It’s not,” Katrina replied. “My mother was German. She was a dancer ... a very good one, I hear. She danced with both the Kirov and the Bolshoi ...allets. My mother died shortly after I was born, and since she had always liked the name, Katrina...”“I’m so sorry,” Kim sympathized. Then she spoke softly to the woman in Russian.Katrina did a double-take, listened, and then started to howl with laughter. But instead of responding to Kim in Russian, she switched to German. Kim instantly made the. .and it was overwhelming. I looked so different in themirror. And nobody knew.Except, there I was again, turning on my camera trying to explain, torelate, to report somehow what it was that I was experiencing. I wantedto be ordinary. But I didn't feel ordinary. My audience was bothanonymous and connected. I was emerging as a woman and my audience wasthere to guide and share and witness in such an extraordinary way.By day, I'd make my forays in public. This body, my body, feltcomfortable. More

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