When Emma Raducanu won the US Open in 2021, she shot to global fame overnight — a fairytale story of a qualifier capturing a Grand Slam. But the spotlight has cut both ways since then: flattery and admiration, yes, but also criticism, stress, and unwelcome intrusion. Raducanu has spoken openly about how that win became both badge and burden. She says the constant comparisons, the expectation that she repeat the miracle, wore her down. Every match afterwards came not just with opponents across the net, but with the weight of legacy, people wondering if ‘that 2021 Emma’ was her peak or just the beginning.
One of the darkest shadows off-court has been her stalking ordeal. In Dubai earlier this year, a “fixated” person showed up — in stands, outside matches. Emma said she “could literally barely breathe,” that she “couldn’t see the ball through tears.” The fear was real. She felt unsafe even going about daily things. And although a restraining order followed, the emotional aftermath lingered. It changed how she moves, how she trusts the environment around her. She admits she’s wary when she goes out alone. Always watching, always streetlight-aware.
Add to that the mental side: people told her she wasn’t tough enough; she overtrained, hiding pain until her body forced surgery. Wrists, ankle — she explored every way to compensate. And therapy? She tried. But found many of the professionals just didn’t “get” the weird unique mix of elite athlete pressure + media frenzy + personal safety fears. She’s said therapy felt unrelatable, that sometimes the only person she could rely on was herself.
Then there’s recent disappointment on court. At the Korea Open, Raducanu was knocked out after a dramatic three-set match with Barbora Krejcikova during which she held three match points. It was a painful miss — particularly as she had been building momentum after early exits at majors. Her emotions were raw; the point loss felt personal, like another moment where expectations clashed with reality.
But if there’s one thread that runs through all of this, it’s resilience. Emma does not deny pain. She doesn’t sugarcoat the moments when she doubted. But she also doesn’t let the darkness define her story. She says she’s tough. She repeats it, not as a bravado, but as truth: that someone who’s gone through what she has and still wakes up, still hits balls, still shows up — that person is tough. She is tough. And whether it’s legacy, trauma, or match point loss, she leans into the discomfort, not away.
Because maybe for Emma Raducanu, the bravest thing isn’t winning a Grand Slam. Maybe the bravest thing is being vulnerable in front of millions, surviving the storm, and still standing when the lights go out.
