Articles

The year is 2014. Sia’s Chandelier rules Billboard’s top 10. You’ve just purchased a wide-brimmed hat and printed midi skirt from NastyGal.com.

Even if you aren’t following Paulina Porizkova on Instagram, her name likely rings a bell.

It started maybe seven years ago. I’d wake up at one o’clock, two o’clock, maybe even three. Did I startle from the house settling? An alarm?

As you enter your mid to late 30s, you embark on a new chapter of preventative healthcare.

Twenty-three women set out to get a raise. They were outperforming their male colleagues — had been for years — despite unequal working conditions, lackluster promotional efforts, and performance bonuses nothing short of pathetic.

In one of my local Facebook groups, I often see women asking anonymously if they should leave a rocky marriage.

In the months leading up to my 45th birthday, I had been feeling confident about my professional prospects for the future.

Something was wrong with Mom’s brain. Last summer, she began taking a muscle relaxant for crippling arthritis pain and started acting bizarre.

A few years ago, my boyfriend left for work during a pounding rainstorm for his half-hour commute. I texted him an hour later to make sure he’d arrived okay.

On Saturday, my younger child will graduate from high school, just like so many thousands and thousands of kids have over the last few weeks.

The networking event sounded so good on paper. International young professionals getting to know each other in a bar setting? Sign me up!

As Black women age, sometimes it really feels like we’re getting jumped by racism. Don’t get me wrong, I love being Black and I’m embracing aging. But we experience the worst of so many health issues, and fibroids are up there as the biggest attacker.