We are in a hair salon in Harlem, New York. Miriam (Bisserat Tseggai) is braiding Jennifer’s (Mia Ellis) hair. Hours have passed and there are still many more to go. Miriam is treating each step with care, and Jennifer understands that the task at hand is no small feat. The two at this point have shared pleasantries and snacks, and now Jennifer begins to ask the deeper questions. What else is one to do when sitting in the salon chair?
Miriam begins to open up about her past before moving to New York—her daughter back home in Sierra Leone, her unhappy relationship with her husband, and the passionate affair she had with a singer along the way. Jennifer gasps and giggles as the details spill out, and the audience witnesses a friendship begin to blossom—even if temporary. Tseggai and Ellis fill the scene with a genuine lightness that is impossible not to love as you giggle along with them.
Jaja’s African Hair Braiding is full of many ups and downs. Particularly with the backdrop of 2019, it’s hard not to notice the political undertones constantly threatening to bubble over. However, at the root of the story, we witness these beautiful relationships. Some of the women have known each other for years and others, like Miriam and Jennifer, have only just met. Playwright Jennifer Bioh creates the perfect liminal space for all of these friendships to shift and grow. The authenticity in the performances is simply phenomenal. Particularly when combined with the powerful writing, Chicago Shakespeare’s production is strikingly memorable.
The play takes place in Jaja’s, a Harlem salon that a group of West African women have learned to call home. The salon is known for their talent in hair braiding, and on this hot summer day, we become acquainted with their stories. As customers come in and out, secrets are shared, and bonds are tested. Over the course of the story, we begin to understand that the political uncertainties threatening this immigrant community are never too far away, and the relationships these women share are more important than ever.
Directed by Whitney White, the production features a fast pace and strong direction. Scenic designer David Zinn immediately welcomes the audience into Jaja’s through a highly detailed set, full of vibrant color (particularly when combined with the work of lighting designer Jiyoun Chang). Costume designer Dede Ayite enhances the brightness and brings specify to each character, highlighting the personalities of each. The play is so much about the relationships, and the artistic team cleverly centers the people themselves at the center of the designs. White’s ensemble showcases a heartfelt chemistry and spot-on comedic timing as the audience witnesses their journeys unfold.
As much as the production invites warmth and laughter, you may also find the material to be starkly relevant. The 2016 election had quite an impact on immigrant communities, and the women in the play are certainly no strangers to that.
Marie (Jordan Rice) is Jaja’s daughter and helps run the business side of the salon. We learn that she recently graduated high school at the top of her class, but is not quite sure what comes next. When Radia (Leovina Charles), an old school friend, visits the salon, we see Marie immediately jump into another version of herself. Conversation is bubbly and light. As Radia boasts about her upcoming internship in Milan, Marie maintains her smiles. There’s clearly a competitive streak between the two, and Marie isn’t ready to break so easily—that is, until Radia asks about her college plans. After fumbling through an answer about a gap year, Radia leaves, and Marie is left with the women of the salon, her family. We learn that Marie has had to use a fake ID to attend her school due to Jaja’s undocumented status, and therefore her next steps are unknown.
Rice handles the subtle tonal shifts within the scene with grace, and as she puts up her charming, warm mask to greet the next customer, your heart goes out to the character, wishing her realities could be different. Bioh’s use of comedy is clever, and while it might make some of these darker moments of reality easier to swallow, certainly does not take away any of their potency. Brilliant performances and smart writing make Jaja’s African Hair Braiding a production to remember. In so many ways, this is a story of the moment, and based on the overwhelming standing ovation that met this opening night performance, I would say the audience agreed with me.
Jaja’s African Hair Braiding runs through February 2 in the Yard at Chicago Shakespeare Theater, 800 E Grand Ave. Tickets run from $93 - $130 for performances running from Tuesday – Sunday. Running time is 90 minutes without intermission.
For more information on this and other productions, see theatreinchicago.com.
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