'A woman was charged with stalking me. Six years later, she says she's moving into the next street.'

Content warning: this post discusses stalking.

For three years, I was stalked by a woman I had never met. When the stalking started, this woman was a former girlfriend of the man I had recently began dating. By the time she was charged with Unlawful Stalking more than three years later, my partner and I were married. We'd bought a home together. Our children had moved from primary to high school. My brother had a baby. My grandmother passed away. Life went on, but she was always there.

During this time, I received continuous streams of direct messages via various social media channels and text. If I blocked her account, she would make new ones. Sometimes in her own name, and other times, using fake names—but she always made sure I knew it was her. She never concealed her identity. Not back then, anyway.

Sometimes, the contact was daily and intense; other times, weeks of silence would pass. She would attack my appearance, my work, my family; make threats, spread rumours, and mimic my actions. And she would watch.

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I never knew what was coming, or when. I followed the usual advice — block and ignore. But, the more I ignored it, the longer it went on. And the longer it went on, the more intense it became. She abused, insulted and threatened me. She contacted members of my family, and eventually took her assault public, using imagery, memes, captions and hashtags to deliver her vulgar messages. My online identity was stolen, my address was posted online. She knew where I’d been. She knew where I lived. How? I may never know.

A pattern of behaviour that inflicts fear.

Over time, a stalker learns to inflict fear without drawing attention to themselves, establishing a sort of coded language; words and phrases that mean something only to the perpetrator and victim, making it all the more difficult to report if you decide to.

I reported my experience to the police three times over three years, and it wasn't until the third time that I was taken seriously. With the assistance of a female police officer, and the support of an independent witness who had observed the stalking from afar, this woman was charged with Unlawful Stalking. She received a two-year probation order, and I was granted a two-year restraining order.

While the entire experience was traumatic, the most disconcerting aspect of the ordeal was knowing there is a person out there, fixated on you, for such an extraordinary amount of time, and with such negative intensity.

Like most people, my understanding of stalking outside a domestic violence context was misguided prior to her arrest. I imagined heavy breathing on the telephone or a stranger in the bushes. And while that does constitute stalking, it encompasses so much more than that.

Stalking is defined as a pattern of behaviour that inflicts fear. Often the behaviours in isolation aren’t illegal, they may not even seem frightening from the outside looking in. This can make it incredibly difficult to prove, and in Australia, it's particularly challenging to obtain appropriate guidance from a police force that are more accustomed to managing crimes in past or current tense, rather than the complexity of the "ongoing" crime of stalking.

I thought that would be the end of it.

After the stalker's conviction, I felt empowered to use my journalism to shine a light on an invisible crime that impacts thousands of people, many who suffer silently, quietly fearing judgement, not knowing where to turn. I wrote about my experience in Obsession, which also analyses the psychology of stalkers, and society's failings when it comes to the recognition of stalking, and attitudes towards it.

Countless women, and many men, reached out to thank me for validating their experiences; for articulating how they felt — their helplessness, their silence.

My restraining order and the perpetrator's probation period ended in January this year.

In the lead up to this date, I was made aware of a new social media account in the perpetrator's name. This account appeared to be counting down to the restraining order's end. I was unnerved, disturbed by what seemed like continued fixation — despite a two-year pause — and frightened by what that might mean. I advised police, who said they'd add it to the file, though this was not a breach, they told me.

Several more posts were made, with clear, but subtle references to me. Here, she used that coded language, developed over years of harassment. Familiar words, familiar turns of phrase, carefully chosen images—all to send a message.

To the average person, this may not sound like much, but these small actions tell me one thing: I am still watching you.

I blocked the account and tried to put her out of my mind, despite that familiar unease. And I kept quiet. Again. Slowly but surely, the posts continued, each one a little more direct. But still not enough to report.

And then, six months after my restraining order ended, the person convicted of stalking me for years (who was not local to me), posted publicly that she was moving to my suburb, and into the street adjacent to mine. She named the street and the suburb. Several days later, she posted an image of a takeaway menu from the Thai restaurant, located minutes from my home.

She is less brazen now that I've spoken out. She won't use my name publicly. Or hasn't so far. She hasn't messaged me directly. But stalkers know how to make you aware of their existence in the most cowardly and covert way.

And for the past several months, she has ensured I know she's still watching — six years later.

Six years.

Only now she lurks in the shadows. Only now she lurks near my home.

This time, however, I am not remaining silent. I am sharing my experience in solidarity with other victims of stalking, who struggle to articulate the insidious nature of it, and the big symbolism in small actions that may seem insignificant to others.

