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Becoming Unbecoming
Its 1977 and Una is twelve. A serial murderer is at large in West Yorkshire and the police are struggling to solve the case despite spending more than two million man-hours hunting the killer and interviewing the man himself no less than nine times.As this national news story unfolds around her, Una finds herself on the receiving end of a series of violent acts for which she feels she is to blame.Through image and text Becoming Unbecoming explores what it means to grow up in a culture where male violence goes unpunished and unquestioned. With the benefit of hindsight Una explores her experience, wonders if anything has really changed and challenges a global culture that demands that the victims of violence pay its cost.
207 pages, Paperback
First published September 30, 2015
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 627 reviews
May 23, 2016
I have never heard of Una before in my life, but Becoming Unbecoming is easily one of the most important and thought-provoking graphic memoirs I have ever read. On the one hand, it is the unflinching personal account of the sexual/gender violence cartoonist Una had to endure while growing up in Yorkshire, England, during the 1970s and 80s. On the other, it is also the furious yet clear-headed outcry against a deeply sexist culture that produces gendered violence and allows it to flourish by blaming, shaming and silencing the victim. The story's micro- and macro-dimensions are balanced beautifully, and the result is a reading experience that is every bit as empowering as it is devastating. Highly recommended to anybody interested in alternative graphic novels!
February 21, 2016
Una's Yorkshire memoir of her own sexual violence, set against the seventies story of the Yorkshire "Ripper," Peter Sutcliffe, a serial killer who killed 13 women from 1975-1980. The police spent more than two million man-hours failing to solve the case, including interviewing the killer himself nine times before they finally figured it out. Una, an artist and academic and comics creator, worked seven years on this book in a broader societal sense to explore why it is the (male) police had so tragically failed. The sensational focus of the investigation involved their theory that the killer was only interested in prostitutes and was some exotic sui generis killer, ala Jack the Ripper, where the media story overwhelmed concern for the women themselves, but in the process they failed to see right in front of them Sutcliffe, an apparently "normal" family man, as they blamed the victims for their assumed sexual behavior. In a sense, the police failure was a larger societal blindness to gender violence. They couldn't see how normative it really was.
Una herself was the victim on several occasions of various kinds of sexual violence growing up, and grew up "slut-shamed" for these acts as brazen boys and men bragged she had been compliant and complicit in her assaults, blamed and isolated by boys and girls, blamed for her victimhood. This difficult memoir talks of the silencing of sexual violence that she experienced and still goes on today across the world, the world culture as she sees it only slightly changed in the past fifty years.
Una depicts her story tastefully, with grace and subtley. I found it compelling and heartbreaking and not too graphic, in case you are worried about that. She writes about the silencing of sexual victims everywhere through her own story and in the names of all the women killed by Sutcliffe that were themselves blamed and silenced in so many ways.
The text is a thoughtful work of art and reporting and memoir, with a range of illustration styles and textures, sometimes very spare where the images say what words cannot (like the cover page image of a girl with an empty word balloon, so powerful), and on some pages she is the documentarian, the historian, the feminist activist, using clippings from Yorkshire newspapers of the time, and lots of text to help her analyze the social phenomena of gender violence. I prefer the spare images to the teaching pages, but both are necessary to her project, and I get that. The images alone help us feel. But we need background to help us know how to rethink.
One story she tells of one Yorkshire resident to help make her case about how widespread this phenomenon is is the tale, now internationally known, of Jimmy Savile, the popular television celebrity now revealed as a long time multiple rapist and pedophile over several decades, who like Sutcliffe was seen as a "good guy," whose regular guests over decades included many members of the local police. Isolated case? Maybe. But Una sees the Savile story as evidence of a greater whitewashing that silenced the victims of his sexual assaults, like so many other similar victims worldwide.
So Becoming Unbecoming is both academic (she includes footnotes and a helpful afterword, and lots of references) and artistic (she sees some of the images of her own painful experience working on an unconscious, symbolic level, some of which she only alludes to, doesn't/can't yet talk about specifically).
The book closes with full page images of what I take to be the 13 murdered Yorkshire women as they might be today, with facing blank pages so there is space for contemplation. What would their lives be like had they not been killed? What would our memories of them be like if the police and press had and wider culture had not blamed them for the very violence that was perpetrated on them? It's an amazing, powerful conclusion, with more space for reader reflection than didactic answers, finally. It leaves the tragic story for you to consider, it humanizes the victims so poetically.
Una herself was the victim on several occasions of various kinds of sexual violence growing up, and grew up "slut-shamed" for these acts as brazen boys and men bragged she had been compliant and complicit in her assaults, blamed and isolated by boys and girls, blamed for her victimhood. This difficult memoir talks of the silencing of sexual violence that she experienced and still goes on today across the world, the world culture as she sees it only slightly changed in the past fifty years.
Una depicts her story tastefully, with grace and subtley. I found it compelling and heartbreaking and not too graphic, in case you are worried about that. She writes about the silencing of sexual victims everywhere through her own story and in the names of all the women killed by Sutcliffe that were themselves blamed and silenced in so many ways.
The text is a thoughtful work of art and reporting and memoir, with a range of illustration styles and textures, sometimes very spare where the images say what words cannot (like the cover page image of a girl with an empty word balloon, so powerful), and on some pages she is the documentarian, the historian, the feminist activist, using clippings from Yorkshire newspapers of the time, and lots of text to help her analyze the social phenomena of gender violence. I prefer the spare images to the teaching pages, but both are necessary to her project, and I get that. The images alone help us feel. But we need background to help us know how to rethink.
