I have a stalker
I Have a Stalker
I have a stalker. An online stalker.
It started last September.
Right after the murder of Charlie Kirk.
Like millions of others, my Facebook page discussed it. And like I always do when violence occurs, I was very clear: there is never an excuse for murder. I condemned the killing without hesitation.
But because I had previously criticized Charlie Kirk’s politics, some people decided that meant I was celebrating his death.
I was not. No one on my page was.
My page is moderated and glorifying violence is never allowed there—regardless of who the victim is.
That’s when he appeared.
A man I had never seen before commented on my page. His name meant nothing to me. He had never interacted with my content before.
He posted a notice for a vigil in Brandon.
I removed it and asked him not to post it again.
This isn’t unusual for me. I rarely allow unsolicited advertising on my page—whether it’s businesses, events, or even vigils.
He reposted it.
I removed it again and asked him to stop.
He told me he could do whatever he wanted and that I could not stop him because of “free speech.”
So I told him he was absolutely free to post.
Just not on my page.
And I removed him.
I thought that was the end of it.
I was wrong.
The Harassment Begins
Suddenly I was being tagged everywhere.
Facebook groups. His personal page. Community pages. My personal profile. Instagram. LinkedIn.
The accusations were constant.
I was censoring him. I wasn’t open to other opinions. I was “mean.” And worst of all, he claimed I was celebrating a murder.
That’s when I made a mistake.
A big one.
I engaged.
My page exists because I believe people deserve a voice. So it bothered me that this man genuinely seemed to believe I had silenced him.
So I reached out.
I explained what actually happened: he wasn’t removed for his opinion, he was removed for ignoring the rules of my page. I told him I had never celebrated the murder of anyone.
And to prove I was willing to hear him out, I invited him onto my podcast, Real Talk, for a live conversation.
On September 20, he joined me live on Facebook.
It was the longest 90 minutes of my life.
It wasn’t a debate. It wasn’t even a discussion. It was an attempt to calm anger with reason—and the harder I tried, the worse it became.
I should have ended the stream the first time I had to mute him so I could speak.
I didn’t.
That was mistake number two.
I listened as he explained why he disliked me, my politics, and my advocacy for equality, human rights, and inclusion.
I listened as he argued that hate doesn’t exist if someone sincerely believes what they are saying.
I let him speak.
Then the conversation ended.
I was done.
He wasn’t.
The Obsession
Soon he began screenshotting my posts and reposting them to his own page.
At first he tagged me in every one.
“Were you at this event yesterday? I was looking for you.”
It was unsettling.
I started looking over my shoulder at public events.
I reported the posts. Removed the tags. Blocked him.
Facebook removed very little.
Taken individually, the posts appeared harmless. Meta’s systems don’t evaluate patterns well—especially when harassment unfolds slowly over time.
Some posts crossed the line.
Those were removed when he called me a slur, the C-word is a particular favorite of his.
But once he was blocked, he got not more attention from me.
When I stopped responding, he found a new audience.
The Group
He started posting about me in a local “uncensored” Facebook group.
A group run by a single administrator who openly says he does not moderate content.
His rule is simple:
“If Facebook leaves it up, I leave it up.”
Anonymous posts? Allowed. Slurs? Allowed. Threats? Allowed. Doxxing? Allowed.
Anything goes.
And that’s where my stalker found his audience.
People who already disliked my politics.
People who had been removed from my page for violating basic standards of civility.
People who hide behind anonymous accounts.
Instead of discussing policy, his posts invited attacks on me.
My appearance.
My disability.
My family.
My job.
What Hurt the Most
Let me be clear: I don’t expect everyone to like me.
I’ve run in political debates. I’ve stood on stages during elections. I can handle disagreement.
But this wasn’t disagreement.
This was cruelty.
When I discovered the group, I wasn’t shocked by the insults.
I know I gained weight during cancer treatment.
I know I have an ostomy.
My ostomy saved my life.
Mocking it won’t change that.
What hurt was something else.
How many people I know were in that group.
How many saw the attacks and stayed silent.
How many belonged to organizations I support and still said nothing.
Over a hundred posts about me appeared in that group between September and December.
All from the same man.
And every single post encouraged comments from others who just love to join a group think swarm.
One time, at the beginning, I commented directly on one of his posts asking him to please stop harassing me, to just keep my name out of his mouth and his keyboard. It didn’t end well.
The members of that group laughed at my ‘weakness’, told me how I deserved everything I was getting and more because of my political opinions and social advocacy and if I would just ‘shut up’ no one would bother with me.
One woman, a woman, even said that she was happy to see me ‘getting it’ because one time, over a decade ago I said something that upset her… one time, a decade ago. I had no idea what she was referring to but if something I said hurt her that deeply… I publicly apologized.
It didn’t help.
The Threats
Some posts and comments crossed clear lines.
Meta only removed posts when:
- I was called a “c-word”
My home address was posted
Someone wrote they hoped a “gun nut would light me up”
My children were discussed
My workplace was posted
Someone suggested my husband should beat me - Someone suggested a “good gang rape” would teach me a lesson
But they only remove them if they are reported… which means I was constantly forced to monitor my own harassment and read every word. I reported every one, so did some of my friends who started monitoring the page as well.
I saved screenshots. I have hundreds.
Because anonymous accounts were allowed in the group, it became a game of whack-a-mole.
Remove one.
Another appears.
Seeking Help
I contacted the police.
Without a direct threat or physical act, they said there was little they could do.
I contacted a lawyer.
Defamation requires provable damage to reputation or employment. Because the claims were obviously absurd, there was no viable case.
