This is the second special issue of the Journal of Graphic Novels and Comics dedicated to exploring the topic of sexual violence in comics. The first volume, published in June 2017, consisted of articles focusing on fictional comics, while this issue features four articles that analyse the non-fictional comics of Neelima R. Aryan, Pheobe Gloeckner, Joe Kubert and Joe Sacco. In the interim since the publication of the first volume, the ‘me-too’ movement has exploded into the collective consciousness, bringing with it a renewed spotlight on sexual violence in its many forms. We feel that the articles in this and the previous volume can contribute to a larger understanding of the nuances and problematics of this ‘me-too’ moment in a number of ways: by examining the ethics of representing sexual trauma; by questioning and challenging the terms of victimhood; and by mapping the larger cultural, social, political and national contexts in which sexual violence occurs.
We stated in the editorial to the first volume that, generally speaking, visual representations of sexual violence probe the boundaries of what is and is not ‘acceptable’ in the visual and cultural realms when it comes to representing difficult and traumatic subjects. We emphasised that the comics medium in particular can contribute in significant ways to these debates because the artists who choose to deal with this sexual violence must negotiate ethical and aesthetic strategies for representing difficult, even taboo, subjects. Tracing how they do so allows us to think through important questions such as: How to represent the pain of others in ways that respect the victims, that do not transform their suffering into mere spectacle (Sacco, Kubert)? How to depict one’s personal and private suffering for public consumption (Gloeckner)? What role does the larger, public culture play in creating the conditions for sexual exploitation and abuse (all the artists)? How do national and nationalistic discourses contextualise the effects and affects of images of sexual violence (Aryan)?
Laurike in 't Veld and Sandra Cox both write about comics where rape is part of the war machine, one form of violence among countless others. In addition, because they both analyse the works of artists who are documenting other people’s pain, both scholars pay careful attention to the ethics of representation, examining the various 'witnessing' techniques the artists employ to document this deeply traumatic experience. In 't Veld argues that Joe Kubert’s Fax from Sarajevo aims to strike a careful balance between depicting 'absence and presence'. Kubert, in 't Veld suggests, vacillates between these modalities as a strategy to both engage with representations of rape and to simultaneously avoid an overabundance of images of sexual violence. In other words, the imperative to document this atrocity is very pressing to Kubert for obvious reasons, but in doing so he runs the risks of transforming the victims' traumatic experiences into something sensational and voyeuristic. How he engages with this dilemma is at the centre of in 't Veld’s analysis. Cox’s examination of Joe Sacco’s ‘Trauma on Loan’ and Safe Area Gorazde covers similar territory regarding the ethics of representation, although she provocatively suggests that, in order to get the story out to a larger public, Sacco is self-consciously willing to risk that his images and narratives have the potential to re-traumatise the victims. For Sacco, the moral imperative to report these crimes, according to Cox, outweighs this risk. It should also be noted that, by close reading ‘Trauma on Loan’, Cox sheds light on sexual violence perpetrated against men, a sorely underrepresented area of sexual violence studies.
Michael’s and Varughese’s contributions are about sexual violence as it occurs in and around the home, one of the most common spaces or sites where sexual violence occurs. Michael looks closely at Gloeckner’s semi-autobiographical A Child’s Life and Other Stories, noting that some of the images of Gloeckner’s alter-ego Minnie, particularly ones where Minnie is shown in her bedroom or looking into the family bathroom, reveal intertextual clues that paint a larger portrait of the ways that art, literature and the media aestheticize the sexualisation of young girls and women. Thus, Gloeckner’s work can be read as a feminist project in two ways, according to Michael: Gloeckner both shows how the larger cultural sphere is complicit in creating the conditions for the exploitation and abuse of young girls; and, as a victim of sexual abuse herself, Gloeckner exemplifies the potential for self-representation as a form of healing and empowerment. In Varughese’s close analysis of Aryan’s ‘The Prey’, she shows that the comic only hints at the threat of sexual violence through Aryan’s use of synechdoche and pen work. Yet, read through the lens of contemporary India and particularly in the aftermath of the Dehli gang-rape of 2012, argues Varughese, ‘The Prey’ questions and re-considers nationalistic myths regarding sexual violence and visual representation.
While all of the contributions to this volume provide detailed and illuminating close readings of important comics works, from four different cultural spaces, they also stretch our understanding beyond the boundaries of the individual texts and show the ways that representations sexual violence are mediated and contextualised by Islamophobia; art, literature and media; the autobiographical impulse; feminist politics; methods for documenting human rights atrocities; national discourses; and much, much more.