One story she tells of one Yorkshire resident to help make her case about how widespread this phenomenon is is the tale, now internationally known, of Jimmy Savile, the popular television celebrity now revealed as a long time multiple rapist and pedophile over several decades, who like Sutcliffe was seen as a "good guy," whose regular guests over decades included many members of the local police. Isolated case? Maybe. But Una sees the Savile story as evidence of a greater whitewashing that silenced the victims of his sexual assaults, like so many other similar victims worldwide.
So Becoming Unbecoming is both academic (she includes footnotes and a helpful afterword, and lots of references) and artistic (she sees some of the images of her own painful experience working on an unconscious, symbolic level, some of which she only alludes to, doesn't/can't yet talk about specifically).
The book closes with full page images of what I take to be the 13 murdered Yorkshire women as they might be today, with facing blank pages so there is space for contemplation. What would their lives be like had they not been killed? What would our memories of them be like if the police and press had and wider culture had not blamed them for the very violence that was perpetrated on them? It's an amazing, powerful conclusion, with more space for reader reflection than didactic answers, finally. It leaves the tragic story for you to consider, it humanizes the victims so poetically.
September 19, 2015
In Autumn 2014 I first came across the so-called “Women against feminism” campaign on the internet. My reaction to it included confusion, outrage and outright anger! Women? Against feminism? But then I started to wonder what these women think feminism is? Is it an understanding of the word which has been so regularly tainted by (often male) ridicule? Was man-hating, hairy arm pits and Germaine Greer mentioned?
I wish I could send Una’s book to all those women who publically stated they don’t need feminism. In fact, I would like all women, and all men, to read Becoming Unbecoming. I want this book to fall into the hands of the 12 year old girl who really hates having her bum pinched by her uncle but feels unable to move away. I want the mothers and not-mothers and grandmothers and teachers to read this book to remind them of their role in changing the world of girls and women. I want the fathers and not-fathers and grandfathers and other male role models to also read this book and become part of the change needed in men's attitudes and behaviours towards women.
Becoming Unbecoming is one of those great books that make you angry, that make you look (REALLY look) at the world around you and give you the desire to raise your voice.
Feminism is much more than a discussion about equal pay and how many women sit in the shadow cabinet, it reflects on the question why women are judged so much more readily (and more negatively), why the fault is so often looked for in the (female) victim of sexual violence, why female voices are so often ignored.
Read this book. Even if graphic novels aren’t your thing. It will make you think. And it’s a thing of beauty. I am planning to read it again and again to remind me that while things aren’t as bad as they once were, there’s still a long way to go for men and women to be truly equal – in the eyes of the law and in the each of each other.
I wish I could send Una’s book to all those women who publically stated they don’t need feminism. In fact, I would like all women, and all men, to read Becoming Unbecoming. I want this book to fall into the hands of the 12 year old girl who really hates having her bum pinched by her uncle but feels unable to move away. I want the mothers and not-mothers and grandmothers and teachers to read this book to remind them of their role in changing the world of girls and women. I want the fathers and not-fathers and grandfathers and other male role models to also read this book and become part of the change needed in men's attitudes and behaviours towards women.
Becoming Unbecoming is one of those great books that make you angry, that make you look (REALLY look) at the world around you and give you the desire to raise your voice.
Feminism is much more than a discussion about equal pay and how many women sit in the shadow cabinet, it reflects on the question why women are judged so much more readily (and more negatively), why the fault is so often looked for in the (female) victim of sexual violence, why female voices are so often ignored.
Read this book. Even if graphic novels aren’t your thing. It will make you think. And it’s a thing of beauty. I am planning to read it again and again to remind me that while things aren’t as bad as they once were, there’s still a long way to go for men and women to be truly equal – in the eyes of the law and in the each of each other.
February 15, 2018
Becoming Unbecoming is one of the best informative graphic novel I came across. It provides a lot of useful facts about sexual assaults, misogyny, and victim blaming. I highly recommend this to all, particularly to women, as this will enlighten everyone on how society sometimes perceived victims to be also at fault.
It also shows on how the suspect lives or acts as if they haven’t done anything wrong that fools everyone especially the authorities. If ever you see a copy of this, don’t lose the chance to get it because it’s really worth it.
Thanks to Arsenal Pulp Press for the reading copy of this.
It also shows on how the suspect lives or acts as if they haven’t done anything wrong that fools everyone especially the authorities. If ever you see a copy of this, don’t lose the chance to get it because it’s really worth it.
Thanks to Arsenal Pulp Press for the reading copy of this.
May 15, 2019
The author-artist Una would be the first to tell you that yes, she has an agenda in this memoir.
We follow the main character from childhood to teen years as she suffers bullying and molestation and tells no one.
The art is quiet, powerful, and frequently ironic. For example, see the cover art which shows our main character literally hanging on to her silence for dear life. This is an elegant and sincere indictment of social shaming of women and male violence against them, including researched evidence to back up the author's arguments.
Both the violence and the shaming are ironically underscored by headlines and news clippings from the Yorkshire Ripper case of the 1970s. As our main character reaches her teen years, her local paper carries culture-incriminating stories, such as the June 1977 column which notes that the Yorkshire killer's "crusade" against women has "gone horribly wrong" since the killer has "mistakenly" killed an "innocent victim" (in this case, a virginal 16-year-old).
This and other contemporary accounts imply the other victims (all of them women) deserved their fate, and author Una lays out direct quotes to show the full extent of firmly entrenched, casual misogyny.
Not to be missed.
We follow the main character from childhood to teen years as she suffers bullying and molestation and tells no one.
The art is quiet, powerful, and frequently ironic. For example, see the cover art which shows our main character literally hanging on to her silence for dear life. This is an elegant and sincere indictment of social shaming of women and male violence against them, including researched evidence to back up the author's arguments.
