Speakeasy’s ‘Jaja’ Combines Comedy and Harsh Reality

MaConnia Chesser (center) and the cast of Jaja’s African Hair Braiding at SpeakEasy.
Photos by Nile Scott Studios

‘Jaja’s African Hair Braiding’ – Written 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 Aubrey Dube. Presented by SpeakEasy Stage Company. At Roberts Studio Theatre, Calderwood Pavilion, Boston Center for the Arts. Through May 31.

By Mike Hoban

On its surface, Jaja’s African Hair Braiding, now being presented by the Speakeasy Stage Company, is a bubbly slice of life comedy. Set in a women’s hair salon in Harlem that specializes in African hair braiding, the play offers a glimpse into the lives of a half-dozen West African women who work at the salon and their American customers. But bubbling just under the surface is a much weightier concern, one that has become increasingly relevant since the play debuted on Broadway in 2023 and has dominated recent headlines.

The entire play unfolds over the course of a sweltering July day. But it’s a special day. Jaja (MaConnia Chesser, who we don’t see until the play’s final scenes), the Senegalese owner of the salon, is to be married to Steven, her white, presumably American landlord, earning her a coveted green card. While the workers in the shop are mostly thrilled for Jaja, there are doubts about the relationship being sown by Bea (a fiery Crystin Gilmore), the gossipy elder braider from Ghana who feels that Jaja cheated her out of a partnership in the salon. Bea’s primary gossip partner is the ebullient Aminata (Kwezi Shongwe), whose own shaky marriage is a target of Bea’s harsh judgment.

Foreground: Crystin Gilmore, Dru Sky Berrian, and Catia. (Background) MarHadoo Effeh, Hampton Richards and Kwezi Shongwe

The shop is run by the firm but loving hand of 18-year-old Marie (an effervescent Dru Sky Berrian), Jaja’s daughter, who wants to become a writer, despite her mother’s insistence that she become a doctor or an engineer. She appears to be closest to Miriam (MarHadoo Effeh), a quiet 20-something woman from Sierra Leone who has left her husband after falling for a popular singer in her country, with whom she hopes to reconnect. Rounding out the braiders is Ndidi (Catia), a young Nigerian, the fastest and best of the workers, whom Bea accuses of stealing her customers, oblivious to the fact that she’s being surpassed by a younger and more talented practitioner. It’s a colorful cast of characters – literally, thanks to Danielle Domingue Sumi’s costuming and Janie E. Howland’s vibrant set – and they’re augmented by an equally colorful cast of a half dozen customers (all played by Yasmeen Duncan and Ashley Aldomado), including one who wants Ndidi to “make her look like Beyonce”.

Playwright Jocelyn Bioh (who also penned the brilliant School Girls; or, the African Mean Girls Play, also produced by Speakeasy in 2019), a lifelong braid wearer, has created a loving portrait of her experiences in these shops, and that genuine affection shines through. The characters of the shop women are well-drawn, despite their number, and the American customers, including some affluent and entitled types, are a stark contrast to the West African women, some of whom still can’t believe they are able to make a living from a skill they learned as children. (The one flaw in the play is that there may be too many storylines, but I’m not sure which ones would be cut.) And despite the sitcom setup, Jaja never feels like a sitcom. It’s a joy to watch the internal squabbles, the eye rolls and digs at the customers, as well as the multiple dance breaks, as the women go through their workday. The sobering and unexpected conclusion to the play packs a wallop and elevates the work far above mere entertainment.

Ashley Aldarondo, Dru Sky Berrian, and MarHadoo Effeh

The direction by Summer A. Williams (who also directed School Girls; or, the African Mean Girls in 2019) is flawless, as the multiple plotlines and sometimes frenetic pace never seem confusing. It’s a true ensemble piece, although the performance of Crystin Gilmore as a woman who can accurately spot flaws in others while being totally oblivious to her own shortcomings is a marvel. So too is Chesser’s Jaja, who explodes on the scene in her wedding dress and delivers a speech on the importance of immigrants to this country that should have been a campaign ad in last year’s election.

You’re not likely to see a more entertaining play this season, but you’re also not likely to be more moved. See it. For tickets and information, go to: https://speakeasystage.com/

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