From Viral to Villain
This week, I went viral for the first time. What should have been a celebration of growth and visibility quickly turned into a crash course in the darker side of online exposure.
The comments poured in, not with thoughtful feedback or real engagement, but with a flood of misogyny, gaslighting, and personal attacks. And not surprisingly, they only came from men.
The Nature of the Abuse
Once the hateful comments started rolling in, I was shocked. I did what many women instinctively do. I started blocking. It felt like the best way to protect myself, remove the comments before they could snowball into more vitriol or attract a pile on.
But afterward, I kept wondering. Should I have left the comments up to expose them? Would transparency help people understand what women in golf really deal with? Or would leaving them visible just amplify the trolls, giving them the attention they crave?
I didn’t block without taking screenshots. Receipts matter. But there is no clear playbook for how to handle this. Every woman I have spoken to in golf has her own strategy. Some never read the comments. Others leave them up and let their communities respond. A few call them out publicly. Many just silently endure because engaging feels too heavy.
But here is what is crystal clear.
The burden of managing hate should not fall on women.
Platforms need to do more. Communities need to step up. And sport, especially golf, needs to confront how hostile it can be to women, both online and off.
The Comments Weren’t Just Criticism. They Were Control.
These were calculated attempts to belittle and silence me.
They mocked my appearance.
They tore down my swing.
They insisted that "ladies’ tees" are named that way because women are physically inferior.
They denied the evolution of club fitting, claiming women need to swing “women’s clubs”.
And then came the name-calling.
Being called a bitch, told I was playing the victim, labeled whiny or a Karen (my sincere apologies to all the Karens).
These weren’t isolated insults. They were familiar tools of dismissal and dehumanization, ways to discredit my voice and invalidate my experience before I could even finish my sentence. The underlying message was clear.
Stay in your place. Don’t challenge the status quo.
I’m not hated for something I’ve done.
I’m hated for breathing.
For being alive in this industry.
That kind of hate is a hard concept to comprehend. But it’s real. And it’s crushing.
Being inherently hated just for existing in this world is a crazy feeling, one that only people who have experienced it will understand.
And to the male golf pros and influencers reading this who have daughters.
How confident are you that if you posted a video of your daughter swinging a golf club online, she wouldn’t receive the same awful comments?
Does it feel different when it’s your daughter being harassed?
Would you speak up then?
Or would you tell her to just ignore it?
But the truth is, these comments don’t disappear if I look away. They stay there, shaping perceptions, emboldening others, and policing our presence in the sport. I know by writing this, I’m putting myself in the line of fire for more awful comments. But saying nothing somehow feels worse. Silence lets this behavior stand unchallenged, and I’ve seen too many women, especially young girls, quit before they even get the chance to fall in love with this game. That’s what we lose when we don't speak up.
A Widespread Issue in Golf
Sadly, this isn’t unique to me. Behind the scenes, I’ve spoken with coaches, creators, and competitive players, women at every level of golf, who’ve received everything from degrading remarks to threats that required police involvement.
This is the environment we’re told to just ignore.
But what are we really ignoring?
The fear.
The damage.
The way this behavior tries to control where and how women exist in the game.
The Psychological Toll
The advice to “just don’t read the comments” is more than dismissive. It’s harmful. These comments don’t just bounce off. They cut deep. And for many women, they become cumulative, internalized wounds. And the comments don’t go away if we don’t read them. They were written by men who believe that women don’t belong in golf which is the bigger problem that seems to get swept under the rug.
According to global research:
58 percent of girls and young women have faced online harassment, much of it sexist or misogynistic
73 percent of girls aged 13 to 21 have received unwanted sexual content online
41 percent of U.S. adults report online harassment, but women are far more likely to face severe forms, like stalking and sexual harassment
(Source: UN Women, Pew Research Center, Avast, Reuters)
So, What Do We Do?
Honestly, I don’t have all the answers. But here’s what feels like a start:
Institutional Accountability: Sports organizations need to do more to protect the girls and women in our sport. Visibility should not come with a cost. Golf associations, governing bodies, and club leadership have a responsibility, not just to grow the game, but to ensure it grows into a space where women and girls are safe, respected, and supported. Silence from the top only emboldens the worst voices in the comment sections.
Community response: We need networks of support that call this out in real time and don’t leave women to fend for themselves
Education and awareness: Digital literacy and respectful online behavior should be taught early and modeled often
If we want more girls and women in the game, we need more accountability from the institutions that say they support us.
Going Viral Shouldn’t Be a Minefield
What was supposed to be a milestone, a sign of success and resonance, felt instead like a warning shot. If you’re a woman and you dare to be visible in golf, be ready for the backlash. Be ready for men who want you small, silent, and scared.
But we’re not going anywhere.
We love this game.
We belong here.
And we are not the problem.
The real problem is a culture that tolerates hate and tells women to manage it quietly.
The real problem is an industry that celebrates “growing the game” while failing to protect the people helping it grow. The real problem is leadership that stays silent when it should be the loudest voice in the room.
It’s not enough to tell women to be resilient. We’ve been resilient. Now we need change.