Him Again? Andrew Cuomo is the latest alleged abuser to stage a post-MeToo comeback

Thanks to Trump, the bar for acceptable behavior may be lower than ever

After weeks of speculation, Andrew Cuomo finally made it official this month: he's running for New York City mayor. In a slickly produced 17-minute video announcement, he highlighted his accomplishments as governor and positioned himself as a pragmatic liberal in the tradition of F.D.R., Bill Clinton, and Barack Obama. He even extended an olive branch to his one-time nemesis and fellow Queens native, Donald Trump, vowing to work together to support their hometown.

Cuomo briefly alluded to unspecified past mistakes. But at no point in the lengthy video did he acknowledge the reason he stepped down in 2021, after a decade as governor: because an investigation conducted by Attorney General Letitia James concluded that he had “engaged in conduct constituting sexual harassment under New York State and federal law.” The report detailed allegations from 11 different women, many of them state employees.

Despite this track record, Cuomo enters the race as a frontrunner. According to a Quinnipiac poll, he is supported by 31 percent of registered Democrats, putting him well ahead of a crowded field of contenders hoping to unseat the scandal-plagued Eric Adams. Cuomo is running against two qualified women: city council speaker Adrienne Adams and state senator Jessica Ramos, and—at last count—two other men accused of sexual misconduct: Adams and former comptroller Scott Stringer.

“It was definitely a shock, and an unwelcome shock, to read in the news that after all the allegations, after the investigation, after a resignation, that Cuomo would feel emboldened to put his name out there again…and there wouldn't be more of a backlash,” said Jennifer Mondino, director of the Time’s Up Legal Defense Fund, in an interview this week.

If Cuomo’s bid is successful, he’d accomplish something his father, Mario Cuomo, who lost to Ed Koch in a vicious primary in 1977, was never able to do. He’d also earn another dubious distinction as one of numerous high-profile men who have been accused of sexual misconduct only to stage successful comebacks—or evade accountability, thanks to legal technicalities.

Trump offers the most glaring example of men who have been able to uncancel themselves. Not even two years ago, a jury found him liable for sexually abusing writer E. Jean Carroll in 1996. As we all know, thanks to the Access Hollywood tape, Trump has bragged about grabbing women with impunity, and been accused of sexual assault by more than two dozen women—the latest of whom stepped forward just weeks before the 2024 election in which he won the popular vote for the first time.

Bill Cosby and Harvey Weinstein, probably the most high-profile men to be prosecuted for sex crimes in the wake of #MeToo, both later saw their convictions overturned on legal technicalities. Director Brett Ratner, shunned by Hollywood in 2017 after six women accused him of sexual assault and harassment, is now making a documentary about Melania Trump that Amazon has reportedly licensed for an eye-popping $40 million. The once-celebrated comedian Louis C.K., who admitted to masturbating in front of numerous women without their consent, recently announced a nationwide tour.

Last month, self-proclaimed misogynist Andrew Tate and his brother Tristan returned to the United States from Romania, where they were arrested in 2022 on sex trafficking charges. Over the weekend, the brothers sat cageside at a UFC event, where they were greeted by the company’s chief executive, Dana White, who was once caught on camera slapping his wife.

After the hard-fought cultural reckoning of #MeToo, it seems we’ve entered an unfortunate new era of “Ugh, him again?”

“The standard for acceptable behavior is so low that anyone else can clear it,” said Leigh Gilmore, author of The #MeToo Effect: What Happens When We Believe Women. In the age of Trump, men like Cuomo “are hoping that there's a new norm and that the misogyny, cruelty, and lack of accountability will actually work in their favor.”

The struggle against sexual violence is ongoing, and “I think we are moving into a period where the struggle is more difficult,” she added.

Trump’s cabinet offers a sign of those times. Pete Hegseth was narrowly confirmed as Secretary of Defense, despite paying $50,000 to a woman who accused him of raping her in 2017. (Hegseth has dismissed the allegations as “nuisance claims.”) Secretary of Health and Human Services Robert F. Kennedy Jr.—who also happens to be Cuomo’s former brother-in-law—was accused of sexual assault by Eliza Cooney, a family babysitter. (In a text message to Cooney, Kennedy apologized but claimed no memory of the alleged incident.)

Sexual misconduct thrives in “organizations in which the leadership is either silent or complicit about acts of sexual violence,” Gilmore said, citing a report by Sheila Widnall and Paula Johnson. In this context, “people commit [sexual violence] who probably wouldn't have before because it's part of the cultural norm.”

Trump’s comeback has also emboldened misogynist trolls. On election night, white nationalist and Holocaust denier Nick Fuentes tweeted, “Your body, my choice,” triggering a wave of ugly social media attacks on women.

“Young people are being formed in a period where their president is Trump,” said Gilmore, who cites the “manosphere” as an especially problematic space where “misogyny is gleefully embraced, where young—and not so young men—are told that anything they're experiencing as problematic is a result of women taking it away from them… It's a very dangerous message.”

While men accused of wrongdoing get second chances—and lifetime appointments to the Supreme Court—the survivors who step forward with allegations often face intense repercussions that linger for many years, from death threats to ruinous legal fees. Last year, Christine Blasey Ford told CBS News that she still had to hire private security for some appearances—a full six years after she testified that Brett Kavanaugh had sexually assaulted her as a teenager.

Johnny Depp successfully sued his ex-wife Amber Heard for defamation for a Washington Post opinion piece in which she described herself as “a public figure representing domestic abuse” but never mentioned his name. After a six-week televised trial that became a social-media frenzy, she was ordered to pay over $10 million in damages to her ex-husband, one of the highest-paid actors in Hollywood history. (She later settled for a reported $1 million.)

If #MeToo encouraged us to believe women making claims about sexual abuse, it didn’t necessarily make it easier for them to speak out in the first place. Nor did it shorten the radioactive fallout that follows women who make public accusations against powerful men.

As Lindsey Boylan, one of Cuomo’s most vocal accusers, argued in a recent piece for Vanity Fair, the system offers these men some baked-in advantages. Cuomo is being sued by three women for sexual harassment, and thanks to a New York law which ensures legal defense of public officials accused of “any alleged act,” his legal fees are covered by taxpayers. This has enabled him to take a “scorched earth” approach, she writes, gaining “intimate information about accusers through subpoenas and invasive depositions.”

“Here’s a fact that should appall New York voters, especially women: You paid for Cuomo’s lawyers to seek the gynecological records of an accuser. Why? It’s a good question that voters should ask the candidate as he makes the rounds,” Boylan writes.

For many women, “It is like an extended form of harassment,” said Mondino. “It's using the judicial system to continue to harass and really intimidate people.”

For now, Cuomo seems confident that he can fearmonger his way to Gracie Mansion. In the video announcing his campaign, he sounds like a New York Post headline writer, painting a dire portrait of New York as a perilous place overrun with mentally ill people and lethal e-bikes. He vowed to do whatever was necessary to make the city “safe for our daughters—and for yours.”

The irony of a man accused of sexual harassment vowing to make the city a safer place (for females in particular) is rich. But Cuomo could make things better for the women of New York City—by dropping out of the race.

Meredith Blake is The Contrarian’s culture columnist