Both the violence and the shaming are ironically underscored by headlines and news clippings from the Yorkshire Ripper case of the 1970s. As our main character reaches her teen years, her local paper carries culture-incriminating stories, such as the June 1977 column which notes that the Yorkshire killer's "crusade" against women has "gone horribly wrong" since the killer has "mistakenly" killed an "innocent victim" (in this case, a virginal 16-year-old).
This and other contemporary accounts imply the other victims (all of them women) deserved their fate, and author Una lays out direct quotes to show the full extent of firmly entrenched, casual misogyny.
Not to be missed.
November 29, 2018
Lei è Una.
Una vita fra tante. Un’adolescente, una ragazza, una donna, una figlia, una femmina.
Nel corso degli anni ‘70, quando l’Inghilterra, lo Yorkshire in particolare, è sconvolta da una catena di femminicidi ad opera di colui che viene ribattezzato come “Jack Lo Squartatore”, Una subisce una violenza sessuale.
Tra il silenzio in cui, all’inizio, si chiude, e il supporto di psicologi e terapeuti che poi la affiancheranno uno dopo l’altro, per tanto tempo, nessuno sembra veramente capire quel vuoto, inafferrabile, che pian piano la consuma da dentro, distruggendola.
“Mi ascoltavano, ma non sembravano sentire. Scrollavano le spalle e andavano avanti con quello che stavano facendo. Intanto, l’uomo continuava a sfregiarle e a ucciderle, una alla volta, proprio sotto il loro naso”.
L’uomo, la minaccia col coltello in mano, l’ombra. Che per tutti è lo Squartatore dello Yorkshire, per Una è l’uomo che l’ha violentata e insieme anche lo Squartatore, entrambi. Attorno a lei una cortina di finto interesse che fa male, che la fa sentire ancora più sola e disperata.
E’ solo grazie al caso che, anni dopo, la polizia arresterà lo Squartatore, dopo che per anni e anni alcune preziose e basilari testimonianze di altre donne a lui scampate non sono state prese in considerazione perché sì, “un po’ queste se la sono cercata!” e poi alcune erano addirittura (addirittura!!) prostitute, “e quindi….”. E quindi?!
Questa è la storia di Una ma anche di tutte le altre. Una graphic novel con un tratto semplice ma di straordinario impatto emotivo. Straziante, diretta, mi ha disturbata, mi ha fatto arrabbiare, mi ha fatto venire voglia di urlare.
Tra l’altro è una coincidenza che l’abbia letta proprio oggi, nella giornata mondiale contro la violenza sulle donne, dopo essermene impossessata un paio di settimane fa, grazie al prestito interbibliotecario. Il suo messaggio è imprescindibile e dovrebbero esserci più libri che lo urlano al mondo, perché niente può giustificare un atto di violenza, fisica o psicologica, nei confronti di qualsiasi donna, ragazza, madre, prostituta che sia, perché no, non è normale che sia normale.
Una vita fra tante. Un’adolescente, una ragazza, una donna, una figlia, una femmina.
Nel corso degli anni ‘70, quando l’Inghilterra, lo Yorkshire in particolare, è sconvolta da una catena di femminicidi ad opera di colui che viene ribattezzato come “Jack Lo Squartatore”, Una subisce una violenza sessuale.
Tra il silenzio in cui, all’inizio, si chiude, e il supporto di psicologi e terapeuti che poi la affiancheranno uno dopo l’altro, per tanto tempo, nessuno sembra veramente capire quel vuoto, inafferrabile, che pian piano la consuma da dentro, distruggendola.
“Mi ascoltavano, ma non sembravano sentire. Scrollavano le spalle e andavano avanti con quello che stavano facendo. Intanto, l’uomo continuava a sfregiarle e a ucciderle, una alla volta, proprio sotto il loro naso”.
L’uomo, la minaccia col coltello in mano, l’ombra. Che per tutti è lo Squartatore dello Yorkshire, per Una è l’uomo che l’ha violentata e insieme anche lo Squartatore, entrambi. Attorno a lei una cortina di finto interesse che fa male, che la fa sentire ancora più sola e disperata.
E’ solo grazie al caso che, anni dopo, la polizia arresterà lo Squartatore, dopo che per anni e anni alcune preziose e basilari testimonianze di altre donne a lui scampate non sono state prese in considerazione perché sì, “un po’ queste se la sono cercata!” e poi alcune erano addirittura (addirittura!!) prostitute, “e quindi….”. E quindi?!
Questa è la storia di Una ma anche di tutte le altre. Una graphic novel con un tratto semplice ma di straordinario impatto emotivo. Straziante, diretta, mi ha disturbata, mi ha fatto arrabbiare, mi ha fatto venire voglia di urlare.
Tra l’altro è una coincidenza che l’abbia letta proprio oggi, nella giornata mondiale contro la violenza sulle donne, dopo essermene impossessata un paio di settimane fa, grazie al prestito interbibliotecario. Il suo messaggio è imprescindibile e dovrebbero esserci più libri che lo urlano al mondo, perché niente può giustificare un atto di violenza, fisica o psicologica, nei confronti di qualsiasi donna, ragazza, madre, prostituta che sia, perché no, non è normale che sia normale.
Read
May 23, 2016Stunning graphic novel, addressing some very tough issues with clarity and compassion. Haunting, articulate, brave and intelligent. All girls should read this. All women will understand it.
October 26, 2016
In a book addressing Una's own struggle to cope with sexual predation and social exclusion, and about a large-scale cultural acceptance of, no, support of male violence against girls and women, Una opens the book with a sobering dedication: "Dedicated to all the others." Who are all these "others"? Perhaps victims of rape and assault (the numbers are staggering), or a little more broadly, victims of a toxic patriarchal culture that breeds toxic and predatory masculinities. Maybe girls and women who are demonized and brutalized for having a body and for having a soul; for owning desire and owning the absence of desire; girls and women who are blamed for all the harm done to them and then ostracized by their communities, a terrible, destructive punishment. A crime.
