Digital Harassment: My Story and Stand During Women's History Month

Trigger warning: Domestic violence, cyberstalking, and harassment.

I cleared my calendar this week—stepping away from client work to focus on creative projects and rest. I kicked off Monday feeling positive and excited about the space I’d created for myself. Then, with a single notification, everything shifted. A familiar name appeared in my inbox through my website’s contact form. There he was—again. And here I was—again.

When I launched my website, I worried about this happening—making myself accessible in ways that didn’t allow me to block certain individuals. But running a small business requires visibility. I hoped I was being paranoid and told myself I needed to push those fears aside. Maybe I was overthinking it, after all.

I wasn’t.

Around lunchtime, I became aware that a toxic ex-boyfriend had again leveraged my business website to try to “connect.” He submitted the same form with a different email address and a different tactic to try to break through twenty years of silence. It had the same goal as always—to gain access to a space in my life where he knows he is unwelcome and unwanted. From an outsider's perspective, his outreach every few years might seem like a harmless attempt at reconnecting. But as years of experience and legal/professional resources have taught me, his approach and words are a coded form of cyberstalking and obsessional relationship intrusion.

When I broke up with this person two decades ago, I tried to maintain some semblance of friendship, given our history before becoming romantic partners. He refused to accept it. He called and texted me to the point that I had to change my number and block him on social media. When that didn’t work, he started hiding his number and calling me at work—forcing me to explain to colleagues why I wasn’t taking the calls. He messaged my best friend and others, insisting that he just needed to speak with me. I thought that cutting off all contact, threatening legal action, and moving on with our lives would be the end of it.

It wasn’t.

For twenty years now, he has used the internet to find ways around the communication barriers I’ve put in place. I learned from experience that each time I set up a new social media account, I must make sure he’s blocked; otherwise, he inevitably messages me. Friends and family already know not to engage with his requests for contact with me. But launching a business and putting myself out there created new digital vulnerabilities.

Fortunately, I have long had a process in place: I alert my people, document the contact, and check if the laws have changed enough for me to finally file an order for cyberstalking protection. (A huge thanks to the judge I’ve spoken with, who validates my experience but had to inform me that the antiquated state law only protects you if you feel physically threatened by a former romantic partner. Blah.) It has taken me two decades to get the courage to share my story, as I know that anyone who can identify him will find it hard to believe that a veteran who runs a nonprofit doing good for others can continue toxic behaviors on an intimate and personal level. But it’s real, documented, and a part of my lived experience.

So every few years when these breaches happen, my body reacts before my brain fully processes. The panic arises and my blood boils. I’m transported back to the months of anxiety, the undercurrent of fear, and the anger I feel each time I hear another woman’s story about men feeling entitled to their time, attention, and existence. I am far from the only professional and small business owner who must spend energy navigating toxic masculinity in ways that most people never have to think about. And my experience is far less dangerous than those who fear more than repeated interruptions of emotional and mental safety, but it’s real and it’s relevant.

If this sounds like your story (and believe me, I know you’re out there)—I see you and stand with you. We will continue to rise above. We will continue to protect ourselves and each other, even when it derails our damned to-do lists and peace of mind. I believe in mental health support. I believe in people’s capacity for change. But at the end of the day, “no means no,” and when the brilliance of an interconnected digital world is weaponized against you—in whatever form and with whatever frequency—shit gets real. Women have every right to take up physical and digital space, to demand mental and emotional safety, and to keep moving forward on our terms as people, professionals, and small business owners.

Until next time, keep advocating, y’all…