Kherson is arguably the worst place in war-torn Ukraine. Sitting directly on the zero line, the city endures relentless shelling and drone assaults meant to kill or maim children, parents, workers — anyone. Over time, the vast majority of its inhabitants have vanished, until all that remains is the ghost of a once-vibrant city. But then I met a dance teacher named Alyona — so brave, so unpretentious, so undramatic. “I will never leave Kherson,” she told me. “I was born here. This is my city. I’m not a hero or anything like that. My mission is to make sure my students are happy when they dance, that’s all.”

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DdN – Thank you so much for agreeing to this interview. Let me start with a stupid question : how are you today ?

A – I’m fine, actually.

DdN – Seeing you dance in Zarina Zabrisky’s film Kherson: Human Safari made me curious about your story — how did dance become part of your life?

A – I started dancing in primary school, then in secondary school, and later at university. As a matter of fact I’ve never stopped dancing. But if we talk about teaching, then I started in middle school. Teaching is the perfect trick to get people dancing around you.

DdN – You have the body of a ballerina but your field is modern dance. What is your training background ?

A – Funny you should say that because I’ve never had any classical training. Hip-hop was my one and only teacher. (Laughter)

DdN – Were you aiming to join any particular company back then?

A – At seventeen, my friends and I went ahead and started our own company in Kherson. I also had the opportunity to audition in Kyiv, to become a professional. But then I realised that my dream, in a professional sense, was different.

DdN – You’re not only a dancer, you’re also a dentist. There’s a very funny word in Ukrainian — шпагат, the “splits”, le grand écart. How on earth did you manage that split between dance and dentistry ?

A – As a child I was the one in charge of my family’s teeth. (Laughter) I naturally set myself the goal of becoming a dentist. This passion proved stronger than dance, at least professionally.

DdN – You’re a dentist in Kherson. Kherson isn’t exactly the easiest place in the world to live in. How do you manage with everything happening around you?

A – I guess my task is to show my students that there is more to life than war. I’m not a hero or anything like that. My mission is to make sure they are happy when they dance, that’s all.

DdN – Who are your students? I mean, what are they like?

A – I welcome anyone in my class. I don’t really care about technical abilities. Teenagers, young women, ladies in their fifties…

DdN – All women ?

A – Yes.

DdN – Are there many dance classes in Kherson at the moment?

A – In the city center, I’m the only teacher left. [The center is one of the most exposed parts of the city.] Otherwise, you can still find classes in the more remote districts.

DdN – We talk about war but you live here. You know better than anyone what it’s like. Is there anything you feel is lacking in our perception and understanding of this war ?

A – Maybe it’s a Ukrainian thing, but I really dislike being treated as a victim. There’s no need to make things more dramatic than they already are. I can only hope that no one ever has to live through what we are living through.

DdN – You could easily live somewhere else. What makes Kherson so special to you?

A – I travelled a lot, even to the Côte d’Azur [Alyona’s mother is a French teacher], but this is my native city. I just can’t leave my native city. This is where I should be.

DdN – What projects are you working on at the moment?

A – Right now ? I’m focusing on Zarina’s new film on Kherson. I’m so glad we get to keep doing this project together.

DdN – I’m sure your contribution will be just as brilliant as in the first one. I know you have a lot of work today. Thank you so much for your time and kindness.

Kherson, Ukraine, 20 November 2025, 11am.