So legally speaking, the harassment continues until something worse happens.
Our laws haven’t caught up with the internet.
And victims fall into that gap.
Meanwhile I have:
- Had a new $8000 home security system installed – and use it. For the first time in my life
- Stopped attending events alone
- Stopped posting about public appearances
- Reduced my involvement with community groups so they aren’t targeted
- Monitored posts daily to ensure my family is safe
All because one man decided to make me his obsession.
The Administrator
Eventually I confronted the administrator of the Facebook group.
Publicly.
I posted his group name and examples of what he was allowing to be posted about me. The grou is public, so is his name, the fact that he is an administrator (the only one) and his public fabebook profile with his picture. I didn’t do anything to him on my page that wasn’t happening to me in hos group daily. The only difference was I stuck to the facts of what was happening, didn’t make it personal.
My post exploded.
People know him. It’s a small town, they started talking about him. He was tagged.
Suddenly moderation mattered.
He demanded I remove it immediately.
The only comments I removed were the ones where people started talking aout him personally, his workplace, family… I removed all of that immediately, without hesitation. Far more consideration than he every gave me.
He didn’t appreciate the irony. He private messaged me, demanded I remove his name from my page, constantly reiterated that he wasn’t responsible for what people posted i his group, they had ‘free speech’. I hear that one a lot, if they do, so do I.
For ten hours we argued privately.
He told me:
- “If you didn’t post your opinions, people wouldn’t attack you.”
“Did you ask him nicely to stop?”
“I didn’t post it. It’s not my responsibility.”
Eventually we struck a deal.
If his group stopped posting my name, I would remove his.
He started removing the posts and the comments along with him.
He demanded I remove my post. I said I would when ALL of mine were down and there were at least 20 more. He grew angry that I didn’t take his word for it that he would. And then….
‘Undeleted’ the ones he had already removed, intentionally putting them back up on his page to ‘teach me a lesson’.
We aregued more. I went to bed with the posts still up.
I am not sure what happened overnight but when I awoke I had a message from him. Everything was down. And it was.
I have always wondered who reached out to him that night… but he removed all of the posts about me from his page so I removed the one about him from mine.
We struck a deal.
I thought it was done.
Again, I was wrong. He stuck to it – but ONLY if I personally reported any post in his group by my stalker.
He would remove it if I did. So here I was, back to monitoring my stalker and my own public harassment, daily. In effect, I was moderating that cess pool of a page, full of hate, bigotry and sexism, but the only power I had, the only leverage was having my own name removed, everything else remained. That was the deal.
My name stays off his page, or his name goes on mine.
I hated it, I felt sleezy and everytime I saw a post on that page sharing disgusting hate, propaganda and misinformation, there wasn’t anything I could do. It wore on me. Heavily. Every morning before work, every afternoon after work, every evening, I trudged into the sludge just to make sure no one was posting my address or threatening to ‘teach me a lesson’ if they ever caught me alone.
And when I expressed frustration and anger to the administrator for having to monitor his group and my own stalker, he told me he had better things to do than read every post in his group.
His words, not mine:
“I’m doing you a favor.”
He could ban the stalker.
He refuses. Says that it is ‘better for me’ to know it’s my stalker posting because if he bans him, he will just create an anonymous account and post under that.
He could remove anonymous accounts. He refuses. He says, anonymous accounts allow ‘women to feel safe on his page’.
I am not even joking.
Today
As I write this, there have been 165 days since that podcast conversation.
Six months of harassment.
Six months during the first year of my life after surviving stage-three rectal cancer and undergoing an abdominoperineal resection that left me with a permanent colostomy at age 50.
Six months I should have spent celebrating life.
Instead I have spent them monitoring a man obsessed with destroying mine.
Today I told the administrator our deal was over.
His response?
Threats.
“If you post my name again, I’ll make your stalker the admin of the group.”
Extortion.
I could pay him for control of the group so I could stop the harassment myself.
Yes.
I have screenshots.
The Options
After 165 days, these appear to be my choices:
- Continue monitoring my stalker indefinitely.
Accept daily harassment and threats.
Be bullied into silence and abandon my advocacy work.
Pay someone to stop enabling the harassment.
Or…
Option 5. Call it out.
Call It Out
I have survived poverty. Abuse. Addiction. Violence. And cancer.
I share my story because lived experience matters.
Because someone out there might need to hear it.
And because silence helps no one except the people causing harm.
So today I’m choosing Option 5.
I’m calling it out.
Not just for me—but for every person who has been stalked, harassed, threatened, or bullied online and told it’s their fault for speaking up.
We tell women we want them in politics.
We say we want diverse voices.
But when women speak publicly, they are threatened, mocked, and intimidated—and then told to solve the problem themselves.
That is not acceptable.
And it is not sustainable.
There is an entire movement of online hate that subscribes to the theory that ‘words don’t hurt’ and anyone who complains is a ‘snowflake’ or need to ‘get off the internet’.
We put the responsibility and the blame on the victims.
I know I am not the only one out there. I have heard from so many who tell me that they stay silent to avoid the backlash, they don’t speak up for fear of reprisals.
That they are afraid.
They have had their voices stolen by a movement that champions harassment, intimidation and fear.
To everyone out there who has been afrad to speak, to feel like no one is listening if they do,
I hear you.
I see you.
I am you.
Stand strong.
If they have taken your voice, borrow mine.
My name is Michelle Budiwski and I have a stalker enabled by a Facebook group administrator, a platform that profits from engagement, and laws that have not yet caught up to the internet.
Victims shouldn’t have to fight this alone.