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This Wig Designer Is Trying to Fix Broadway’s Hair Inclusivity Problem

Nikiya Mathis made Broadway history as the wig and hair designer for Jaja’s African Hair Braiding. Now, she’s on a mission to make all Black actors feel more cared for behind the scenes.
Nikiya Mathis in cream jacket with hoop earrings
Photography by Ambe J. Williams

At the Samuel J. Friedman Theater in New York City, the curtains have just opened on Jaja’s African Hair Braiding, a play set in a hair braiding shop in Harlem. I was curious to see how the characters would pull off the development of various hairstyles throughout the show: one Jaja’s “client” was having her hair styled in micro braids, which in real life is a laborious, day-long process. The play was only 90 minutes long, so convincing the audience that the customer’s hair was progressively being completed was no easy task. However, it was done beautifully and accurately thanks in large part to the show’s wig and hair designer Nikiya Mathis.

Mathis occupies many roles in the entertainment industry: She is also a TV and theater actor (she has a recurring role in the most recent season of Starz’s Power Book III: Raising Kanan) and the founder of AcTRESSES Design & Consulting. Through AcTRESSES, Mathis styles and creates wigs for actors, works with on-set hairstylists and consults with theaters about “how to have an inclusive space for actors of color,” she says. This can include everything from implementing new training policies to explaining what styling products to have on hand.

It was Mathis’s own disappointing experiences on set that led to the decision to start her consultancy. “There was a particular Broadway show,” Mathis recalls, “where I was the only Black designer. I definitely felt isolated and unsupported. And I walked into the theater every day with anxiety, every day trying to say, “Okay, I'm going to figure out, let me figure out how today can be better.’”

Of her time as a wig designer for that show, Mathis says, “It almost made me give up. It definitely burned me out. But there's a quote that says, ‘Pressure busts pipes or makes diamonds.’ That show squeezed me so tight that I thought I was going to break, and then it turned into something else.” As the wig and hair designer for Jaja’s African Hair Braiding, which just finished its Broadway run, Mathis was supported in her creative vision — and it shows. The styles featured in the play were incredibly intricate and sophisticated.

Brittany Adebumola (“Miriam”) and Dominique Thorne (“Marie”) in Jaja’s African Hair Braiding.

Photography by Matthew Murphy

I’ve written at length about the sacredness of Black hair, and watching this play got me thinking about how invalidating it must be for Black actors to have their hair ignored. In this interview, which is edited for length and clarity, Mathis and I discuss her experiences with hair on various sets as both an actor and designer and how she has used these experiences to inform her own work as a consultant.

Allure: As an actor, what have been some of your personal experiences with hair on set?

Nikiya Mathis: I've experienced people using hot tools that are too hot, causing heat damage on my hair. Me trying my best to figure out how to advocate for myself when it felt like the priority was, “Listen… we are just going to try to get this done. I don't really care about the health of your hair.” I've also experienced a lack of planning for my hair type. A lot of actresses that I know bring their own wigs to set to [avoid] those problems. Oftentimes I would bring a wig and allow the stylist to do whatever they wanted to do with the wig, or I would actually style it myself. I could not trust that the person knew how to work with my hair texture. I've had actor friends call me saying, “Hey, I booked this show, what do I do?” Or, “I booked this show. Can you get me a wig so that I can make sure that my hair is taken care of?”

As an actor, you are already feeling vulnerable.You're going to have to go out there in front of a camera, trying to do as few takes as possible. You want to do well. This is high stakes. You're getting paid a good amount of money in most, or some, regards. However [the audience] sees you is what's going to be marked down for history.

Feeling an [added] level of vulnerability, having to be at your best when you don't feel your best, that's a heavy load. I know there have totally been times where I've felt like I haven't been able to give my best performance because I was so in my head about how I looked, knowing that this is not the best representation of me.

Instead of my one job as an actor, I'm thinking about having to do somebody else's job and just on a certain level, unable to focus. And it's not always fair.

Allure: You’re having to multitask whereas other actors that aren't Black may not have to.

NM: Oh, 100%. They’re just reading their scripts, in their chair, not having at all to really worry about these problems. But I, instead of being able to just read my script, sometimes I have to be looking in the mirror praying that I can say the right thing to get them to pivot when they're doing it wrong and try and hope to have the courage to say the right thing and not be labeled a diva or a problem. It's a really heavy load.

Allure: Tell me about starting your consulting agency, AcTRESSES.

NM: I was in my first show, in New Jersey. The theater didn't have anyone who knew how to braid our hair. My castmate was going through it about having to travel to Brooklyn [to get her hair braided] from deep in Jersey. It took several hours to get to Brooklyn; to hop on multiple trains, then the subway. She was stressed because in the theater you only get one day off each week.

Her whole day was gone. And [the burden] wasn't just in the travel. It was in the load of having to find somebody to do her hair. And the only place she knew was Brooklyn. And I remember saying, ‘“Hey, do you want me to do it?” Like, girl, let me do it. I don't want you stressed out like this. I just found myself being in those situations every time I turned around. Since I have this ability to do hair, I wanted to take the load off.

It wasn't for money. It was always like, ‘Please let me gift you with this so that you will feel some sense of ease.’ It just felt like it was ministry on a certain level, especially when I would see how stressed out my friends were and I didn't have the same level of stress because I could do my own hair.

