marriage of convenience to a white landlord, her ticket to legal immigration status.
Jaja’s fate affects her daughter Marie (Samantha Russell), a recent high school grad who actually runs the shop. She was the valedictorian of her class and has aspirations for further education. However, her immigration status — she came with Jaja to the U.S. as an infant — is an obstacle. While running the salon, Marie is busy buying supplies, refereeing arguments and fretting about her future.
The competitive relationships between the stylists are always on the brink of explosion, for countless reasons. Veteran Bea (Keisha L. Kemper) is often outspoken about how things should be run and quick to express her dismay when a newer, faster braider from Nigeria lands one of her longtime clients. Bea spends much of her time gossiping and commiserating with charming and opinionated Aminata (Candice Handy), whose wayward husband James (Samuel Stricklen) gives her fits. She is committed to scratch-off lottery tickets, and a modest win sets off a dancing celebration. This pair is often glued to a TV screen showing Nollywood soap operas.
Miriam (Brianna Miller), a soft-spoken Sierra Leonean braider, has a past, including a child still in Africa and a distant romantic relationship. She slowly reveals details as she works a day-long job of styling for Jennifer (Elexis Selmon), an aspiring African-American journalist. Bea and Aminata push Jennifer off to Miriam, unwilling to take on the arduous job. Ndidi (Jasimine Bouldin) takes on ambitious styles for clients with high expectations, including Chrissy (A.J. Baldwin), who wants to look like Beyoncé.
Actors Baldwin and Beasley (who uses a singular name) each portray three clients. In addition to the Beyoncé wannabe, Baldwin portrays Michelle, Bea’s former client, who gets anxiously caught in the crossfire when she books an appointment with Ndidi, as well as LaNiece, a DJ who likes to eat while she’s being styled. Beasley is hilarious as Vanessa, a rude customer no one wants; stuck with her, Aminata is surprised when Vanessa falls deeply asleep. Beasley also portrays Sheila, a loud-talking businesswoman, and Radia, a one-time high school classmate of Marie.
In addition to Aminata’s useless husband, Stricklen plays an array of distinctly different small-change entrepreneurs who frequent the shop. Franklin is a “sock man,” hawking colorful footwear; charming Olu sells jewelry and has a crush on Ndidi; and Eric, who sells DVDs and keeps his eye out for immigration trouble that might affect them.
This versatile cast is guided with directorial skill by Cincinnati theater veteran Torie Wiggins. She keeps the action ping-ponging between these vivid women and their hopeful customers. Kemper’s self-centered Bea is a standout, as is Handy’s ebullient Aminata, who keeps things light with dancing and a celebratory toast for Jaja’s wedding. The actors playing multiple roles are especially entertaining, donning an array of wigs designed by Tiara M. Jones and Aniya Williams. Jones is also responsible for the characters’ vibrant attire — especially Aminata’s vibrant orange-green shirt and skirt and Bea’s royal blue dress with African designs, as well as Jaja’s spectacular wedding ensemble.
The play is a satisfying slice of life that Cincinnati audiences might not know. These women work hard to make ends meet, struggling with the constant threat of immigrant enforcement, even more menacing today than in 2019 when the show debuted. But their spirited camaraderie, even in the light of momentary rivalries, reveals deep-seated caring and respect. Bioh’s script takes a dramatic turn at the end that underscores the firm, warm foundation behind these characters’ daily existence. That’s a lesson I’m very glad to have witnessed.
Jaja’s African Hair Braiding, presented by Ensemble Theatre Cincinnati, continues through June 22. More info: ensemblecincinnati.org.
This story is featured in CityBeat’s June 11 print edition.
This article appears in Jun 11-24, 2025.