The Political Boys’ Club: A Long List of Politicians Accused of Domestic Abuse—and a Short List Facing Consequences

This powerful political boys’ club in the U.S. seems always willing to embrace new members. 

The latest addition—and currently the loudest denier—is Rep. Max Miller (R-Ohio) who denies his former wife’s claims of physical abuse as well as child abuse of their daughter. He also recently claimed it was his former spouse who was violent, not him. 

Former spouse Emily Moreno and her father, Sen. Bernie Moreno (R-Ohio), refute his denials, as his former father-in-law is calling for his resignation, and the House Ethics Committee is investigating the charges.

In the meantime, Miller recently maintained his innocence on social media, saying his ex-wife requested making him dinner—supposedly proof he never assaulted her, held a gun to her head and threw scalding water on her.

Research shows abuse survivors—myself included—practice appeasement as a survival tactic and will attempt to de-escalate a tenuous situation with an abusive partner any way they can to stay safe. Dinner included.

Even without accountability—or even a federal public-health website free from political caveats—there is no denying the prevalence of abuse allegations involving political actors across age, race and party lines.

Believing Women (or Not) Shapes More Than Sexual Assault Cases

Nearly a decade after the rise of #MeToo, public conversations about sexual harassment and assault have entered a new phase—one marked by growing skepticism.

New data from Tulane University’s Newcomb Institute 2025 Violence Experiences Survey suggests that this skepticism extends beyond individual cases. People who are more likely to doubt women’s reports of sexual violence are also more likely to question women’s leadership and their ability to make decisions about their own health.

This matters because believing women—and believing in women—shapes whether survivors come forward, whether they are taken seriously and whether women are trusted in positions of authority. Ultimately, the issue is larger than sexual violence alone. It is about women’s credibility, and whether society trusts women to speak about their own experiences, lead their communities and decide what is best for their health and safety.

Inspired by the Greek Myth, Independent Film Series ‘The Cassandra Project’ Asks Viewers to Believe Women

Even in the wake of the #MeToo movement and heighteend awareness around sexual vioelnce, sexual assault is still one of the most underreported crimes. Although one in four women will experience sexual violence in her lifetime, fewer than 5 percent of these cases ever get reported to the police. In many situations, women fear that the police won’t believe them.

Unfortunately, this fear is well founded. Even though so few reports of sexual assault make it to the police in the first place, data shows that law enforcement will determine that one in five reported cases is “unfounded” and dismiss it.

There are dire consequences to not believing women. The Cassandra Project, a new trilogy of independent short films spearheaded by filmmaker Barclay DeVeau, hopes to illustrate “the profound consequences that arise when women are not believed and their voices are disregarded and dismissed.”

Andrew Tate in His Own Words: On Men’s Rights, Anti-Feminism and How He ‘Threatens the System’

Andrew Tate is not a garden variety misogynist. Nor is he a typical sexual assault suspect.  

Rather, he is a leader—and icon—in the global anti-feminist men’s rights movement who rose to fame and fortune over the past decade through a potent blend of personal charisma, overweening ambition and cynical opportunism.

And he is an alleged rapist and sex trafficker.

He is currently in U.S. federal custody in Miami, along with his brother Tristan, awaiting possible extradition to the United Kingdom on 59 criminal charges that include multiple allegations of violent rape and physical assault.

Andrew Tate is also a right-wing political figure who has vociferously and repeatedly attacked feminism, and has had an outsized influence globally in the normalization of overt expressions of misogyny by men and boys.   

Much has been written about Tate over the years. A recent piece in The New Yorker that has attracted much attention is entitled “Andrew Tate’s Empire of Abuse,” by Heidi Blake. The article’s subtitle reads “How the defining figure of the manosphere built a fortune—and became a political force—by systematically exploiting women.”

But for anyone who wants insight into the ways in which the former professional kickboxer has been able to assemble an enormous following of boys and men, there’s another valuable source of information: Tate himself.

Why the Blake Lively Case Matters—and Why Most Women Like Her Have No Legal Recourse

According to Blake Lively’s allegations, Justin Baldoni repeatedly discussed his porn addiction and personal sex life, made comments about her body and improvised physical intimacy that had not been choreographed.

Her claims were dismissed, not because a judge found them lacking in merit, but for procedural reasons tied to her independent contractor status under California law. The harassment itself was never adjudicated.

In 2019, in direct response to the #MeToo movement, New York state lowered the bar for what constitutes sexual harassment. Under current New York law, a worker cannot be subjected to inferior terms or conditions of employment because of their sex. