Lee never got the college experience she’d pictured. After learning that she might have to hire security to attend classes in person, she chose a virtual option instead. (“Online school was really boring,” she laments.) She tried to go to the cafeteria until she realized fellow students were taking videos of her eating. (“It’s so weird,” she says, cringing.) She says the attention escalated to stalking, but she does not want to elaborate. “It was scary,” she says. “I don’t know if I can talk about it.”
(Auburn’s athletic department said in a statement that it was “unaware of any private security advice” given to Lee, and that the school “take our obligation to campus safety seriously for all Auburn students.”)
Lee felt that she couldn’t even confide in her teammates. “A lot of the girls weren’t the nicest to me,” she says. “I just really felt like an outcast, almost. They didn’t treat me that well. I just knew that I couldn’t trust them.” (She adds, “I have a couple of good, really genuine friends there,” but they are athletes in other sports.)
“Having someone of [Lee’s] stature and the attention that came with it was a learning experience for everyone,” says Auburn coach Jeff Graba. “We had a lot of success, and I believe that happened because the team worked together, grew and handled the entire situation with dignity, grace and comradery.”
Lee felt that everyone expected her to produce a perfect 10 in every college event. When she did, she had simply done what she was supposed to do. When she didn’t, she had failed. “Everybody just thinks since you’re the gold medalist, you never make mistakes,” says Jess Graba. (Jess and Jeff Graba are twin brothers.)
Lee thought college gymnastics would be fun. Instead, she found she couldn’t win. In many ways, another Olympic push after winning gold is the same: all downside. At best, you can match what you already did. At worst—and at most likely—you fall short.