Dragon Slippers: Why Rosalind Penfold’s graphic memoir is still so relevant to creative arts therapies

Kiki Havos

Published in 2006, Dragon Slippers: This is What an Abusive Relationship Looks Like remains to this day one of the few extended graphic memoirs depicting intimate-partner violence from an adult woman’s perspective. Penfold’s work is a rare and significant addition to the graphic medicine genre.

What is graphic medicine?

Graphic medicine is a sub-genre of graphic novels/memoirs that uses comics to explore personal stories about illness and health (National Library of Medicine, 2024). There are several benefits to sharing graphic medicine works in the medical field. First, they offer an accessible and empowering way for people to recount and share their personal and medical experiences. Second, these works often reveal gaps in medical research, helping to enhance clinician empathy, understanding, and support. By highlighting how intersectionality affects diagnoses and medical experiences, graphic medicine texts contribute to more reflective and culturally informed medical practices and therapeutic interventions. 

Contextualising family violence in Australia

Family violence and intimate-partner violence are defined by Safe Steps as “any threatening, coercive, dominating or abusive behaviour that occurs between people in a family, domestic or intimate relationship, or former intimate relationship, that causes the person experiencing the behaviour to feel fear” (Safe Steps, 2024). Although family violence does not discriminate and can affect anyone, there is an understanding that certain populations are more at risk than others. For example, one in three Australian women have had an experience of intimate-partner violence throughout their lifetime (Webster, 2016, p.7), and around 68% of mothers who experienced violence from a previous partner while having children in their care recounted that their children were also exposed to violence (AIHW, 2022). The World Health Organization identifies violence against women as a “major public and clinical health problem” and a “violation” of women’s international human rights (2024). In 2024, we have so far seen 25 women across Australia killed by their intimate partners or other male members of the Australian community, which is an increase from the figure recorded in 2023 (Roberts, 2024). This is a figure which has undoubtedly risen since the publication of this review. Although progress has been made in Australia through federal and state policy reform (see the National Plan to End Violence against Women and Children [2022-2032]), the issue still requires collective international and national action, particularly in the field of prevention.

According to the State Government of Victoria, creative arts therapists working in family violence must adopt an intersectional lens that acknowledges how one’s multifaceted identity can amplify the “risk, severity, and frequence” of violence (March 2021). As an example, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander women and children are “disproportionately affected” by family violence in Australia and experience distinct barriers to accessing support (State Government of Victoria, 2016, p.7). One such barrier is the lack of culturally informed, responsive, and respectful service provision for First Nations families (State Government of Victoria, October 2021). In my art therapy studies, I recall learning about the Aboriginal storytelling practice of ‘Dadirri’, or ‘deep listening’, which helped me acknowledge how vital cultural storytelling practices are for First Nations people (AIHW, 2024). In the context of maintaining culturally sensitive and trauma-informed creative arts therapy programs for First Nation survivors, maintaining safe and accessible avenues for people to share their stories, and to have opportunities to listen, understand, reflect, and respect the journeys of others are paramount (Cripps, 2023, p.9). Graphic memoirs like Dragon Slippers, through their distinctive and personal storytelling methods, offer a powerful way to amplify the personal narratives and voices of survivors of family violence. Ergo, it is essential for creative arts therapists to place value on the powerful potential of sequential storytelling to connect clients with intersectional experiences of family violence to inspire new creative avenues for sharing their own stories, and to support the work required in prevention.

Dragon Slippers

In my work as an art therapist supporting women and children who have experienced family violence, I actively seek out graphic medicine texts to better understand the diverse impacts of violence and to recommend resources to those I support. To my surprise, Rosalind B. Penfold’s Dragon Slippers: This is What an Abusive Relationship Looks Like is one of the few extended graphic memoirs to this day depicting intimate-partner violence from an adult woman’s perspective. Penfold’s work is a rare and significant addition to the graphic medicine genre, highlighting both the scarcity of such personal accounts and the gaps in creative, empowering resources for women to share their stories. For creative arts therapists, engaging with personal narratives is essential for exploring innovative ways to empower clients and continually enhance their skills. Graphic memoirs like Dragon Slippers offer valuable opportunities to utilise sequential storytelling to help their clients foster a sense of personal agency and empowerment. They also provide a chance to reflect on and challenge their own biases about why women may remain in abusive relationships, ultimately helping them to improve how they offer support to break the cycle of family violence.

