He stared at me during my entire dance rehearsal. As my body went through the routine’s motions, I felt my head swiveling back to where his eyes watched my every move. The beads of sweat dripping under my practice clothes chilled when I saw him. You would think having felt his gaze for three straight years that I would be numb to his presence.
My life had become somewhat of a horror movie. You know the opening scene of “Scream” when Drew Barrymore is on the phone with her killer and scared out of her mind roaming throughout the house? That was me every time I saw a new social media notification, email, or instant message. I constantly felt like I was being watched, like my privacy was no longer my own. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, my stalker had become a major part of my life.
Having cheered and danced for years, I was no stranger to performing, but being on the dance team at my university was a whole different ball game. The attention the dancers received was extremely flattering, making it easy to get swept away in the sea of compliments.
When I initially realized I was being stalked, I did not know how to react. I can still remember opening that first message and feeling a rush of blood to my cheeks as I read the completely inappropriate, highly graphic piece of writing about me by someone I had never met — but who I quickly realized had been admiring me from afar. He made it clear that he was a fan of my dancing, my body, and much more. Feeling completely embarrassed — and violated — I chose to ignore the situation.
For years, my stalker would watch my dance rehearsals, attend every performance and game, and hunt me down via every social media outlet he could find me on. I continuously chose to blame myself rather than my stalker. Had I given the wrong impression by smiling too much on the basketball court? Did I dance too sexually during my routines? Being a friendly, charismatic person, I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe I had started it.
Months later, I finally changed my Facebook relationship status to “Single” after a break up with my long-term boyfriend. The tears that dripped into cookie dough ice cream were soon replaced with chills running down my back after receiving a text about the break up from my stalker. He had somehow gotten a hold of my phone number. Feeling alone and more vulnerable than ever, I chose to finally reach out for help. I’m glad I spoke up. It turns out he had a history of violence with a professor and had even checked himself into a rehabilitation center. Without my found courage to share my story, I would have never truly realized the danger I was in.
The term stalker is thrown around so lightly, but when you are actually dealing with one, it’s a truly terrifying experience. My university could not have been more helpful with my situation. They posted my stalker’s photo in my apartment building and appointed security to escort me to and from class and rehearsal — all while being completely discreet. Once the security caught up with my stalker and threatened to go to the police with his wrongdoings, I never heard from him again.
To this day, I still panic when an unknown number calls. Even though I know I shouldn’t be, I’m embarrassed by the situation. Social media has grown tremendously, allowing me to cultivate a strong online presence through my profession. Now I am careful not to post my location in real time and limit the amount of personal information I share with my followers. Even though this incident is now in my past, it’s made me keep my guard up in life.
To anyone who has ever dealt with a case like this, please know it is not your fault.
