Hello there, Elma here :)
A lot of people know me for my work behind the chair, but not everyone knows the story behind why I do what I do.
Originally from the Bronx, NY, I grew up as the youngest daughter in a working-class, immigrant, multigenerational Muslim household that had to carve out its own place in the world. My parents came from Montenegro (former Yugoslavia) to NYC in 1975. I can’t tell you how much respect and gratitude I have for them, for real. They came from extreme poverty and limited education. Life was hard, and they did their absolute best with what little they had.
In the Bronx’s Little Italy, my father started our family business: a butcher shop that smoked meat, where people from our small community would shop. I adored him; I looked up to him. In Montenegrin, he called me “sine,” which translates to “son,” a term of endearment. I thought I was special! In our culture, women lived under extreme scrutiny; a woman’s hair carried meaning and identity. How you looked and how you acted could make or break your family’s reputation and survival. Well, that got old real fast for me.
Coincidentally, I was a queer child. Although I am cisgender, identifying as she/her, I lived a queer lifestyle by not adhering to the gender roles assigned to me by my family and society. I wanted to play sports with the boys, do yard work with my brothers, and race my older cousins on my bike. I was often the ringleader in our mischievous adventures, the one who got us into trouble. I strayed from the path that was laid ahead for me. Instead of marriage and family, I craved experience, independence, and sovereignty. I rebelled and looked different.
Since I was ten years old, I’ve had a not-so-well-known condition called trichotillomania, a body-focused repetitive behavior (BFRB) that causes recurrent urges to pull out one’s hair, leading to visible bald spots on the crown of my head. It’s not a choice; it’s an impulse-control disorder. Whether I wanted to be or not, I was different. From middle school to college, I experimented with new ways of dressing my hair, trying to cover it up. I was always changing my hairstyle or wearing wigs, setting myself apart as the girl with the “weird hair.”
Privately, I carried debilitating shame for my chronic uniqueness, not knowing anyone else like me. I began researching my condition and begged my mom to take me to a therapist in high school. I went to college at CUNY Queens, where I studied Women’s History and Nutrition, and was quickly radicalized when I met a group of punks who introduced me to DIY culture. I dropped out of college and eventually sought help from an outpatient clinic that did CBT and DBT group therapy in Manhattan.
My own struggles became the foundation for my approach to beauty: being inclusive, transparent, and healing.
Naturally, I couldn’t fit into traditional spaces or systems; I had to create my own. When I was younger, I wanted to go to beauty school, but my family insisted I go to college. After I dropped out, my mom was like, “...sooo how about beauty school?” Fortunately for me, straight out of beauty school I first learned curly haircuts in 2010 while apprenticing under a dry-haircut specialist. It was a formative and rare experience for most stylists at the time. I focused on textured hair because I felt there was a lack of understanding and a lot of prejudice around it.
Personally, I was someone with coarse, textured, curly hair, and no one ever curated a haircut that cared for my needs and desires as a client, let alone a whole salon focused on it. In the spring of 2017, in Bushwick, NY, Queen of Swords was born out of that fire: to make a space where people feel seen, where stylists can learn and thrive, and where beauty is treated as both art and care. Finally, a place where I could be my whole self, integrating all the parts of me I once had to sever in order to survive. Life was finally starting to make sense.