Penfold’s work is designed for both adults supporting survivors and those who might see parallels with their own experiences. She explores the cycle of violence, a concept originally coined by Leanne Walker (1984). The cycle explains a recurring pattern where abusive behaviour escalates, resolves, and perpetuates further abuse, often trapping individuals in a continuous, terrifying loop (Walker, 1989). This cycle is evident in the text’s preface, chapter themes, visual formatting and pacing. In the preface, Penfold explains that denial, shame, and her sense of obligation toward Brian – the person using violence – and his four children from a previous marriage kept her trapped in an abusive relationship for ten years. Through harrowing flashbacks and commentary throughout, Penfold discusses how she confused the relationship's intensity with genuine intimacy. Penfold uses the pseudonym Rosalind B. Penfold to underscore the significant stigma that survivors of long-term abuse often face from friends, family, and society regarding leaving their relationships. This pseudonym highlights the difficulty in openly discussing and acknowledging prolonged experiences of abuse for survivors. Her work shows that intimate-partner violence moreover can affect anyone, regardless of their background. For at the start of the text, Penfold depicts herself as a successful businesswoman who is eventually forced to abandon her career to care for Brian and his children who are grieving their late mother.

Penfold describes how she began externalising and documenting her frightening interactions with Brian through quick, expressive comic drawings to make sense of her confusing experiences. She initially hides these drawings from others, but eventually shares them with friends, family, and a therapist who help her to understand and process her situation. Her poignant illustrations of her therapy sessions lead her to link her story to her childhood fascination with the fairytale, The Beauty and the Beast. Here, she reimagines her relationship with Brian as a dystopian fairytale, depicting him as a large, sleeping dragon who looms over her while she fears his rage might be triggered by something as minor as his slipper falling from his foot in his sleep. This imagery is echoed in the text’s title. Penfold’s story not only addresses the shame that survivors feel about their decisions to leave abusive partners but also highlights how cycles of violence can be broken through connections with family and friends, therapeutic support, and externalising therapeutic practices like graphic journaling.

Artistic style and format

Penfold’s text features bold black-and-white lines, with some illustrations appearing roughly drawn and others more polished, potentially digitally enhanced. The images include speech bubbles that depict interactions between the couple and thought bubbles that convey Penfold’s internal dialogue. While generally simple, the illustrations evolve into full splash pages that offer psychoeducational maps and metaphors for understanding and breaking patterns of intimate-partner violence. The lack of a consistent panel grid highlights key moments and themes in the text, particularly those depicting Brian’s abusive behaviour and the clear power imbalance of their relationship. As the story continues, the style becomes more unconventional and less refined, which may reflect Penfold’s jarring transition from the relationship's honeymoon phase into the disorienting periods marked by overwhelm, fear, and confusion. Penfold’s revision of her initially rough sketches into a cohesive narrative not only clarifies the patterns of abuse for both herself and readers, but also showcases the intricate problem-solving skills needed to craft longer-form graphic memoirs.

The graphic memoir's format, style, framing, speech, and pacing all reflect the creator’s psychological state and feelings toward her experiences. By editing her initial drawings with insights gained from external support networks, Penfold has crafted a narrative that powerfully reclaims her autonomy and voice. This has, moreover, shone through in what Penfold has chosen to withhold from the reader. Comics require readers to fill in the missing gaps between images – i.e. the ‘gutters’ – to make sense of the overall story. While the specifics of these omissions remain unknown, they contribute to the narrative's impact. Comic gutters and the reader’s role in interpreting their meaning reinforce how comics serve as an impactful medium for both conveying and containing complex personal experiences.

Comics and sequential practices not only help to contain traumatic experiences but also facilitate personal reflections regarding one’s personal development, identity, biases, and relationships with others (Fernandez & Lina, 2019; Gibson, 2018; Khan, 2021). Penfold’s initial spontaneous drawings, along with their subsequent revisions, illustrate her evolving understanding of these aspects. Her revisions have thus seemingly helped her to identify patterns of violence, move toward breaking such patterns, and recreate a cohesive and contained narrative that she possesses control over. While the images and layout may appear simplistic, this may ensure that the story remains accessible while honouring the urgency with which these experiences were most likely recorded.

Comic art therapy

I have used comics both personally and professionally to help externalise, gain perspective, and contain painful and confusing experiences. Through this medium and in keeping a continuous practice such as a comic diary, I have learned that reflexivity is a continuous process that evolves as I do (Givropoulou & Tseliou, 2018, p.133). Engaging in response art before, during, and after art therapy sessions through comics has significantly helped me foster a shared empathy and deeper understanding of both myself as a therapist and those I work to support (Orenstein, 2011). It is profoundly liberating to find a story that resonates with your own experiences, and while I wish texts like Dragon Slippers were unnecessary, I am grateful for their existence. They provide a sense of connection in often isolating situations and offer psychoeducation that is easily understood and engaging. They also, perhaps most significantly, expose the ‘gutters’ of therapeutic intervention in upholding client voice and maintaining culturally safe practices.

I urge anyone who works in the family violence sector to read Rosalind B. Penfold’s graphic memoir to help inform their work in supporting survivors. It is crucial to note, however, that the memoir contains personal flashbacks and images of traumatic experiences that may be triggering for survivors. As such, it is important to always provide content warnings and exercise caution when recommending this text to others.