The dedication is followed by a bleak image, a simple line drawing on a black and white page with textured grays, of a woman trudging up an impossible hill carrying an ordeal of baggage over her shoulder. This image connects back to the cover, where this same girl holds on to the same bag, kind of in the shape of a word-balloon, but this time it carries her, pulls her up away from a wintry or parched earth, the bare trees, and it is unclear if this is a form of escape or abduction or both. Or perhaps a metaphor for withdrawl.
How much of one's self and one's world does a person have to give up, how far above the trees does one have to be drawn, in order to get any distance and safety? Particularly in a world in which women's lives are often valued so little and violence toward girls and women is accepted and unaddressed.
This is one line of exploration in "Becoming Unbecoming." It's a book not about acts of violence so much as about cultures of violence, and while some of this violence is physical, much of it is communal and emotional.
Perhaps it goes without saying this book takes one on a sad, hard journey. It's kind of a lonely book. A beautiful, terrifying, instructive book. One that talks about a culture of brutality without offering the kind of narrative of suspense. This is not a book whose violence is a kind of dessert, with suspense and thrills. I am fascinated by and appreciative of books that have that kind of defiance against an easily consumable and exploitable story. This is a quiet graphic memoir and a graphic history of a particular time and place, the '70s in West Yorkshire, where a serial killer is murdering women and nobody seems to care very much, and where Una, the author and narrator, is trying to survive childhood, make sense of her cultural world, and make her way to adulthood while grappling with enormous pressures and challenges.
The second page of the book is a two page spread of a textured gray landscape, perhaps a field, or the trees from so far away and in such a mist, they don't come into focus. The landscape is befogged or blurred. There is no apparently clear sky, but scattered clouds float by. Toward the center of the top of the page, in a small cloud, rest ta few words, disembodied: "My name is Una."
Turn the page and the trees from the cover are back in all their bleak clarity, and above their bare branches float more clouds filled with Una's words. This page is all about music. Music Una was listening to in the seventies, gradually building the context.
And on the page after that, the left hand panel, this grounding in the culture of the seventies continues. Male and female musicians people the page, near-caricatures that are nevertheless not far from reality. And on the right-hand page, Una herself holding a guitar, the image a kind of paper-doll cut-out, and the words, still disembodied: "I loved Val Doonican. He had a song called Walk Tall. He told me to walk straight and look the world right in the eye. And that's what I tried to do."
The next page. "I soon learned to lower my gaze." This time there is a dialogue balloon but it is set to empty space. The art is disturbing and abstract, moves deeper into metaphor and exisential pain. There is a foreboding. The image of the leafless tree that recurrs. And then the book takes a turn into more classical memoir.
"Becoming Unbecoming" moves gracefully between several modes: memoir, historical alnalysis, journalism, more conceptual and tonal expression. The images are mostly grayscale/black and white, but occasionally there's a flash of color, usually red, and sometimes there is art that draws on clear and sharp or blurred but intense black ink, which is very powerful and thought-provoking. Some pages have a conventional comic feel with panels and clear lines and some are full-page drawings, often with a lot of white space, giving readers time to rest and consider, to assimilate and study and prepare. The book is constructed with a beautiful and troubling complexity, sometimes feeling instructive, a kind of academic course, and sometimes more musing and introspective.
Here's a GR review that does a much better job than I do of describing the book. https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Below some links to music and art Una mentions:
Doonican's Walk Tall https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BL58-...
Mull of Kintyre https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dI8fR...
http://www.uffizi.org/artworks/judith...
Brighouse and Rastrick Brass Band https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQNFx...
Chrystal Gayle https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udEZ_...
The dedication is followed by a bleak image, a simple line drawing on a black and white page with textured grays, of a woman trudging up an impossible hill carrying an ordeal of baggage over her shoulder. This image connects back to the cover, where this same girl holds on to the same bag, kind of in the shape of a word-balloon, but this time it carries her, pulls her up away from a wintry or parched earth, the bare trees, and it is unclear if this is a form of escape or abduction or both. Or perhaps a metaphor for withdrawl.
How much of one's self and one's world does a person have to give up, how far above the trees does one have to be drawn, in order to get any distance and safety? Particularly in a world in which women's lives are often valued so little and violence toward girls and women is accepted and unaddressed.
This is one line of exploration in "Becoming Unbecoming." It's a book not about acts of violence so much as about cultures of violence, and while some of this violence is physical, much of it is communal and emotional.
Perhaps it goes without saying this book takes one on a sad, hard journey. It's kind of a lonely book. A beautiful, terrifying, instructive book. One that talks about a culture of brutality without offering the kind of narrative of suspense. This is not a book whose violence is a kind of dessert, with suspense and thrills. I am fascinated by and appreciative of books that have that kind of defiance against an easily consumable and exploitable story. This is a quiet graphic memoir and a graphic history of a particular time and place, the '70s in West Yorkshire, where a serial killer is murdering women and nobody seems to care very much, and where Una, the author and narrator, is trying to survive childhood, make sense of her cultural world, and make her way to adulthood while grappling with enormous pressures and challenges.
The second page of the book is a two page spread of a textured gray landscape, perhaps a field, or the trees from so far away and in such a mist, they don't come into focus. The landscape is befogged or blurred. There is no apparently clear sky, but scattered clouds float by. Toward the center of the top of the page, in a small cloud, rest ta few words, disembodied: "My name is Una."
Turn the page and the trees from the cover are back in all their bleak clarity, and above their bare branches float more clouds filled with Una's words. This page is all about music. Music Una was listening to in the seventies, gradually building the context.
