Inés Martín Rodrigo, born in Madrid in 1983, grew up idolizing Superman and the Knight Rider hero from The Fantastic Car. She played soccer, asked her parents for a Scalextric they could not afford, and resisted dresses and long hair. On the playground and in the classroom, she was one of those girls who carried themselves with a boyish undertone, facing curious stares and veiled insults that often went unspoken.
What began as a quiet difference from her peers in a small Extremadura town would deepen over the years into a personal style of life outside conventional norms. Home became a sanctuary for this difference, yet a single event would reshape it: the death of her mother at a young age. The loss precipitated anorexia, a illness that nearly claimed her life and cast a long shadow over her adolescence and early adulthood.
Decades later, the author who won the Nadal Prize in 2022 for Las formas del querer—an exploration of death, illness, and Civil War legacies through intimate family narratives—decided it was time to reveal her authentic self. She speaks openly about loving and desiring women, identifying as a lesbian, driven by a frustration with invisibility and a political climate that threatens hard-won rights.
“This is not an activist text. There is no element of complaint. It is a work of self-expression,” she explains, describing a concise and reflective volume that tracks her personal evolution toward accepting her full sexual orientation. The book also gathers impressions from women who stood apart before her, through films and accompanying songs.
Within the pages appear reflections on Patricia Highsmith, Susan Sontag, Annemarie Schwarzenbach, Jodie Foster, Gabriela Mistral, Elena Fortún, KD Lang, and others. This cultural lineage forms a pedigree that she adds to with a fresh intention, offering references that may be elusive to readers who follow her.
Let’s begin with the last sentence of the book: “Literature is also a commitment.” Is the commitment here more personal or more political?
Everything personal is political. The work is personal and thus political. It started as a protest outside the social but also literary, born from a need to articulate her own commitments, and it evolved into a record of self-discovery. Writing reveals truths about oneself that were previously unseen, a phenomenon she has encountered in fiction and now in nonfiction, revealing more than fiction ever did.
At what moment did she realize the necessity of writing such a book?
A book emerges when it must. The very books seem to present themselves. If asked a year ago, she might not have anticipated this exact project. It arose from a need and came to fruition when she was ready, something she could not have produced fifteen years earlier.”
Does the timing of its appearance imply a need to discuss something perceived as outdated, where anyone should be free to love or desire whom they wish?
The key lies in recognizing the ongoing relevance. Spain guarantees gay rights, and the country remains a touchstone in this realm. Yet the current climate is fragile, demanding daily defense of these rights. Writing serves as a useful tool in that defense.
There are political undertones and nuanced observations throughout the book. For example, a line about being free before the term freedom became politically corrupted. How does she view her political involvement?
Politics shapes everyday life even if it isn’t always apparent. The rise of the far right worldwide is a concern, and a strong social conscience was instilled early on. Public voices, even small ones, should use their platform to speak out and make a difference because visibility matters.
Did the increase in homophobic attacks serve as a catalyst during the writing?
The awareness grew organically through discussions with an editor about rising homophobic hostility and the wish to end invisibility. The looming threat of such prejudice adds weight to the work, shaping its context even if it did not spark the initial impulse.
The book treats literature as both sanctuary and mirror. Did fiction heal past wounds, including the struggle with sexuality?
Healing is ongoing, much like the search for identity. Literature helps in self-knowledge, and the introduction to Las formas del querer clarifies that the author is not the protagonist of the novel. The book stands as a raw exercise in honesty that would not have been possible otherwise.
How do cultural references influence the discovery of sexual orientation, including TV, cinema, music, books, and sports?
Cultural and social references shape perception, sometimes invisibly. Meeting remarkable people made certain reflections possible, revealing how rare it remains for a young lesbian to find relatable models. The gap in representation is real, and the absence of diverse models persists across culture.
The book notes a painful childhood word: “tomboy.” Can words hurt like a knife?
Words can wound deeply, even spark feelings of love. Care is needed when selecting interviewees or composing a book. Everyday language matters too, especially with terms that can harm a child. We must mind our words to protect ourselves and others.
Is there still gender inequality in language, even within the RAE’s scope?
Language mirrors society and remains uneven. Gay women face double discrimination as women and as LGBTQ individuals. Recognition still lags behind, and visibility remains a challenge.
Will greater diversity in the RAE and media change this, or are deeper shifts needed?
Education holds more promise than institutions alone. What is taught at home and in schools matters as much as what is taught in classrooms. Real change requires changing minds and habits.
Do younger women writers express their non-normative sexuality more freely now?
Yes. There is pride and a sense of freedom in recent voices that was not available before. The author watches these expressions with both pride and a touch of envy, hoping the progress continues and that future generations won’t face the same setbacks.
In terms of erotic fiction, what works stand out for lesbian readers or writers?
Eroticism is best understood as sensibility rather than pornography. The author recalls works that explored explicit desire with nuance, such as The Pearl’s Luster, and notes that earlier titles served as starting points for her own exploration.
When she realized her attraction to women, she found a new sense of body belonging. How do these wounds relate?
The relationship with her body is intricate, blending physical and emotional elements. Healing required embracing love for another woman while learning to love herself. The two wounds intersect, guiding her toward a healthier sense of self and bodily confidence.
She mentions not liking to look in the mirror. Is this a lasting habit or a phase?
She avoids full-body scrutiny and has not weighed herself since hospital days. Old behaviors linger, but she maintains discipline to sustain her health and well-being.
The closing note claims she is not brave, yet she seems otherwise. What is the truth here?
The author resists the label of bravery, yet public reception has been strong. The term has become common in discourse about openly expressing one’s sexuality in recent times. The bravery she values lies with the courage of many women in difficult circumstances around the world.
Does publishing the book imply a broader necessity?
Indeed. The act of publication represents a demand for visibility and truth, even when personal pain is involved. It is a testament to endurance and the ongoing dialogue about identity.
Is she prepared for the attention the book will receive?
Her life includes pain and illness, which, paradoxically, supply the resilience to endure difficult times. This path has also brought a deep sense of gratitude for the life she leads and the people who have supported her. The response she has received makes the effort worthwhile and meaningful for many readers.