Both the blog written by pseudonymous author Riverbend and the graphic novel Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi are vivid examples of female narratives in the face of wartime and trauma. Though geographically and historically different, one was documented during the American bombings of Baghdad and the other during the Iranian Revolution and Iran-Iraq war, the two autobiographies confront westernization, desensitization of violence, and a theme that scholar Hillary Chute coins as the “procedure of memory” (97). Each narrative (either by post or by chapter) systematically presents an important event, turning point, or peek inside daily life; its holistic effect is an account of identity representation in traumatic and politically chaotic circumstances.

Riverbend writes her blog much like a novel, eliciting strong emotional and visual descriptions that are empathetic with broad audiences, whether or not they have experienced trauma at such extreme levels. Many of the posts deal with daily fears and frustrations accompanied by wartime, yet her explanations maintain a heavy cynicism towards both the Iraqi and American governments. A striking example of her criticism is outlined in a post titled “Liar, Liar” written in September of 2004, where she unabashedly denounces President Bush’s speech. She writes, “Imagine long nails across a chalk board, Styrofoam being rubbed in hands, shrieking babies, barking dogs, grinding teeth, dripping faucets, honking horns all together, all at once, and you will imagine the impact his voice has on my ears.” In this quote, and in the blog overall, Riverbend emphasizes her unique perspective as an educated, politically involved, feminist female Iraqi, effectively drawing an audience (likely Western) which identifies with a similar mindset but also which takes interest in the special context of her writing.

Comparatively, Satrapi’s Persepolis takes a similar political and feminist undertone but from the angle of a privileged, westernized young teenage girl. Her writing style within the graphic sphere focuses on Marji’s juxtaposed position in the largely oppressive and extremist society of post-revolutionized Iran; this is portrayed not by stark verbal narrative but rather by the use of black/white imagery and spacial representation of scenes and characters. Persepolis is not as fluid in daily events like Riverbend but instead depicts important turning points in Marji’s childhood and the effect that trauma has on her adolescent development of identity. On the first page of the book, Satrapi bluntly explains the first day she was forced to wear a veil to school: her emotions are emphasized by facial expressions and body positions, black or white backgrounds, and self-orientation in the frame in relation to reader viewpoint. Persepolis requires stronger visual insight of small but important stylistic choices than does Riverbend, creating a different but equally complex ambiance to the narrative.

Riverbend and Persepolis ultimately share strong similarities in author perspective. Both women are educated, young, politically aware and involved, critical, feminist to a degree, and most importantly, vocal in their rebellion. While Marji participates in riots and wears inappropriate clothing in public, Riverbend strongly speaks out against political inequalities and injustices by narrating the war from an insider perspective. Both blogs effectively draw audiences who are not in the same position, but who share similar critical views and who appreciate stories with familiar Western ideals.

This past week I visited the Belkin Gallery exhibit on the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. I found that the theme of “life narratives” was a particularly relevant one to consider while observing the work. It struck me that many of the artists chose to portray their work as a direct replication of the horrors of residential schools.These pieces effectively and precisely relayed experiences of victims to their audience, in short a broken series of stories that, as a whole, encompassed the disturbingly vivid abuse, suffering, and oppression of First Nations students over more than a century’s time.

The first work I saw was a replication of a classroom in a residential school. Rusty chairs and desks were tied together with rope, upon each rested a dark red apple punctured with a dirty metal hook. On black walls there was scratched in chalk a brief history of First Nations and European imperialists in Canada, along with numerous accounts of experiences in classrooms involving standardized curriculum, punishments, etc. The combination of harsh objects and brutal words created an aura overflowing with struggle and despair, themes which recurred throughout the gallery. There was also a piece that showed an actual bed and windows from a residence school, rusty and clouded, with an animal fur-covered cocoon-like object that rested face up on the bed. Instinctively it reminded me of a casket and a corpse, however not deserving of a funeral but lonely and forgotten. Assumedly the artist felt hopeless and morbid during his or her duration in residential school; abuse is presented not only by physical abuse but also in the form of neglect. Isolation, specifically cultural isolation, is a psychologically severe abuse; this piece represented both physical isolation and ideological isolation from forbiddance of practicing indigenous culture.

Similarly, the film entitled “Touch Me” addresses the psychological detriments of lack of love and care normally given in a family but which was absent in residential schools. As the indigenous woman washed the white woman’s hands, she began to cry and caressed her hands, intertwining them with her own. An individual is influenced dramatically by their upbringing, and attachment disorders are likely in brutal, restrictive environments such as the First Nations residential schools. Poor attachments and relationships in childhood act as a base and directly affect relationships in adulthood; the indigenous woman likely was still vulnerable from childhood abuse and longed for maternal touch. This film considered the permanent repercussions of residential schools on later adult life which is an additional element of a life narrative, as opposed to a reflection of the past.

These three works of art fit well into the theme of life narratives, as they directly relate either past or present interpretations of the horrors of residential schools. I noticed that these pieces all portrayed a story that the audience could read, watch, or even imagine in regards to the given aesthetic style. The gallery was an empathetically effective way of showcasing the trauma of residential schools because of its personal and emotional draws.