The Women's National Book Association promotes racist writer Linda Rosen

 No character arch, crafting, or any required elements that define this short story exist, and the imagery is racist stereotyped the black man as the "archetypal brute." Keep in mind Ms. Rosen is in a position of power. She holds four board positions, Vice President and Events Coordinator of South Florida chapter of the Women's National Book Association and Secretary of the Head Office in New York City, and the Great Group Reads coordinator.  She sets the tone. She is an example of what is acceptable and what is not, and racist literature apparently is welcome, not just in the WNBA of South Florida but in the WNBA as a whole.  Natalie Obando, the President of the Organization, and Julie Frey-The Communications Chair have issued their public support on this matter.  

 

 Through the Peep Hole," a short story by Linda Rosen, is a stereotypical portrayal of a man with "onyx shin" who has a "repugnant odor of armpits and cigarette smells,"  who may or may not rape the protagonist, a white woman. He breaks into her apartment moments after she has just finished eating a tuna fish sandwich. (Again with smell) Is this a fetish?

 

WORDS MATTER Ms. Rosen

WORDS MATTER WNBA

 It's sad that in this climate of Black Lives Matter that a writer would waste time with exclusionary hurtful and harmful words and post it proudly on her website. I guess she wants to make it clear where she stands, and she does. 

 Ms. Rosen is he is featured on the WNBA website and sponsored to give readings. In any other organization, she would be asked to resign from her board positions. But for some reason, the WNBA who feeds off grants to promote women of color has absolutely no problem upholding what a racist short story by Linda Rosen is. In fact, Great Good Reads f division, which the WNBA controls, encourages writers to be part of them with"voices no matter how distasteful," and that would include hate literature. 

The main character is a stereotype of a black man who, and I quote, has "a pungent odor of cigarettes, armpits, and sweat" and also attacks a white woman.

This is the archetype of the "brute man" who targets helpless victims, especially white women, and can be traced back to the writer Charles H. Smith in 1892. It is a firmly entrenched stereotype that "links a black man to danger and negative stereotypes hard Black Americans at every turn." (Scientific America Dr. Katie Milkman 2010).

 We meet the "onyx skinned" man outside her apartment in Manhattan, and he thrusts his way in because she didn't use the peephole to check first. As he pulls her inside, she thinks he might use a switchblade, has a gun, exa, or rape her because, in the author's mind, that is what big " onyx-skinned" men do to white women. They hang outside their apartments, waiting to assault them. 

 The story  fixates on the smell of the man; it "festers in her nose, cigarette, armpits tobacco, and sweat." The man with "a voice as low as his onyx shin"  enters her apartment like a "cat pouncing on a sparrow." (Was that a black cat Ms. Rosen?) And then low and behold, he realizes he's got the wrong white woman (they all look the same), and instead of leaving immediately he grabs her purse, hands it to her politely, and asks for 5 dollars for a cab -which would get him down two blocks in NYC. 

What if she only had credit cards? What would happen then?

After he leaves, she doesn't call the police; she starts cleaning the apartment from "the putrid smell( he left) penetrating my furniture, my clothes, my hair."

 So the "onyx-skinned" man who smells like "armpits" leaves an odor so "pungent and revolting" that she will remember that smell for a lifetime. Even if she gets Alzheimer's and doesn't remember a thing, she'll remember his smells.

The real question to ask this writer is why smells on a man with "onyx skin" are "putrid," but if we look a little deeper, I think this is a pseudo-sexual thing going on. The story is peppered with words that hint at the truth.  She "gulps down big breaths, "squats" in front of cabinets, sits "erect" her neck is "hammered" Her "carotid pulses" Methinks the lady promoted by the WBBA  doth protest too much!  

In any case, the "man with a voice as deep as his onyx skin" leaves to get a cab to find the right white woman to mug and maybe rape?  

(The publication that the author points to, The Dying Goose, cannot be found, and the publication Cracked the Spine had no search of her work... they should both be relieved) 

This author has made it very clear where she stands, and so does the WNBA of South Florida and New York City head office. 

 

WORDS MATTER