Laia Bové: "In Catalonia, she was always the only racialized skater."

BarcelonaLaia Bové (Barcelona, ​​1985) is a person who goes with the flow. Accustomed to a life between Barcelona and the United States (she settled in Florida years ago), she is always open to new experiences. She has been a professional ice skater, a yoga teacher, and now she makes the leap to literature with *Saber volver* (La Campana), a novel about two characters—a young Catalan woman living in Chicago and a young man who has had to return home to his parents due to an injury—who are searching for their place in the world. We meet in a bar, and shortly before we begin talking, the bartender, looking at her Afro hair, says, "Wow, what a mane." She smiles with the resignation of someone who has had to hear a comment like that too many times and replies kindly, "Well, yes, I don't need to do much to it."

You have just published your first novel, Knowing how to returnHow do you go from skating to writing?

— I've been writing since I was little. I went to a school where culture was really important. I'd always loved to write, but when I started ice skating professionally at 17, I put writing on the back burner. It was when I started teaching yoga that I picked it up again, because the platforms I worked with asked me for articles to accompany the classes. When you get into it, you start meeting other writers. Five years ago, a friend asked me, "Have you thought about writing a novel?" She explained that in November, in the United States, there's something called NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month): some people realized that if they wrote 1,000 words every day for a month, by the end of the month they'd have 50,000, which is the equivalent of a manuscript. I decided to start writing to get into the habit of writing every day. At that time I was writing a science fiction novel in the United States, but when I returned to Catalonia to spend some time I realized that I wanted to write something more everyday.

In the novel, the protagonist, Jana, lives in the United States and returns to Catalonia, just like you. What aspects of your life have you incorporated into the story?

— Although it might seem like Jana is me, the story isn't autobiographical at all. I travel back and forth to the United States, but I've only been to Chicago, where Jana lives, twice, and one of those times was to build a staircase. There are parallels, of course. But I've realized that they're very universal characters, and many people see themselves reflected in them.

Jana, at the beginning of the book, seeks perfection.

— This is what separates me from her. In the United States, there's a lot of talk about Type A people—very organized, hardworking, and efficient individuals. I'm the opposite: I work the bare minimum; I really like to be relaxed. In fact, it was very difficult for me to write the character without her seeming unbalanced. I see it in many people around me: they live very stressful lives and strive for perfection. I've known for many years that perfection doesn't exist. And, in fact, if I dedicated myself to doing things perfectly, one of the things I wouldn't have done is write a novel, because I would never have finished it.

Is the world of yoga very focused on the pursuit of perfection?

— And then there's figure skating. In the world of ice skating, physical perfection is demanded of you, which isn't realistic. I was sold the idea that it was a sport where you had to be perfect, pleasing the judges and coaches, and smiling. In reality, everyone does it their own way, and you should be able to practice this sport without being perfect. Perfection compared to what?

Have you experienced this demand for perfection more here or in the United States?

— I think it's a global phenomenon; I see it everywhere in different forms. In the United States, perhaps people want more of a big house and a car, while here people want a second home or a primary residence, given the current housing situation, and time to go outside and have a coffee. They're different things, but they lead us to live lives that aren't the ones we truly want to live, because we feel that if we don't do this or that, we'll be left behind.

How did you get into the world of ice skating?

— Well, I was a member of Club Super3, and so was my brother. For his birthday, they invited him to skate at the sadly now-defunct Skating Club. I remember going too, but they wouldn't let me skate; I just stood there watching. My mother said to me, "If you don't bother them too much, we'll come back next week, and you can skate." I got along really well with them because I wanted to skate; I was so impressed. For many years, I went recreationally, and then I joined Barça and competed until I was 21. After that, I stopped skating. tour, first with Holiday on Ice and then with Disney on Ice And I stayed in the United States, because it seemed like an interesting country to me.

When and why did you stop skating?

— I've never completely stopped. At 25, I stopped skating professionally, partly because I was diagnosed with a chronic illness and it was very difficult to be active. tour with medication. Also, it was a time when I didn't really know what was wrong with me. When I moved to Michigan, I started coaching, but it's the same toxic environment as when you're a skater.

In what sense is it toxic?

— It's a sport that's really an art, and it's very difficult to balance both aspects and be fair to the skaters, who are often children. I think you can be like all the other coaches and be tough on the kids, or you can be less tough, and then you're not a good coach. There came a point where it wasn't emotionally worth it for me, and I said, "I don't want to know anything more about skating." But a couple of years ago, a skate company that's all about people of color approached me. This has been incredibly healing for me.

Is the world of skateboarding under-racialized?

— Roller skating is originally Black, but ice skating isn't. Here in Catalonia, in every space I went to when I skated, I was the only Black skater. I had to go to France to see more. There are more in the United States too, but the beauty standard is so imposed that it's very difficult to see yourself reflected in it. When you enter a racialized space, you realize that we've all experienced the same things, that we were always the only Black people on the ice, that we all have similar experiences with the judges.

Before the conversation even started, someone made a comment about your Afro hair. Does this happen more often in Catalonia or in the United States?

— It depends on the setting. Having your hair touched, for example, is surreal. It would never occur to me to touch someone. In fact, as a yoga teacher, I don't touch people, because what do I know about your body? That you would come and touch my hair out of ignorance is fascinating to me.

In the book, Jana, who is also Black, talks a lot about her hair and how she has to wear it to work. Why?

— It's something I hadn't considered: my hair is Afro, and that's just how it is. I wear it as it is. But if you work in more corporate environments, even now, having Afro hair isn't well-received. If you wear braids, you'll get comments too. The thing is, people feel the need to comment. Everyone makes a lot of comments without being asked or questioned, and without thinking about whether they're affecting the other person or not. We should rethink that.

You travel back and forth between the United States and Catalonia. What's it like to be back in Barcelona?

— Before, when it had been longer since I'd been to Barcelona, ​​the return was more romantic. I'd arrive here and think, "Oh, how wonderful, how beautiful, the people in the streets, the embers, everyone speaking Catalan." Now it's more normal. They're two very contrasting cultures, but they also have things in common. I have my friends here and my friends there. Something I really enjoy is writing letters to myself that I read when I get back. It helps me remember where I left things, for starters [laughs]. A couple of days before flying, I start changing my clocks, and when I get to the airport, I switch to the time zone of the place I'm going to.

The back cover of the book says, "The literary debut of a young author searching for her world on the site." Have you found it?

— We create our own place in the world, and I think that sometimes we feel like we're there, but in reality, it's a constant coming and going. I don't know if I'm searching for my place; I mostly let myself be guided by experience and by what happens to me day to day. I think that planning our entire lives as if everything we want has to happen every single day is very romantic. In reality, life does what it wants, and the only thing you can do is adapt and start over if necessary.

Have you had to start over many times?

— I'd say strength. Our identity changes a lot as we grow up. During parts of my life I've identified as "the skater," at other times as "the yoga teacher." Now I say, "I'm Laia, and I do what I do today, and we'll see what tomorrow brings." It's much more fun.