Some position themselves as general beauty salons, others do CVs and offer cellphone repairs, but all are united by their main pursuit: hair. “Here in Khayelitsha, we all do this work to survive.” Despite electricity siphoned for 100 metres, a lack of water access, and in addition, a fierce competition, the community formed by the hairdressers of Khayelitsha Mall is tight knit and joyous. The mall is home to a large collection of hairdressers working out of shacks, stalls, shipping containers, and the open air to keep their regular clientele feeling in style. And they do: one customer professes proudly as she gets her dreadlocks done, “I’m natural—black and natural.”

The competition between the hairdressers is only surpassed by the sense of support and community—customers’ children come and go, and conversation flows freely between the stalls. The deaf community in the area is supported by the stylists. All share a fierce desire to succeed, and a strong pride—many proclaiming, “I’m the best. I’m brilliant.” Against the dusty backdrop of crisscrossing wires and repurposed tin sheets, hairdressers are fighting busily to survive and support their families. “The business of the streets, it’s full of ups and downs. Every day we’re always busy, we cannot even get time to eat,” proclaims stylist “Skatta—aka Josh,” even as he accepts a new booking on the phone.

A special sense of black African pride is an undercurrent of the whole operation—“I love to do dreadlocks. Nowadays, in Africa, especially, people, they wanna remain natural. Especially Cape Town!” His customer pipes up: “With my dreads, I don’t have to wake up early to prepare my hair. I’m saving more time with this, I’m saving more money.” Other patrons peer out from crowns of braids, the ends of their hair being twisted rapidly by the smiling stylist behind them. 

More somber stylists profess, “One day we hope things will change. We like our job—we hate Khayelitsha Mall. That’s where we get the money to send our children to school.” But it’s clear that regardless of the location, what matters is the community of hair artists that has emerged. A stylists remarks, looking on as what can only be called his coworkers laugh and chat, “See how many we are? But we don’t fight.”