Olivia “Livvy” Dunne, a rising icon in both the world of gymnastics and pop culture, is facing an increasingly distressing issue that has pushed her into the spotlight for all the wrong reasons. The LSU gymnastics alum, known for her athletic excellence and massive social media presence, broke down in tears in a TikTok video posted on May 30, 2025.
Livvy Dunne emotional outpouring stemmed from repeated and terrifying encounters with groups of men who relentlessly track her down at airports across the country, demanding autographs in increasingly aggressive ways.
Dunne, who recently appeared on one of the four coveted covers of the 2025 Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue, shared that her life has been disrupted by a disturbing pattern: no matter where she travels—whether for business or vacation—a group of “at least 10 middle-aged men” seems to know exactly when and where she will land.
They confront her with stacks of memorabilia, hoping to get her signature, and become hostile when she refuses. Her harrowing account sheds light on a troubling trend in celebrity culture: the line between fandom and stalking is increasingly blurred.
A Frightening Pattern of Pursuit
What makes Livvy Dunne’s situation even more disturbing is the precision with which these individuals track her movements. She explained in her TikTok video that these autograph seekers—whom she described as resembling stalkers more than fans—appear to know her entire travel itinerary, down to the connecting flights in remote cities like Omaha, Nebraska. “They know time, place, airport, everything!!!” she captioned the post, clearly at her wit’s end.
The LSU star detailed that the same group of men would chase her down TSA PreCheck lines, loudly demanding autographs and shouting if she doesn’t comply. “It’s insane,” she told her eight million followers. “They will yell at me and make a scene and the people around me are scared.” These actions aren’t just an invasion of privacy—they’re a public disturbance, and they’re leaving a trail of emotional trauma in their wake.
Who are these losers showing up to the airport to harass Livvy Dunne for an autograph?pic.twitter.com/PBVdCu9rN0
— Sean Joseph (@sjoseph_sports) May 31, 2025
Livvy Dunne said she’s come to expect these men to show up, regardless of how discreet she is with her travel plans. “It’s something with the airline, and it’s weird,” she said, suggesting that there may be internal leaks or other methods being used to track her. The implication is deeply unsettling: even with no social media posts or public announcements, these individuals know exactly where she’ll be.
The Emotional Weight and Lack of Protection
Livvy Dunne’s TikTok included a raw clip of her crying in the back seat of a car after a red-eye flight—visibly shaken by yet another confrontation. She said the men had “circled” her at baggage claim, further emphasizing the intensity and fear that come with these interactions. It’s not merely about signing autographs anymore; it’s about personal safety and mental health.
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The toll of such repeated incidents is hard to ignore. Dunne’s tears in the car are a visible representation of the emotional distress she’s enduring. For a young woman navigating fame in a digital age—where privacy is constantly under siege—this kind of harassment creates a minefield of anxiety every time she steps into an airport.
Perhaps even more troubling is the fact that there seems to be little being done to stop this kind of behavior. Despite repeated incidents and public attention, the same men continue to show up, emboldened and unchecked. Livvy Dunne didn’t mince words when she described the situation as “scary for girls,” adding, “It’s weird.” That helplessness, that sense of being relentlessly hunted without any recourse, is a haunting reminder of how broken the system of protection for public figures can be.
A Larger Pattern of Invasive Behavior Toward Female Athletes
Livvy Dunne is not alone. Olympic sprinter Gabby Thomas also came forward in solidarity, echoing similar experiences with persistent autograph seekers who track her down at airports and public places.
Thomas shared a TikTok video earlier in the year detailing how a group of three to six middle-aged men would follow her, becoming aggressive and hostile when denied. “They have my flight information, even when I don’t even know what time I’m flying out sometimes,” she said, suggesting the possibility of email hacking or internal data leaks.
Thomas’ experience mirrored Dunne’s almost exactly: unexpected appearances in cities like Chicago and Miami, unsettling knowledge of travel schedules, and a pattern of harassment that turns a routine business trip into a traumatic experience. “What scares me is that they have my flight information,” Thomas added, expressing fear for her safety, especially when traveling alone.
The broader implication here is deeply alarming: these are not isolated events. Female athletes and celebrities are being targeted in coordinated ways that go far beyond innocent fandom. The fixation, the methodical tracking, and the escalating aggression all suggest a systemic issue that’s not being addressed. These are not casual admirers—they are repeat offenders who have made a hobby out of crossing personal boundaries.
Livvy Dunne praised Thomas for previously speaking out, saying, “It’s not only me… it needs to stop because it’s scary for girls.” These interactions, though perhaps brushed off by some as the “price of fame,” are causing genuine emotional and psychological damage. For young women like Dunne and Thomas, who have dedicated their lives to excellence in sport, to be reduced to a source of signatures for profit-driven autograph seekers is dehumanizing.
An Urgent Call for Awareness and Change
There is no denying that fame brings with it certain levels of public exposure and attention, but there must be a limit—especially when that attention turns obsessive, invasive, and frightening. Livvy Dunne’s emotional TikTok wasn’t just a personal vent; it was a public plea for understanding, support, and most importantly, change.
In the digital age, where celebrities are expected to constantly share their lives online, there’s a dangerous misconception that this openness equates to availability. Dunne herself acknowledged her social media presence, noting that yes, she’s “chronically online,” but she also emphasized that these encounters are happening even when she isn’t posting anything. “I’m not making content on a connecting flight,” she said. “I’m talking about the most random cities.”
This blurs the boundaries between online persona and private individual. Just because someone shares their life publicly doesn’t mean they forfeit their right to personal space and security. What’s happening to Livvy Dunne is not fan engagement—it’s a sustained pattern of predatory behavior, and it deserves to be treated as such.
The sports community, law enforcement, and airlines must take a serious look at how this kind of stalking is allowed to persist. Whether through better protection at airports, stricter regulations on autograph trading, or internal investigations into potential data breaches, something needs to be done.
Livvy Dunne’s story is one that should awaken all of us to the urgent need for better boundaries, real accountability, and more effective safeguards for public figures—especially women—who are increasingly vulnerable in the face of obsessive and exploitative fan culture.
In the end, her tears are not just a moment of emotional collapse—they are a wake-up call for a society that must decide how far we are willing to let fame erase the right to feel safe.