The challenging thing is that most people assume that Black women know how to do their own hair. And by and large, that's not the truth. Doing hair is like mothering. Black women do mother each other in different ways, whether it's like, “Hey, can I call you and tell you about this thing? Can I cry on your shoulder? Let me just brush your hair or oil your scalp or give you a massage because you're in [pain].” So many times, Black actors have come into my chair crying from whatever they've gone through on stage or [in life]. It's been a space of love and nurturing from both sides. Like I'm always talking about life and spiritual and emotional things. And I'm always getting fed. And what I'm grateful for is that the women whose hair I do want to feed me and I want to feed them and when we're done, we just feel good at the end of it.

Photography by Ambe J. Williams

Allure: What is it like to be on a set where Black actors are cared for by crew who are competent in our hair care?

NM: I mean, I don't know how many times an actor has said, “Thank you. I'm so glad it was you,” or, “I've never had an experience like this. I've never been cared for like this,” which is crazy because the history of Broadway in particular is years long and to be in the new millennium and still have people saying that is a travesty.

I'm grateful that I'm able to help. But it also is just tiring and annoying, because what I also know is that there are those who are still looking at Black women's hair and their hair needs as a problem. And that's the thing that's heavy.

And I'm also dealing with people who have been in this business a long time who look at me like, ‘Who do you think you are? You don't know anything. You don't belong in this space,’ and treat me like I'm a problem and want to push me out and have undermined my authority.

I remember I did baby hair on a wig in one show, and the wig supervisor [kept saying]. “What is this that she has going on here? Who does this?” What really was at play is that he did not know how to maintain or recreate this baby hair [himself]. There has been this narrative of, “Oh my gosh, you use hot tools. I don't know any other wig designer who uses hot tools.” All of these things, just to diminish and undermine me and ultimately make me feel like I'm not enough.

Allure: I saw Jaja's and it was an incredible visual experience. The hair was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Had you had experiences like that before?

NM: No, I had not. When Jocelyn [Bioh, the playwright] and Whitney [White, the director] asked me to do it, I was ecstatic. A few years ago Jocelyn had mentioned that she was doing a workshop of a play that was set in an African braiding salon and in my heart, I was like, ‘Oh my God, please pick me!’ And when it came along, I was just so freaking excited. They helped to start a new conversation around hair and the importance of hair in theatrical design. What we also know is that there's no Tony Award for wig design; costume designers would get the Tony Award. But of course, hair is a part of that. If the actor has an amazing costume, but is walking around with a wig cap on, that looks a mess.

Lakisha May (“Vanessa”), seated, and Nana Mensah (“Aminata”)

Photography by Matthew Murphy

Hair is a part of the whole vision. So it's been awesome to be a part of spearheading that and putting a light on it. It was fun to have a crew of Black people. We're braiding, we're styling, we're building wigs and we're just having fun with each other.

MTC [Manhattan Theatre Club] gave me a studio to work out of across the hall from their rehearsal studio. The actors could come into my studio, say hi. We also did braiding tutorials to teach the actors how to braid like real braiders [on stage]. Hair by Susy was our consultant for that.

I would also run across the hall and pop into rehearsals in order to see what they were doing, to see if it made sense with what I was constructing, and Whitney would often come into the room and say, “Hey, this is what we're doing. What are you doing?” We were really working together to construct what Jaja’s was in terms of the hair and wig choreography of the whole thing.

Allure: I imagine that was a really affirming experience.

NM: That is an understatement in terms of how I felt. I felt held. To come into a space where everyone trusted me, where it wasn't a question of proving [myself]...

I had never done this before, but they trusted that my heart and my intent was going to move the story forward and that we would figure it out some way and somehow the actors trusted me. Theater is always hard, but if it's gonna be hard, let it also be beautiful. Let us also hold each other and collaborate in a real way. And Jaja’s was that. I think it was a labor of love for everybody.

Allure: How do you feel the entertainment industry is doing in terms Black hair representation overall?

NM: I think we have made a huge leap in the last few years, but in terms of overall, we're still miles behind, because the truth of the matter is we're still fighting for the natural hair certificate to be part of the criteria for getting into the [International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees] union. If you look at the union application, it says that you need a cosmetology license, and it specifically says that natural hair licenses are not part of the criteria. So when you read that, what I interpret as is being told that the understanding and knowledge of my specific hair is not worth being acknowledged.

In cosmetology schools, in terms of passing the state board, you don't have to know about doing natural hair. [Ed. note: Shortly after this interview was conducted, it was announced that a new law in New York State would require all cosmetology students to learn to style textured hair, though there is currently no legislation on a national level.]

Ultimately in cosmetology school, you learn to do roller sets, you learn to do some chemical processes, but you are not learning how to care for and style textured hair unless you're going to a school where they happen to have a workshop that teaches you that — but for the most part most people I’ve talked to have not had that experience at all. So if cosmetology school is not teaching you how to do natural hair and we know that there are an abundance of Black actors, that’s a disconnect. You're saying that it doesn't matter if hair stylists know how to do their hair or not. What is it saying about the worth of Black actors?

I have a friend, [fellow hair designer] Jennifer Lord, who is on the forefront of advocating to get the natural hair certificate to be part of the criteria to get [into the union]. I'm excited about that and excited to see that work being done. We now need to start really hiring people who are equipped to deal with all of the hair needs. And if you don't, then now we're looking at you, wondering why you are creating what is then an unsafe space or an inequitable space.


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