Aja Barber

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.

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

“She did and does not present herself as a Mother in America. That performance was nothing but skanky weird. Get over yourself.” Signed, jerk on the Internet.

Warning: The author reminisces a lot in this piece and comes to conclusion that she has probably kept an unhealthy amount of clothing from high

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?

In fashion, the mantra is “never say never.” Never claim that you’ll never wear it, because that's the easiest way to end up eating your words, prancing about in a style you once referred to as “unsuitable.”

I watched again and again, as reporters asked President Trump news related questions, and repeatedly rephrased their questions, in hopes of receiving anything close to a credible answer. As he continued to discredit the press by telling them their questions weren’t “nice,” I felt more and more as if I was living in some bizarro universe where the President is actually a huge baby.

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

Welcome to #RavsWriters, an opportunity for you to get to know some of the outstanding human beings who fervently type to make Ravishly the aw

“I love my husband President Barack Obama and our children, Sasha and Malia,” ”