Local StoriesMay 14, 2026

Conversations with Elijah Cohen

Local Stories

Today we’d like to introduce you to Elijah Cohen.

Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
Peanut: The Beginning of a Hairstylist, Healer & Storyteller

People know me today as Elijah Cohen — hairstylist, makeup artist, creative director, life coach, and image consultant. But before any title, before any platform, before any success, I was simply “Peanut.”

Peanut was the nickname given to me as a child growing up in Starke, Florida. Long before I understood purpose, I understood connection. Long before I touched celebrity clients or stepped into television and film, I learned that hair was never just hair. It was conversation. It was comfort. It was healing. It was therapy.

My very first encounter with hair happened around five years old. One of my mother’s close friends, Noel, was babysitting me while my mom worked. We sat together on the front porch, and I became fascinated with a Raggedy Ann doll. I couldn’t stop staring at the bright orange yarn hair. Noel noticed my curiosity and asked me, “Do you want to learn how to braid the doll’s hair?”

Excited and eager, I immediately said yes.

She took three strands of yarn and slowly began intertwining them. I watched every movement carefully. Almost instantly, I caught on. By the time my mother pulled into the driveway, something had awakened inside of me. That moment became the birth of my infatuation with hair.

In 1987, my family moved to Atlanta, Georgia. My mother, Lelia Cohen, enrolled in cosmetology school at DeKalb Beauty School. Every day she would bring mannequin heads home from class. To most people, they were practice mannequins. To me, they were masterpieces waiting to happen. In my little hands, they felt like life-sized dolls, and I became obsessed with creating.

I would rush home from school, throw my books down, and immediately pick up a mannequin head. Hair became my escape, my joy, and unknowingly, my gift.

But with that gift came judgment.

As a young Black boy fascinated by beauty and hair, I was often teased and called names like “strange,” “gay,” or worse. Some family members, siblings, friends, and even people close to me didn’t understand why I loved hair so deeply. I never understood why art could make people uncomfortable. Why creativity could offend someone.

So, at a young age, I learned to hide parts of myself.

But God always places safe spaces in our lives.

For me, that safe space was my grandmother, Lillian Cummings.

My grandmother lived in Starke, Florida, and she was one of the most respected women in the community. She loved God deeply, served people faithfully, and somehow understood me without needing explanations. She never judged my fascination with hair. She embraced it.

After long days at work, she would sit down on the red couch in the living room and ask me to scratch her head. To most people, it may have seemed simple. To me, it was acceptance.

She wore a Jerry Curl styled by the legendary Miss Betty Holly — one of the best Care Free Curl stylists in our community. I would climb onto the back of the couch, gently scratching her scalp while trying not to get lost in her curls. Sometimes I would accidentally leave her hair bigger than before, and we’d laugh about it.

Every evening around 6 PM, like clockwork, her rotary phone would ring. It was always her friend, Miss Beatrice Jackson. As a little boy, I would sit nearby listening to their conversations about life, faith, heartbreak, community struggles, jail, death, and survival.

Without realizing it, those conversations shaped me.

I was learning people.

I was learning pain.

I was learning compassion.

Most importantly, I was learning how to listen.

Looking back now, I realize my grandmother was the first person who saw my gift before I ever understood it myself. The God in her recognized something sacred in me. She became my guardian angel and one of the greatest influences on my life.

That was the beginning of Peanut.

As I grew older in Atlanta, my understanding of hair evolved beyond beauty. By ninth grade, I had become the unofficial hairstylist, therapist, and best friend to many girls around me. One of my closest friends, Cynthia, changed my life without even knowing it.

Every morning around 5:30 AM before school, I would leave my house, walk to her neighborhood, climb through her window, and help her get ready for school. While curling her hair, she would talk endlessly about life and her relationship drama with her boyfriend, Jayson.

I listened.

I advised.

I comforted.

And somewhere between curling irons and conversations, I discovered something powerful:

Doing hair was therapy.

The chair became a safe space.

Women trusted me with more than their appearance — they trusted me with their pain, their secrets, their insecurities, their grief, and their dreams.

Cynthia became my first real client, but more importantly, she became proof that my purpose was bigger than beauty.

In January 1999, my mother decided to move us back to Starke, Florida — a decision that would change my life forever.

Leaving Atlanta broke me. I left behind my childhood friends, familiarity, and freedom. By then, I had already been styling my mother’s hair for nearly two years. Microwave ponytails were popular at the time, and I had become incredibly skilled at them.

During the move, while riding in the U-Haul truck, my mother told me something I would never forget:

“I don’t want you doing hair.”

When I asked why, her response was simple:

“Because I said so.”

My heart dropped.

Once again, something I loved had to be hidden.

The first few months in Starke were difficult. I felt different. I dressed differently. I spoke differently. I quickly realized small Southern towns were not always welcoming to uniqueness. People stared at me because they had never seen someone quite like me before.

But even while hiding my gift, I never stopped studying hair.

I remember sitting in Miss Williams’ math class when a young lady sat in front of me wearing a fresh “Pump It Up” hairstyle. I became fascinated with the structure of it — the shape, the movement, the architecture. Since I wasn’t allowed to openly practice hair, I began sketching hairstyles in notebooks like blueprints.

Hair became science to me.

Art.

Architecture.

Expression.

Weeks later, Olan Mills photography was coming to town, and my mother needed her hair done for the photoshoot. After weeks of secretly studying hairstyles in the community, I finally had my opportunity.

The night before the shoot, I created my own version of the styles I had been analyzing.

The next day, my mother checked me out of school early for her appointment. While standing in the front office, several girls asked her where she got her hair done.

Without hesitation, she proudly replied:

“My son did it.”

That moment changed everything.

The next morning in homeroom, one of the girls announced to the entire class that I did hair. Everyone turned and looked at me. Nervous, embarrassed, but somehow relieved, I asked her how she knew.

She smiled and said, “Your mom told us.”

Then she complimented me.

For the first time, I felt seen instead of judged.

Part of me was terrified because now the opinions would come again. But another part of me finally felt free.

That moment was the beginning of Elijah Cohen the hairstylist.

But more than that…

It was the beginning of understanding that my gift was never just about hair.

It was about healing people strand by strand.

I’m sure it wasn’t obstacle-free, but would you say the journey has been fairly smooth so far?
Understanding identity was my biggest struggle

Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
I am a hairstylist, makeup artist, creative director, image consultant, and life coach with over 30 years of experience in the beauty and entertainment industry. I specialize in hair artistry, beauty transformation, branding, and helping people build confidence from the inside out. Throughout my career, I’ve worked with everyday women, public figures, television productions, music artists, and community leaders.

What sets me apart is my ability to connect deeply with people. For me, hair has never been just about appearance — it has always been about healing, confidence, and conversation. Since I was a teenager, women from all walks of life have trusted me not only with their hair, but also with their personal stories, grief, insecurities, relationships, and life challenges. The salon chair became a safe place where people could feel seen, heard, and empowered.

I’m most proud of turning what once made me feel different into my life’s purpose. Growing up as a young Black boy passionate about hair, I faced judgment and criticism, but I stayed committed to my gift. Today, I use my creativity and life experiences to inspire others, especially through mentorship, motivational speaking, creative direction, and beauty education.

I believe beauty is more than external appearance — it is confidence, healing, identity, and self-expression. My mission is to continue helping people transform their lives “strand by strand.”

Is there anything else you’d like to share with our readers?
Simply put I love what I do

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