Aja Barber

The entertainment industry allows abuse to flourish and allows abusers to hide behind fancy titles and big credits.

In 2015, to be a woman (and a black woman at that) among the general public means having to keep your defenses up.

When I help people clean out their wardrobes, the items I come across that hang in the back closet never seeing the light of day are usually pieces purchased in a frenzy — out of necessity instead of joy.

Whenever Lena Dunham starts trending on Facebook or Twitter, it’s become this thing where I suddenly morph into Angry Tyra.

I first met Darlene Howell McNerney through my sister.

I refuse to write some sort of inane rubbish about how sweatshirts are the new sweatshirt.

Recently I went through another round of unfriending on Facebook. It keeps things tidy, the arguments thoughtful and my head from exploding. This time around I just got rid of any white person that felt passionate about "certain political topics," but wasn't showing up for people of color, as we watch the meteoric rise of fascism in America and police violence. I’m not obligated to educate anyone for free, especially if they don’t appear to be absorbing what I’m saying or having the tough conversations on their wall with their peers.

How does one advertisement go so magnificently wrong, managing to center whiteness in the story of the battles of marginalized people, while playing down the horrific effects of police brutality and concluding in a white savior grand finale?

The TJ Maxx beauty section is lit right now, and I made you a full list of the products you can currently find on their shelves — basically, what I bought last Sunday.

Have we all been problematic in the past? Oh hell yes. I know I have.