It Started Small, Like Most Good Things Do

There’s a quiet rhythm to life in Quebec. It’s in the early morning cafés, the street performers on cobblestone corners, the way laughter carries through narrow alleys in Old Montréal. We have a deep appreciation for expression here—especially when it’s authentic.

So when Kelley Heyer’s Apple dance started showing up on TikTok, it didn’t need a marketing machine. It just clicked. The steps were simple, a little cheeky, and packed with personality. It didn’t scream. It invited.

You could see it everywhere—from students dancing in dorms in Sherbrooke to TikToks filmed at sunset along the St. Lawrence. It was joyful, raw, and full of that unexplainable thing we call âme—soul.

And then, just like that, someone else claimed it.

Roblox Took It—Before Kelley Said Yes

So here’s what happened. Kelley created the dance. She copyrighted it back in August 2024. She even began discussions with Roblox, the creators of the popular game Dress to Impress, about using it. All good, right?

Not quite.

Roblox went ahead and added the dance anyway. They called it an emote. Put a price tag on it—$1.25. Let users buy it. Play with it. Make it theirs.

But it wasn’t theirs. It was hers. And they never finished the deal.

By the time Roblox quietly removed the emote, the damage had been done.

• 60,000+ downloads
• An estimated $123,000 in revenue
• $0 for Kelley
• 1 lawsuit, filed in California
• And countless creators watching it unfold

In Quebec, That Doesn’t Sit Right

Here, we’re used to protecting what’s ours—our culture, our language, our art. We don’t take kindly to seeing something beautiful taken without credit, especially when it comes from someone who created it in good faith.

Kelley didn’t ask for fame. She shared something personal. She gave people a way to connect, move, smile. And then a billion-dollar company tried to profit off it behind her back.

For a province that values authenticité, that’s not just a misstep. It’s a violation.

What Roblox Had to Say? Not Much

They released the usual legal line about respecting intellectual property and feeling confident about their position. You know—the kind of response designed to say nothing at all.

No mention of Kelley. No apology. No effort to fix it.

Just business as usual. Which, in this case, looks a lot like erasing the person who created the joy.

This Is About More Than Dance

Kelley’s not the first person this has happened to—and she probably won’t be the last. But what makes this one stand out is how clear the lines were.

She copyrighted it.

She started a conversation.

They jumped ahead anyway.

Here in Quebec, we know what it feels like to fight for visibility. For credit. For space to be seen as whole and original.

That’s why this matters.

From Québec City to Montréal—We Feel This

Whether you’re sketching on a balcony in Lévis or composing music in a Mile End basement, we all understand what it means to create something from the gut. To share a piece of yourself with the world and hope people treat it with care.

Kelley’s asking for something very basic: to be seen. To be credited. To not have her work turned into a commodity without her say.

And honestly? That’s not too much to ask.

Especially not here. Not in Quebec. Where we still believe that art comes with responsabilité.