And on the page after that, the left hand panel, this grounding in the culture of the seventies continues. Male and female musicians people the page, near-caricatures that are nevertheless not far from reality. And on the right-hand page, Una herself holding a guitar, the image a kind of paper-doll cut-out, and the words, still disembodied: "I loved Val Doonican. He had a song called Walk Tall. He told me to walk straight and look the world right in the eye. And that's what I tried to do."
The next page. "I soon learned to lower my gaze." This time there is a dialogue balloon but it is set to empty space. The art is disturbing and abstract, moves deeper into metaphor and exisential pain. There is a foreboding. The image of the leafless tree that recurrs. And then the book takes a turn into more classical memoir.
"Becoming Unbecoming" moves gracefully between several modes: memoir, historical alnalysis, journalism, more conceptual and tonal expression. The images are mostly grayscale/black and white, but occasionally there's a flash of color, usually red, and sometimes there is art that draws on clear and sharp or blurred but intense black ink, which is very powerful and thought-provoking. Some pages have a conventional comic feel with panels and clear lines and some are full-page drawings, often with a lot of white space, giving readers time to rest and consider, to assimilate and study and prepare. The book is constructed with a beautiful and troubling complexity, sometimes feeling instructive, a kind of academic course, and sometimes more musing and introspective.
Here's a GR review that does a much better job than I do of describing the book. https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
Below some links to music and art Una mentions:
Doonican's Walk Tall https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BL58-...
Mull of Kintyre https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dI8fR...
http://www.uffizi.org/artworks/judith...
Brighouse and Rastrick Brass Band https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iQNFx...
Chrystal Gayle https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udEZ_...
July 16, 2016
WOWWWWWWWW!!!!!!! Qué manera de compartir lo suyo y hacernos partícipes de lo que sucede en el mundo, qué forma tan visual y tan inteligente y tan audaz y tan creativa de dar testimonio de su dolor (y el de tantas) sin tener que exagerar morbosamente, mucho menos sin caer en dramatismo, más bien creo que nos hace de alguna manera responsables y alertas. Muy recomendable, muy.
August 2, 2017
La autora narra los asesinatos que ocurrieron durante la década de los 70 en la ciudad de Yorkshire a la vez que nos habla de su experiencia personal y de qué manera le afectó todo. Me ha parecido una novela gráfica imprescindible, muy adecuada para dar visibilidad a la violencia de género y denunciar el silencio que provoca, generado por la culpabilidad y la vergüenza. Tiene muchas frases para reflexionar, momentos que son bofetadas de realidad. Muy recomendable.
“¿Por qué la idea de que las mujeres y las niñas se merecen lo que les pasa es mucho más fácil de aceptar por las sociedades de todo el mundo que el hecho de que los varones violentos causan sufrimiento a millones en todo el mundo, en épocas de paz y en épocas de guerra?”
“¿Por qué la idea de que las mujeres y las niñas se merecen lo que les pasa es mucho más fácil de aceptar por las sociedades de todo el mundo que el hecho de que los varones violentos causan sufrimiento a millones en todo el mundo, en épocas de paz y en épocas de guerra?”
October 27, 2015
INCREDIBLE. Possibly the best graphic novel I've ever read. I interviewed Una for The F-Word - check it:
http://www.thefword.org.uk/2015/10/be...
http://www.thefword.org.uk/2015/10/be...
September 30, 2021
Starting as a benign coming of age graphic memoir, Una’s tale grows extremely dark as the stage is set for an exploration of gender violence and abuse in late 1970’s Yorkshire. With thin, wispy illustrations, Una blends her story of growing up while being surrounded by the devastating murders perpetrated by the Yorkshire Ripper, a serial killer that terrorized women in the English towns of Leeds and Bradford. The Yorkshire Ripper targeted prostitutes and once caught, claimed his actions were motivated by a request from God to purge immoral women. As Una explores her own sexuality with these tales of terror in the backdrop, we see a girl disparaged for her expressions of sexuality and made to tolerate harassment and taunting in a world that defends these actions with the idiom that “boys will be boys.” Her shrinking spirit is completely shattered after experiencing sexual abuse and violence, but even as a victim, she is made to feel as if her actions caused her terror. That what she wore, that what she said, and where she decided to go caused the violence against her, instead of the motivations of the perpetrator.
It took me a while to write about this story. The way Una paints her experience so deeply reflected the reality that women often experience. When we are sexually harassed on the street, we are told to ignore it for fear of retaliation. When we are touched, we are often told it was a result of what we wore. These situations start to add up and build the larger, deeper, and devastatingly dark situation where we become ashamed and silenced. It can feel like a snowball where you have lost yourself to these moments of disrespect and violence. Una’s subtlety and pain make this story horrifyingly relatable for most women I know. When the Yorkshire Ripper was caught, it was the story we hear all too often: that folks never suspected him, he was a good husband and neighbor. We see that this is how common violence against women is and how normative it was and continues to be.
Get Becoming Unbecoming from the Denver Public Library
- Hana
It took me a while to write about this story. The way Una paints her experience so deeply reflected the reality that women often experience. When we are sexually harassed on the street, we are told to ignore it for fear of retaliation. When we are touched, we are often told it was a result of what we wore. These situations start to add up and build the larger, deeper, and devastatingly dark situation where we become ashamed and silenced. It can feel like a snowball where you have lost yourself to these moments of disrespect and violence. Una’s subtlety and pain make this story horrifyingly relatable for most women I know. When the Yorkshire Ripper was caught, it was the story we hear all too often: that folks never suspected him, he was a good husband and neighbor. We see that this is how common violence against women is and how normative it was and continues to be.
