The bad behavior that never dies
Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo responds to the attorney general's report that he sexually harassed several current and former state employees. Credit: AP
The investigative report issued by the attorney general into sexual harassment allegations against Gov. Andrew M. Cuomo is a tough read. The details make you squirm, and make you angry.
We all come to the report from our own places and experiences, in addition to the prime one of our basic humanity and our hopefully shared sense of right and wrong. For me, it's being the father of three young women making their way through life in their own workplaces.
In that context, I can't help but note that the governor also has three adult daughters, younger than mine but also making their way through life and its workplaces.
And I wonder.
What would the governor say if one of them told him that her 60-something boss had "placed his finger on the top of her neck and ran his finger down the center of her spine midway down her back, and said … 'Hey, you,' " as detailed in the AG's report. And that he "ran the palm of his left hand across her stomach … and pushed his hand back to her right hip." And asked whether he could kiss her, twice, and why she would want to get married when "your sex drive goes down" if you do marry. Would the governor tell his daughter that she was misinterpreting the boss' actions and remarks?
What would the governor say if another daughter told him that her boss had said he wished he could "go out" with her and that it was "about time" she showed off her legs, that he had hugged her repeatedly "to the point where I knew I could feel him pushing my body against his," that on one warm day he suggested she take off the zip-off hoodie she was wearing over a light tank top and she had declined because it would be "inappropriate" and yet the boss "asked again that she take off the hoodie," and that her boss once "slid his hand up her blouse, and grabbed her breast." Would the governor tell his daughter that she had always been an "affectionate person" and an "initiator" of hugs?
What would the governor say if his third daughter told him that her boss had told her "he was lonely and that he wanted a girlfriend" and that he "had not hugged anyone in a long time," and had asked her "if she had ever been with older men and whether she thought age mattered in relationships" and whether "her last relationship had been monogamous," and had kissed her hand and "asked [her] if [she] had a boyfriend and kissed [her] cheek?" Would the governor tell his daughter that her boss was just trying to "give her the opportunity to talk about" issues that were bothering her?
The anger courses and broils as you comb the passages and think about these young women — whether they are your daughters or someone else's.
They were like so many of us. They wanted to be recognized for their intelligence and skills and credentials. They liked their jobs and wanted to be known for being good at them. They were proud of their work and wanted to be given more responsibilities. They believed in the importance of public service and were eager to delve into policies and issues to help make a difference for people all over New York.
There is a certain idealism that comes with these jobs, that comes with many jobs. To see it snuffed out by boorishness — too mild a word for this behavior — is heartbreaking.
Instead of being evaluated mostly for their talents, these women were judged — and mistreated — by the governor because of their appearance.
You don't have to be the father of daughters to know that this age-old story needs to be pulled from the playbook and burned.
Columnist Michael Dobie's opinions are his own.
Michael Dobie is a retired member of the Newsday editorial board.
