It Started Out Soft—Like So Many Things Do Out Here

There’s something about the Northwest that makes you feel things a little deeper. Maybe it’s the way the rain rolls in quietly or the way we all pause when the sun breaks through the clouds, even if it’s just for five minutes. Joy, here, is a little more subtle. A little more sacred.

That’s kind of what Kelley Heyer’s Apple dance felt like when it started showing up on TikTok. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t trying too hard. It was just… right. A little shoulder bounce. A little sass. A lot of heart. It felt like someone dancing in their kitchen after a good cry and a better song.

And it spread. Fast. You saw it on college campuses in Eugene. Dance studios in Spokane. Even on ferry rides across Puget Sound—kids filming themselves with earbuds in and that slight smile people get when they think no one’s watching. It was sweet. And fun. And so clearly hers.

Until it wasn’t.

Then a Game Used It Without Her Saying Yes

So here’s where it takes a turn. Kelley had started talking to Roblox, the mega-platform behind Dress to Impress, about licensing the dance. You know, doing things the right way. But before anything official was nailed down, they went ahead and dropped the Apple dance emote into the game.

It was for sale. For $1.25. Kids bought it. Used it. Loved it. And Kelley? She was still waiting for a deal that never came.

Eventually, she filed a lawsuit. Because when the numbers came out, they weren’t small:

• Over 60,000 emote downloads
• Roughly $123,000 in revenue
• $0 paid to Kelley
• No signed licensing agreement

They took something she made from movement and feeling—and turned it into a line item.

Up Here, That Doesn’t Sit Right

This corner of the country, we’ve got a lot of respect for people who create things from the ground up. A barista who writes poetry in Ballard. A teen learning guitar in a basement in Boise. Dancers who perform under pop-up tents at farmer’s markets. We get what it means to create something because you love it—not because you think it’ll go viral.

So when someone like Kelley puts herself into her art—her literal body into a piece of choreography—and then a big company just… takes it?

Yeah. That hits a nerve.

What Roblox Had to Say

They gave the usual PR answer. Something about respecting intellectual property and feeling confident legally. No apology. No acknowledgement. Just that smooth, press-friendly shrug we’ve all come to expect from platforms too big to say “we messed up.”

But what about Kelley? What about the joy that dance brought to so many people? What about doing things the right way, the way she tried to?

This Is About More Than a Dance

It’s about ownership. About dignity. About the moment you realize something you made, something that came out of love and late-night inspiration, is now part of a game—being sold like a costume change or a downloadable hat.

And yeah, maybe you could brush it off. Say “that’s just how the internet works.” But why should we accept that? Why should we tell creators their joy is free for the taking just because it happened on TikTok?

We Can Do Better—Especially Here

In the Northwest, we still believe in crediting your sources. Saying thank you. Leaving the trail better than you found it. Whether you’re in a Portland co-op or a Bellingham studio, there’s a shared value in treating people—and their work—with care.

Kelley Heyer deserves that. Every creator does.

So yeah, maybe this is about a dance. But it’s also about asking ourselves: Are we honoring the people who give us joy, or are we just taking what we want and moving on?

Out here, we know the difference.