Get Becoming Unbecoming from the Denver Public Library
- Hana
May 11, 2021
I was really impressed by Una's tone throughout this graphic novel. She discusses her own pain and vulnerability with such frankness, nearly to the point of (understandable) detachment; yet it never feels impersonal. It worked well to use the terror of the Yorkshire Ripper as a way to examine both the larger issue of misogynist violence and Una's own experiences with sexual assault.
It is quite horrifying that Una's recollection of the cultural climate of four decades ago is still so relevant. Maybe someday we will have moved beyond this.
It is quite horrifying that Una's recollection of the cultural climate of four decades ago is still so relevant. Maybe someday we will have moved beyond this.
June 8, 2016
I'd never heard of this author or graphic memoir, and am so grateful to my Goodreads friends whose reviews of it put in on my radar. This might well be the most thought provoking and important graphic memoir I've ever read. The author uses words and art to tell the heartbreaking account of the violence she experienced growing up, and then juxtaposes her personal story against a national serial killer story playing out in the media at that time. She explores how societal and cultural attitudes towards girls and women play a huge role in the gendered violence experienced.
We continue to live in a world that values girls and women less than boys and men. Girls and boys continue to grow up in a culture where male violence mostly goes unpunished and unquestioned. Victims of violence continue to live in a culture of silence and shame, and are further victimized by being held responsible for being the cause of the violence because of how they were dressed, or lived, etc.
The personal is political, and the political is personal. We are either part of the solution, or we are part of the problem. I cannot put into words how important a book this one is, and I'd recommend it to everyone.
We continue to live in a world that values girls and women less than boys and men. Girls and boys continue to grow up in a culture where male violence mostly goes unpunished and unquestioned. Victims of violence continue to live in a culture of silence and shame, and are further victimized by being held responsible for being the cause of the violence because of how they were dressed, or lived, etc.
The personal is political, and the political is personal. We are either part of the solution, or we are part of the problem. I cannot put into words how important a book this one is, and I'd recommend it to everyone.
March 14, 2019
Wow! This is one of the most powerful books I have ever read. Una tells her personal story while placing it in the context of the community she grew up in and our culture in general. It should be required reading for everyone. The copy I read was borrowed from the library, but I plan to purchase a copy to share with friends.
May 27, 2017
Duro, crudo, emotivo, directo, real. Es la historia en una mujer en específico, Uma, pero bien podría ser la de millones.
Una creció inmersa en un contexto de violencia sexual, experimentada no sólo directamente, pero también por medio de su ambiente. Son los finales de los 70s y la policía de West Yorkshire trata en vano de detener a un asesino serial de mujeres, “The Ripper”. Le invierten tiempo a la operación, demasiadas horas, pero la investigación es constantemente saboteada por sus propios prejuicios y misoginia. Con el tiempo, “The Ripper” se vuelve una especie de celebridad y la tragedia que envuelve a sus víctimas es sólo secundaria. De aquí, Una saca diversas reflexiones respecto a la violencia sexual, la culpabilidad, la vergüenza, la intimidación, la humillación, la trivialización de la misoginia y en general la manera en que la sociedad alimenta esta cultura de diversas maneras.
Es una lástima que una historia de hace cuarenta años en un país lejano pueda perfectamente entenderse en cualquier contexto moderno. Recientemente en México se dio el famoso caso del “BMW de Reforma”, donde un auto se estrelló a más de 180 kmh, partiéndose en dos. Cuatro pasajeros murieron, tres de ellos producto del impacto, una más por puta. Su pecado fue estar casada y haber salido de fiesta con otras personas. ¡Se lo busco!
El arte es excelente. Los dibujos son en blanco y negro y sumamente cargados de emociones. Algunos son muy evidentes, otros sujetos a interpretación, otros de plano no los entendí en la primera lectura. Será interesante verlos de nuevo en algunos meses.
Altamente recomendado para las mujeres, casi imperativo para los varones.
Lo saqué de la biblioteca, pero lo voy a comprar cuando lo encuentre bara.
Una creció inmersa en un contexto de violencia sexual, experimentada no sólo directamente, pero también por medio de su ambiente. Son los finales de los 70s y la policía de West Yorkshire trata en vano de detener a un asesino serial de mujeres, “The Ripper”. Le invierten tiempo a la operación, demasiadas horas, pero la investigación es constantemente saboteada por sus propios prejuicios y misoginia. Con el tiempo, “The Ripper” se vuelve una especie de celebridad y la tragedia que envuelve a sus víctimas es sólo secundaria. De aquí, Una saca diversas reflexiones respecto a la violencia sexual, la culpabilidad, la vergüenza, la intimidación, la humillación, la trivialización de la misoginia y en general la manera en que la sociedad alimenta esta cultura de diversas maneras.
Es una lástima que una historia de hace cuarenta años en un país lejano pueda perfectamente entenderse en cualquier contexto moderno. Recientemente en México se dio el famoso caso del “BMW de Reforma”, donde un auto se estrelló a más de 180 kmh, partiéndose en dos. Cuatro pasajeros murieron, tres de ellos producto del impacto, una más por puta. Su pecado fue estar casada y haber salido de fiesta con otras personas. ¡Se lo busco!
El arte es excelente. Los dibujos son en blanco y negro y sumamente cargados de emociones. Algunos son muy evidentes, otros sujetos a interpretación, otros de plano no los entendí en la primera lectura. Será interesante verlos de nuevo en algunos meses.
Altamente recomendado para las mujeres, casi imperativo para los varones.
Lo saqué de la biblioteca, pero lo voy a comprar cuando lo encuentre bara.
July 25, 2019
It is difficult to attempt to rate a book that is based on a person's life experience. Although this book is based on Una's life, it is a dual narrative about the victims of England's Yorkshire Ripper.
