Each morning when Kehree Lacasse unlocks her North Vancouver studio, she transforms from a mother of two to a “mother” of 450. But because one student is her own daughter, she also wrestles with the perceptions that arise among her clients
I was 2 when I first sprinted through the studio doors to my first dance class, eager in my black leotard and skirt, pink tights covering my short legs and my tiny feet enclosed in ballet shoes. I had already picked out where I would sit for warm-up and which color butterfly I would pretend to be when the time came to stretch in butterfly position. I had no idea that because of my last name, my life as a dancer would be filled with hardships that no one at the studio would understand—but also with joys that no one else would experience.