Henna hobby becomes artist’s livelihood
At first, GLEN BURNIE, MD. — henna was just Chelsea Stevenson’s hobby.
She was a teenager the first time intricate designs were inscribed on her hands, using a dye made from powdered henna plants. It was her name, painted in Chinese characters on the inside of her wrist, like a tattoo. But she later revisited and researched the art form as an adult in attempts to mimic more traditional designs on her own. She would drape her hand with patterned stains of flowers and geometrical shapes. It was something that kept her at ease, especially during hard times, she said.
“I put henna on as an act of self-care. I didn’t have someone who I could fall back on,” said Stevenson on a recent Tuesday in a Glen Burnie coffee shop. She recalled her days as a single mother living in Nebraska, when she couldn’t afford to splurge on manicures or visits to the hair salon. A few dollars, however, could buy her a cone of henna to decorate her hands and feet multiple times. “I had to find a way to console myself and encourage myself and ground myself during that time because there was no other option.”
But in 2011, during a trip to the grocery store with the last money she had in her bank account, henna became her livelihood.
“The (cashier) there was like, ‘Oh my God, what is that? I’ve never seen that. … It’s really beautiful. Would you do it for me? I want to pay you.’ ”
Stevenson agreed, and that day, her henna business was built.
Today, a married mother of three, Stevenson, 27, runs Cardamom & Clove Henna, an independent business in which she consults other henna practitioners, teaches henna classes to novices and professionals, and showers women of all backgrounds with ethereal designs, often including floral themes, all with an underlying focus on selfcare and safety.
This year alone, Stevenson said, she has served well over 650 customers with her services, priced by time, ranging from $30 for 15 minutes to $100 per hour. (Her most popular service, she said, is 30 minutes for $50, which is enough to paint the tops of two full hands or feet). Stevenson has taken her talents to other parts of the country, including Denver, where she hosted henna parties, and to Fort Worth, Texas, where her business took on the name Cardamom & Clove Henna, thanks to an aromatic teabased mix she blended with the two spices. Now, residing in Glen Burnie, where she moved to be closer to family, Stevenson, a biracial Muslim woman, said she has found her ideal clientele — women like her.
“I love working with minorities. That is the majority of my client base,” Stevenson said. “A lot of time they are single. They are mothers. They have a lot of circumstances within their personal life, which causes them to be forgetful about self-care, and so I speak to that. My goal … is to make sure that they leave their session feeling empowered and encouraged and with a little bit of henna.”
Cynthia Atkinson, 48, a mother from Fort Meade, said a henna session with Stevenson is like therapy, not only because of the slow-tracing movement on her body and the endearing results, but because Stevenson creates a safe space, whether it be at her home or at a local Starbucks.
“I just was sold. Sold. She impressed me with how much of herself she shared, versus the other artists that just kind of wanted to sell their work and not really kind of share their story and their background, so when I met her I feel like I had known her forever,” said Atkinson, who booked her first appointment with Stevenson nearly two years ago after searching for her online. Today, they’ve developed their own relationship, with Atkinson seeking her out whenever she needs a “time-out,” enlisting her to do elaborate designs on her shoulders and back for celebrations, like her forthcoming wedding anniversary, in which she’ll hide her husband’s name in a winding design that will cover her back.
Stevenson also hosts a “Let Me Crown You” initiative on her website, in which she accepts nominations for women who are undergoing cancer treatment or other medical conditions that cause hair loss. In turn, she decorates their heads with henna “crowns,” ornate designs on the scalp, sometimes imitating hair or jewelry, in hopes of making them feel empowered — all free of charge.