Una discussed society's attitudes toward her after the violations she experienced as well as the police's attitudes towards victims of the Yorkshire Ripper. The police made assumptions that all of the victims were involved in prostitution and if the victim didn't fit the mold, they neglected to consider changing the profile of the perpetrator. Even though this violence took place in the 1070s, victim blaming culture is still a prevailing attitude today.
This memoir includes statistics about reported facts about sexual violence against women. Una questions how her own live as well as the lives women would have turned out differently if they hadn't been impacted and had to strive so hard to deal with the sexual violence they had experienced.
I wish this book was either a straight memoir or a straight statistics and facts about sexual violence. I was left wanting answers I never got about how she went unnoticed by her family, both before and after her assaults. I especially wanted to know when and how she told her family about her experiences and how they responded. I felt this part of the narrative was unresolved. The reader never got to see her journey out of her horrendous childhood and the story certainly didn't end leaving the reader with much hope for humanity.
Una discussed society's attitudes toward her after the violations she experienced as well as the police's attitudes towards victims of the Yorkshire Ripper. The police made assumptions that all of the victims were involved in prostitution and if the victim didn't fit the mold, they neglected to consider changing the profile of the perpetrator. Even though this violence took place in the 1070s, victim blaming culture is still a prevailing attitude today.
This memoir includes statistics about reported facts about sexual violence against women. Una questions how her own live as well as the lives women would have turned out differently if they hadn't been impacted and had to strive so hard to deal with the sexual violence they had experienced.
I wish this book was either a straight memoir or a straight statistics and facts about sexual violence. I was left wanting answers I never got about how she went unnoticed by her family, both before and after her assaults. I especially wanted to know when and how she told her family about her experiences and how they responded. I felt this part of the narrative was unresolved. The reader never got to see her journey out of her horrendous childhood and the story certainly didn't end leaving the reader with much hope for humanity.
September 19, 2022
This is a heartbreaking, tender, poignant and unapologetic exploration of sexual assault, victim-blaming and shaming and the brutal murder of innocent women at the hands of Peter Sutcliffe.
Set against the backdrop of West Yorkshire, Una subtlety describes her abuse as a victim of sexual assault whilst also recounting all those unfortunate women whose lives were taken by Sutcliffe, as well as the misogyny and the sexist attitude of the police when they believed it was just ‘prostitutes’ who were being murdered.
Una presents the reader with shocking stats and facts which serve to remind just how many sexual crimes against women are committed on an annual basis, and even more horrifying, why so many victims don’t speak out - because they won’t be believed, because of the humiliation, because of the police and others thinking they wanted it.
The artwork was haunting at times and really emphasised the painful torment, guilt and shame victims of sexual assault feel - they should not be condemned and they should certainly not be silenced.
I applaud Una for her unflinching and brave story and for lifting the lid on what has routinely been ‘brushed under the carpet’.
A powerful, insightful and compelling read.
Set against the backdrop of West Yorkshire, Una subtlety describes her abuse as a victim of sexual assault whilst also recounting all those unfortunate women whose lives were taken by Sutcliffe, as well as the misogyny and the sexist attitude of the police when they believed it was just ‘prostitutes’ who were being murdered.
Una presents the reader with shocking stats and facts which serve to remind just how many sexual crimes against women are committed on an annual basis, and even more horrifying, why so many victims don’t speak out - because they won’t be believed, because of the humiliation, because of the police and others thinking they wanted it.
The artwork was haunting at times and really emphasised the painful torment, guilt and shame victims of sexual assault feel - they should not be condemned and they should certainly not be silenced.
I applaud Una for her unflinching and brave story and for lifting the lid on what has routinely been ‘brushed under the carpet’.
A powerful, insightful and compelling read.
July 19, 2020
One of the most powerful graphic memoirs I ever read.
It's definitely not a "light" book since it depicts rape culture and violence against women in a very raw and almost abstract way (some of the imagery, not all of it). While I love the ending pages, which are a beautiful tribute to the Ripper's victims, I thought the narrative ended too abruptly. Maybe that was purposeful on the author's part.
This book is both enraging and a call to action from a survivor, who represents one of countless life experiences we undervalue and disregard at great cost.
Content warning: murder, abuse, rape, victim blaming, bullying, police being garbage
It's definitely not a "light" book since it depicts rape culture and violence against women in a very raw and almost abstract way (some of the imagery, not all of it). While I love the ending pages, which are a beautiful tribute to the Ripper's victims, I thought the narrative ended too abruptly. Maybe that was purposeful on the author's part.
This book is both enraging and a call to action from a survivor, who represents one of countless life experiences we undervalue and disregard at great cost.
Content warning: murder, abuse, rape, victim blaming, bullying, police being garbage
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 2, 2024
Powerful and insightful, a beautiful expression of a difficult subject. One of the best explorations of gender violence I've ever read, perhaps because art (especially abstract art) can create a depth of feeling where words sometimes fail.
August 16, 2019
Durísimo.
November 26, 2024
"Of course, if you don't report it, you don't count, but it doesn't seem you count much more if you do."
An incredibly heartbreaking and informative personal account about sexual violence against women. Una largely explores not just the trauma that comes with experiencing such violence, but also the aftermath, where society has a tendency to resort to victim-blaming instead of focusing on making sure the right perpetrator is off the streets.
With her unique abstract art style and a logical, historical overview of how gendered violence is trivialized, this graphic novel is emotionally devastating but important. The novel has a nonlinear narrative where events from different timelines are scattered throughout, and the panels often leave out specific details in regard to what exactly happened in a traumatic event — leaving it a bit ambiguous while still painting a very clear picture for the audience to speculate on. A lot of people have a stereotypical idea where the worst kind of sexual violence happens from a creepy looking, basement dwelling "monster," when most of the perpetrators are as seen as normal from the outside; they can be your friendly, charming neighbour, they can be your funny innocuous friend.
