Who do you become when you can no longer do what you love? This is the central question animating Newbery Honor author Andrea Beatriz Arango’s new middle-grade verse novel, It’s All or Nothing, Vale (Random House, Feb. 11), which our starred review calls “moving and insightful.” All or Nothing is the story of queer Puerto Rican fencing champion Valentina Marí Camacho, who must reshape her identity after a bike accident seriously affects her athletic abilities. We recently spoke to Arango about the book on a video call; our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

I’ve never read a book about fencing before! Why did you make this Vale’s sport of choice?

My sister was actually a competitive fencer. We grew up in Puerto Rico, and one day my sister had nothing better to do, so she went with my mom and my brother to this fencing gym. She ended up being really gifted and within, like, a year was on the Puerto Rico national youth team. When I was thinking about what I wanted my next book to be [about], I thought it would be really cool to do fencing, because I don’t see a lot of Latinas in fencing in general.

Also, when I was a kid, I wasn’t as supportive [of my sister] as I could have been. I hated having to go to her competitions, and I thought the whole thing was so violent. So I thought, What a great way apologize to her years later. To say, “Look, I’m showcasing your sport!”

That sounds like Vale’s family. Her sibling and her parents are trying so hard to be supportive, but they keep falling short.

I was a public school teacher for 10 years, and I’ve been a foster parent, so I’ve always been interested in the dynamics of family and friends who love you but don’t always know how to support you. I like characters that are fundamentally good people who have good intentions but are flawed. None of us are perfect, and none of us can be perfectly supportive of the people we love every single day. Everyone’s going to mess up in big or small ways. I like for kids to see conversations where both parties are able to say, “This is what I need. I’m not getting this from you.” I’m a big believer that if you’re exposed to things, then later you might remember, OK, this worked for this other person. So maybe I can try opening a conversation up in a similar way.

Why were you interested in exploring Vale’s perfectionism?

Every year we put more and more pressure on kids. We tell them they have to do certain things in order to be successful, and the bar keeps getting higher and higher. It could be about grades, it could be about sports, it could be about anything. And of course, there’s the whole social media angle, too, where now you’re not even just getting that pressure from your teachers and your parents, but from total strangers on the internet, too.

I feel like every kid has, at some point, felt, This is the only thing I’m good at. I can’t stop doing it or I’ll have nothing I’m good at, and how will I ever get anywhere? I’m very much a perfectionist, so I felt like I could personally relate to Vale. Because it’s hard if you think, This is who I am, and this is what makes me me, and for whatever reason you are forced to change that. Like for me, probably my most recent experience with that was when I stopped teaching, because teaching was my entire identity. I was like, Who am I if I’m not a teacher?

You taught middle school?

Yeah, I did. I was a teacher in Puerto Rico, and then I came to the [mainland] United States and was an English language learner [ELL] teacher working with immigrants and refugees. Teaching has definitely helped me understand the range of experiences that are out there. I was able to meet such a wide variety of children.

Speaking of different experiences, Vale has complex feelings about calling her injury a disability. Why did this feel important to include?

I think we’re at the point now where it’s not a shock to find out that someone has a chronic condition, but there’s still a stigma around, like, Does this count as a disability? Am I disabled enough if my symptoms are only X, Y, and Z, versus these symptoms that I see someone else having? That’s a conversation that’s happening with adults that should be happening with kids, too. It’s why, in some of my other books, I have a lot of conversations about mental health. [Today] I see adults talking about all these things, but as a teacher, I never saw the kids talking about them.

I have some chronic stuff going on, so that’s something I was thinking a lot about in my life leading up to this book. When I had the idea for a fencer, it just kind of all fit together.

I love that Vale has a romance! What is it like to write a queer romance in this political climate?

My other two books have really strong boy-girl friendships, but I knew from the beginning that I wanted this book to have romance: a girl crushing on a girl. I think we’re at a place in publishing where we see queer relationships a lot in YA, but not as much in middle grade.

Banning was definitely a concern with this book. Middle grade is extra tricky because of where it’s being marketed. The younger the kids are, the more people protest the books, and middle grade is technically marketed starting at eight years old.

I don’t know if you noticed, but the book’s back description doesn’t mention that there’s a queer romance. That was definitely a choice on the part of my publisher, because I feel—and I think they would agree with me—that a lot of books are banned just based on the description. It could be the sweetest, most G-rated romance ever, as it is in my book, but it would still get banned just because of that description.

Is there anything readers can do to support authors who are in danger of having their books banned?

It’s so tricky, because I want to say that you as an individual can support me just by buying a copy. But the reality is that schools and library systems are the bulk of my book sales. It feels to me like YA gets bought a lot by individuals and also by adults, but middle grade is very much in that school and library market. So, I think, continuing to advocate in your local school districts and in local library districts against book banning is so important.

I’m so appreciative of the teachers and the librarians who push for my books to be available and who have always really championed my work. The teachers and librarians who are doing this work really deserve medals! As individuals, what we can do is support them. Because when people speak up, they never know who else they’re inspiring to speak up, too.

Mathangi Subramanian is a novelist, essayist, and founder of Moon Rabbit Writing Studio.