A stalker with a clean slate.

When I contacted police with my concerns, I was told any new actions would have to be investigated as a separate stalking matter, rendering the extensive history of stalking, irrelevant.

"This is a particular challenge with criminal behaviour that is characterised by persistence," explains stalking expert, Professor Troy McEwan.

"If the stalking continues after the person is charged and convicted (and in many cases it does), the behaviour that led to conviction cannot be used as part of a further stalking case, because the person cannot be found guilty twice for the same behaviour.

"So the victim then must wait until the stalking has persisted for long enough that the police can respond with further charges."

During that time, Professor McEwan explains, the risk to the victim will continue.

"Just responding to stalking by investigating crimes and charging them is not enough, victims need a proactive prevention response that isn't reliant on there being a current criminal investigation."

Without intervention, stalkers can leverage off the shared language developed during their first bout of offending, without being held accountable for it—essentially, they're given a clean slate to recommence, and the skills to do so in a way that reduces the risk of prosecution.

"It's not uncommon for people who stalk to use the criminal justice and other government systems against the victim," explains Professor McEwan.

"For victims… this… is actually a continuation of the stalking."

"Just don't look."

Stalking affects one in five Australian women and one in 13 men. Despite its frequency, and the fact that it's illegal, attitudes remain overwhelmingly dismissive, both by the public and the police. When it comes to cyberstalking, attitudes are even more blase. Victims are told to simply 'log off', however, research shows this doesn’t work.

I've interviewed dozens of stalking victims and almost every one of them reported being told to ignore it, don't read the messages, don't look at the content, or something similar.

But here's the thing. When it comes to stalking, ignoring it won't make it go away. And just because you don't know about it, doesn't mean it's not happening. Unlike an internet troll, who feeds off interaction and reactions generally, a stalker's fixation is on a specific person, meaning their psychological needs differ significantly.

In other words, while trolls engage in trolling for the fun of provoking a response, stalkers are more emotionally invested in pursuing a victim.

That means blocking and ignoring a troll may leave them bored, and ultimately move on to troll someone else. Conversely, deleting your accounts or ignoring a stalker who is already heavily invested in their target may have the opposite effect, potentially prompting them to pursue their victim in real life. In fact, research suggests between 70 and 80 per cent of online stalkers also stalk offline, and this can also be done overtly or covertly.

As part of my research, I spoke with a former homicide detective who had also experienced online stalking by a female who was unknown to him. He told me he actively kept across her movements, including reading the barrage of emails, for his own safety, as well as his family. Knowledge is power, he said.

An invisible crime.

According to stalking expert, Professor Cleo Brandt, countries such as England, the Netherlands and parts of the US are well ahead of Australia in the way stalking is managed.

"The main risks associated with stalking are persistence—that it just keeps going and all the associated psychological, financial, social, occupational and physical impacts (of that, and) the risk of violence," Professor Brandt says.

"Some stalkers are clever and can manipulate the system, but to be honest, for many the problem is mainly that the consequences of their offending aren’t significant enough to stop them."

Currently, there are multiple potential points of failure, says Professor Brandt.

"Police have to recognise and charge with stalking, prosecutors have to not bargain away the charges, magistrates have to understand this is not just someone making a nuisance of themselves. And that’s just the criminal justice side of things, there is also the safety aspect that needs to be continually managed."

At the heart of the problem is a lack of knowledge, awareness and also understanding of the impacts that stalking has.

"There's also an element of, not necessarily victim-blaming, although that too occurs, but some sort of expectation that's placed on the victim to somehow manage the stalker—'just ignore them', 'just get off social media' and more unhelpful 'advice'."

This response often drives victim-survivors further into silence. While I've chosen not to name the person who stalked me, despite her conviction, I am sharing my story to empower those who feel unable to share or report their experiences, or whose voices are being drowned out by their perpetrators.

After years of keeping quiet, validation from the justice system gave me my voice back. Hearing the experiences of other victim-survivors gave me the courage to speak louder.

I hope by continuing to speak out against stalking, while educating people about the psychology behind it and its serious impacts, attitudes may change, empowering victim-survivors to seek support and protection, and, more importantly, receive it.

If this has raised any issues for you, or if you just feel like you need to speak to someone, please call 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 732) – the national sexual assault, domestic and family violence counselling service.

Mamamia is a charity partner of RizeUp Australia, a national organisation that helps women, children and families move on after the devastation of domestic and family violence. Their mission is to deliver life-changing and practical support to these families when they need it most. If you would like to support their mission you can donate here.

Feature image: Getty.

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