There's an emphasis on "perfect victims," and what kind of women "deserve" such violence. Sex workers aren't seen as innocent and people will try to put the onus as much as possible on girls and women. Women who are perceived as innocent are not believed either, and it becomes clear that misogyny is not just a weapon used by perpetrators, but something that's ingrained even by many well-intentioned people, which unfortunately allows perpetrators to get away with their crimes.
Believing women, as well as humanizing perpetrators and realizing they can be anyone, instead of portraying them as rare inevitable monsters is the first step to combating misogyny and gendered violence.
An incredibly heartbreaking and informative personal account about sexual violence against women. Una largely explores not just the trauma that comes with experiencing such violence, but also the aftermath, where society has a tendency to resort to victim-blaming instead of focusing on making sure the right perpetrator is off the streets.
With her unique abstract art style and a logical, historical overview of how gendered violence is trivialized, this graphic novel is emotionally devastating but important. The novel has a nonlinear narrative where events from different timelines are scattered throughout, and the panels often leave out specific details in regard to what exactly happened in a traumatic event — leaving it a bit ambiguous while still painting a very clear picture for the audience to speculate on. A lot of people have a stereotypical idea where the worst kind of sexual violence happens from a creepy looking, basement dwelling "monster," when most of the perpetrators are as seen as normal from the outside; they can be your friendly, charming neighbour, they can be your funny innocuous friend.
There's an emphasis on "perfect victims," and what kind of women "deserve" such violence. Sex workers aren't seen as innocent and people will try to put the onus as much as possible on girls and women. Women who are perceived as innocent are not believed either, and it becomes clear that misogyny is not just a weapon used by perpetrators, but something that's ingrained even by many well-intentioned people, which unfortunately allows perpetrators to get away with their crimes.
Believing women, as well as humanizing perpetrators and realizing they can be anyone, instead of portraying them as rare inevitable monsters is the first step to combating misogyny and gendered violence.
June 2, 2016
Wow. This was not at all what I was expecting. It resists easy summary, but I suppose I'll give it a go. There's some autobiography here. Una grows up during the 70's. She is raped and/or molested on several occasions, but doesn't talk about it, partly because she has no frame of reference for what happened the first time. Rumors spread. She becomes ostracized at school, develops depression, tries various therapies, etc. This is set against the background of the Yorkshire Ripper murders. Details of the police handling of the case, their and the public's attitude toward the victims become germane to the story. The whole thing shifts from autobiography into an essay on predatory males in society. This is not a case of the story barreling out of control, devolving into screeching polemic. Metamorphosis is a theme touched on several times in the story, and the shift in focus is just one more example of such. Una knows what she's doing. Any sloppy, organic qualities to art and/or story are there by design. She makes her points carefully, calmly, and with surgical precision. This is not a book I will soon forget. It's been garnering a fair bit of praise, and, having read it, I can understand why. This is definitely one of the best, most important graphic novels I've read this year. Highly worth reading!
April 22, 2016
La enigmática autora de esta novela gráfica juega con elementos autobiográficos para mostrarnos una historia que está enraizada en la violencia: la que recibió ella misma cuando tenía doce años y la que se manifiesta a través del relato de los asesinatos del apodado Destripador de Yorkshire. Ambas narraciones se fundirán en un relato que le sirve para explorar la violencia de género y su relación con una sociedad que no cuestiona la violencia machista, visibiliza ni más ni menos que la estructuralidad machista a la que se enfrenta cada mujer cada día. Lo mejor de todo es que las composiciones de página y las combinaciones de colores unidos al dibujo que se caracteriza por su simplicidad sirven a la perfección al fin, mostrándolo de una manera muy amena y con toques policíacos. Es un verdadero descubrimiento.
November 20, 2021
A powerful graphic memoir/reflection/essay linking the author’s own lived experience of sexual violence with broader issues of misogyny in our culture. Growing up in the 1970s in a conservative Yorkshire suburb, Una absorbed the dichotomy between ladies/good girls on the one hand and ‘sluts’ and prostitutes on the other, from news coverage of the search for the Yorkshire Ripper and the way people around her conducted themselves. She found herself unable to speak about it after being sexually abused at a young age. Instead,she was slut-shamed and seen as unstable. Her personal story is layered with research and commentary on societal misogyny. The style of the art is quite spare, and the connections she makes are effective. I thought this would be an important book to have in high schools - what a good conversation-starter it would be. 3.5.
January 27, 2016
It started so promisingly. Absolutely gripping. And I can see what you were trying to do - and I applaud it. But at the half way point, to me the book lost it's power and you lost me with all the facts, figures and the density of the psychology behind the gender imbalance and perceptions of good and bad girls. I know this was part of your story and I am not sure how it could have been done differently. The imagery was on point and absorbing.
I think it important that the story be told and shared but I did struggle through some of it. Despite the two stars I would still recommend it to others.
I think it important that the story be told and shared but I did struggle through some of it. Despite the two stars I would still recommend it to others.
December 24, 2016
A edição brasileira não está cadastrado no goodreads, mas fica a indicação para um quadrinho que é um soco no estômago. Uma fala sobre violência sexual, cultura do estupro, culpabilização da vítima e violência contra a mulher. Um quadrinho que todo mundo deveria ler.
> Se a solução fosse prender todas as mulheres em uma caixa forte, a chave ainda ficaria com um homem.
> Se a solução fosse prender todas as mulheres em uma caixa forte, a chave ainda ficaria com um homem.
November 27, 2017
Good god this book is incredible. Beautiful and devastating.
June 5, 2018
Such an important story and message. Sickening, harrowing and raw, yet beautifully executed.
August 16, 2019
Startling and powerful. I loved the illustration style particularly, and the sparse use of colour.
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