When 20-year-old Muna Rahman welcomes clients into her Bronx family home, she asks them how they found her.
Many of her clients travel hours from Brooklyn and Queens. Occasionally, as far as New Jersey. Some discover her through Instagram. Others, by word of mouth. Impressed by her nail art, from the three-dimensional cartoon characters she draws to her freestyle sets, people flock to the Bronx to get their nails done by her.
Rahman is a home-based nail technician and artist. When she brings clients to her station, she lets them know that she is up for a challenge.
“I can do more than what’s on my profile,” Rahman says. “If you show me, I’ll do it.”
With an hour until her next appointment, Rahman attends our video call from her living room sofa while swaddled in a grey hooded sweatshirt. As a Bengali Muslim woman who wears the hijab, she uses the hoodie to cover her hair. Living with her parents, grandmother, and brother, she occasionally mutes herself to converse with a family member off-screen. When I apologize for the noise in my spot at the Hunter College library, she tells me that it’s okay. She is a student there too, in her third year of pursuing a degree in Biology, and knows how loud certain floors of the library can get.
Rahman recognizes how impersonal nail salons can feel. Nail technicians in salons do not always specialize in drawing artistic designs. They tend to shut down clients who ask for more than a single color, discouraging clients from detailing what they truly want. So, people choose an option from the menu available to them and may settle into silence as the technician takes the lead.
“In the salons, they don’t always…like…talk to you,” Rahman says. “If they don’t want to talk, that’s completely fine… I just feel like sometimes, when you’re not talking to the person that’s doing your nails, you’re less inclined to tell them how you feel about the service that you’re receiving.”
Rahman wants to create the designs that her clients envision. In her space, she tries to create an environment where people feel comfortable speaking up about what they want. And what they do or do not like.
After welcoming clients in, Rahman takes them to the station she built in her family’s basement. Two years ago, when she started teaching herself how to design nails, using videos on YouTube for reference, her father perceived her interest as fleeting. Hence, Rahman made an effort to prove her dedication by purchasing all of her equipment herself. To improve her skills, she practiced on herself, bestfriends, and siblings. She constructed makeshift fingers by gluing artificial nails onto popsicle sticks. Eventually, Rahman purchased a hand mannequin to practice on.
Her station now consists of a glossy black table with blue cushioned chairs. On the table, there is a propped up cushion for clients to rest their hands on, a collection of nail polishes, acetone, and other equipment Rahman uses to create and design nails.
As she prepares clients’ natural nails for artificial extensions, she tries to gauge the kind of design they are looking for. Some ask her to replicate art that they had seen on her Instagram. Others tell Rahman the colors and shapes they like and give her permission to freestyle.
Asked which design she is most proud of, Rahman excitedly brings out her phone to show her Instagram page. She loves them all. But if she has to choose, she picks a Toy Story-themed set. On one of the nails, she drew the character Woody by hand. The set took five hours to complete.
At the very end when Rahman thought it was finished, she discovered that the nails did not dry.
“I went to top coat it and all of the black just smears,” Rahman says, gasping at the recollection while holding her hand over her mouth in horror. “At this point, we’re both tired. We’re both hungry. The music was off.”
Still, Rahman redid the nail. She was servicing a client who often challenges her. And she looks forward to meeting the challenge.
“At the end, she really loved it and I was so proud,” Rahman says. “I didn’t know I could draw Woody on a small nail. Every time I do a set like that I’m like wow… I can not believe I just did that.”
As Rahman discusses her experiences with clients, one can not help but notice the affection she has for them and the affection they have for her. During appointments, clients play music, movies, or tell her about what is going on in their lives. Some vent to Rahman when feeling stressed and while working, Rahman squeezes their hand. In response, clients tease her.
“Some girls are like I haven’t held hands with somebody in so long,” Rahman laughs. “Like, girl, same!”
Most of Rahman’s clients are women of color in their early twenties, either attending college or working full-time. Her clients, who she offhandedly refers to as “her girls” are nurses, doctors, grocery store clerks, data analysts, and people working at the bank. They are high school students preparing for prom and graduation.
Rahman remembers the styles they get. She notices that those working in the medical field tend to get short nails unless they are about to go on vacation. Girls who type at their jobs may get long nail extensions even though they make typing difficult. Rahman thinks of her oldest client, a 32-year-old woman, whose nails she had last done before the client’s baby shower. Since then, the woman has moved to Pennsylvania. Rahman misses her, but understands.
To clients, Rahman is special, not only because of her work and her character, but also due to her success as a self-employed Bengali nail technician.
She says a lot of her clients come from Brooklyn to support, telling her “this is my first time seeing a Bengali girl being a nail tech.”
Despite the glowing support she has received over the past two years, Rahman did not begin to feel confident in her work until two months ago.
“Even though I was getting clients and still getting booked, I did not feel like I was good enough,” Rahman says.
While Rahman was confident in her art, she struggled with creating artificial nails. The process demands precision and knowledge of chemistry, which can only be gained through practice.
As a self-taught nail tech, Rahman found herself learning on the job.
“I would make my nails too flat or I would make them too bulky,” Rahman says. To improve them, she would attempt to file off the excess. Nervous about her application, she would avoid placing artificial nails at the cuticle.
Lacking confidence in her work, Rahman would often charge less than what her service was worth. “I was charging fifty, sixty bucks and my products were way more expensive than that,” Rahman says.
Simultaneously, Rahman struggled with balancing her responsibilities as a nail tech and student. A year ago, she was also working as a medical receptionist. It was difficult for her to carve out time to rest, nevertheless complete school work. Consequently, she failed a class. Rahman realized that she had to do things differently.
To improve the quality of her nails, Rahman consulted other nail technicians online. “I learned that it’s better to perfect the application as much as possible and then file as little as possible,” Rahman says.
She quit her job as a medical receptionist. To prioritize school, she books nail appointments around her class schedule and reserves time to study. To prioritize her health, she made Sundays her self-care day. Instead of working, Rahman bakes. Oils her hair. Puts on a face mask. She designs press-on nails for herself that she can pop off whenever it is time for her to pray. In order to pray, those who practice Islam, must clean their hands, face, and feet first.
“The water needs to be able to touch your bare nails, bare face, bare lashes,” Rahman says.
Once Rahman became more confident in her abilities, she increased her prices to adequately reflect how much the nails are worth. Rahman is still learning how to manage her time and overcome the challenges that her job presents. But, her passion for designing nails makes the challenges worth it.
After Rahman finishes designing clients’ nails, she applies a final coat of clear polish, giving them a glossy finish. In anticipation, clients place their hands in the nail dryer. Once enough time has passed, they carefully pull their hands out. They gasp. For Rahman, this moment is the most rewarding.
“Like I feel so happy right now, ” Rahman says. “The fact that I get money out of it – that’s like a plus – but that’s not why I started to do nails. I just really liked to do the art.”
In the days and weeks that follow, clients send pictures of their nails to Rahman. Praising her for how “fire” the nails look. Sharing how many compliments they have received. And thanking her for her talent. They let her know that they will make the hours-long commute to the Bronx again.
