San Antonio braid artist celebrates decades of twisting African American hairstyles into city’s culture
After seeing her mother’s friend braid her older sister’s hair, Davette Mabrie took up the craft at 14. She’d braid hair for hours on the front porch of her family’s home in South Central Los Angeles.
“Sit still,” she’d tell relatives as soul music blared from the radio.
She cornrowed imaginative designs as Al Green crooned he was tired of being alone. She intertwined zigzags through hair as Aretha shouted for people to rock steady. She laced rows with beads as Marvin Gaye wailed of injustice that made him want to holler.
Now, every six weeks, LaShonda Hollins reserves the salon chair at Davette’s Braids and Locs on San Antonio’s Northeast side. For more than four hours, Mabrie retwists Hollins’ micro locs hairstyle.
“This is passed down from our ancestors,” Mabrie, 59, said. “It soothes my soul and takes my anxiety and stress away.”
Behind the red front door of the salon dotted with green ivy and ferns, wooden Afro picks from Africa line the walls of the home studio.
And what’s said behind the red door stays behind the red door. Mabrie offers clientele a safe haven during private one-on-one sessions.
For Hollins, a speaker, social worker, life coach and yoga teacher, the appointments are about care and support.
“She’s the one,” Hollins, 35, said. “This is a lifestyle change. You’re in for the long haul. I wanted to live the comb-free life.”
As Mabrie palm-rolled Hollins’ locs, they talked of the early 70s when neighborhoods looked out for one another and youngsters’ misdeeds would reach their parents before they left work. Rolling eyes at an adult meant, at a minimum, a tongue lashing.
Braiding hair has been Mabrie’s livelihood for more than 40 years. One of San Antonio’s leading braid artists, she advocates for African American hairstyles all races choose for function and fashion.
Mabrie is a living embodiment of her work, favoring shoulder-length locs that frame her face. She works six days a week by choice. She has more than 400 customers per year and is booked two months in advance. Forty percent of her clientele are men. Prices start at $120 and go up depending on the hair technique, length and texture. Mabrie doesn’t have a walk-in business. She’s required customers to put down a deposit since 1980.
“You have to schedule time for me to do your hair,” Mabrie said. “If you don’t show up, I lose. If you leave $50, then I know you’re serious.”
In 2020, Mabrie founded the San Antonio Natural Hair Society to support the natural hair-styling community. Her goal — teach others how to build a profitable venture with bigger, better clientele. The society offers certifications for natural hair braiding and different techniques. In 2015, Gov. Greg Abbott signed a bill deregulating hair braiding and the requirement to enroll in cosmetology school for a state license.
“They recognized that what we do is hair and art,” Mabrie said, “not hair and chemicals.”
Mabrie has spoken on behalf of braided hairstyles in Texas and across the nation. In 2017, CNN and the New York Times featured her input about the Army dropping its ban on dreadlocks. Many of her clients are active-duty military and veterans.
She credits forerunners for her success. Mabrie’s bible is the book “400 Years Without a Comb” by Willie L. Morrow. It discusses the history of Black hair care from enslavement to modern times. She studied with Lula Irving, who learned from Christina Jenkins, known as the first woman to weave hair in the United States.
Everything needed for Mabrie’s clients’ hairstyle is within reach. Disinfectants and an air purifier to sanitize the workspace. Moisturizers, oil sheen and spray to spritz twists, locs and braids. Clips, combs and brushes fill clear containers.
At 23, a seminar set her on the path as an entrepreneur. She earned $50,000 a year, but rent, phones, and light bills took most of her money. Saving wasn’t possible for Mabrie in the early 1990s, with the high cost of living in California and a recession that cost many clients their jobs.
In February 1990, Mabrie moved from LA’s Crenshaw District to her birthplace, San Antonio, where the economy suited her fledgling business. She stepped off the Southwest Airlines jet with $1,600 in her pocket, a cosmetology license and an unforeseen scenario — not many San Antonians knew about braids.
She styled hair for free so that people would spread the word about her afro-centric hairstyles. From 1992 to 1994, Mabrie worked between 80 and 100 hours a week. She waitressed, tended bar and worked at a temporary placement agency. For two-and-a-half years, she drove her daughter Pesha to school at 7:30 a.m., worked on customers’ hair from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m., took a break and braided until 1 a.m.
Mabrie didn’t have a social life. She was busy reaching her goals — a home, a new car for her mother and financial freedom.
The hours of work took a toll. She was admitted to Northeast Baptist Hospital with walking pneumonia and placed on a ventilator for a week. With a weakened immune system, she was out of work for two years.
Mabrie’s family and clients rallied to her side, pitching to help pay bills. Her late husband, Isaac Hughes, drove from Waco to care for her affairs — he couldn’t see her losing everything she had worked for.
Her return to work took time. Loyal clients would sit on Mabrie’s bedroom floor so she could do their hair. One of the reasons she founded the society was to offer braiders the same care other’s offered her in a time of need.
“Through positive thinking and being obedient in this life, good things will come to you,” Mabrie said.
A 22-year veteran of the Air Force, Vincent T. Davis embarked on a second career as a journalist and found his calling. Observing and listening across San Antonio, he finds intriguing tales to tell about everyday people. He shares his stories with Express-News subscribers every Monday morning.
She encourages new braid artists to pay attention to their posture and wear correct shoes. She learned at Los Angeles salons to take a break, stop and breathe. On an average day, Mabrie works between 10 and 12 hours on her feet. She visits a chiropractor once a week and a masseuse once a month.
Mabrie’s daughter, Pesha, 40, is also a master loc technician and braid artist. She recalled how Mabrie braided hair for free to build her clientele.
“I wish people would pay respect to the industry,” Pesha said. “I understand your cousin could do it, but don’t try to justify why you should guilt someone to pay less.”
Mabrie’s clients are on the same page with her about their hairstyle. She offers literature that explains what they are paying for and how to care for the style.
Hollins said she’s inspired by the braid artist’s quest to keep learning after four decades in the hair care business.
“She encourages me,” Hollins said. “She supports not just braiders, but the growth of her community and clients. You feel the care she has for you.”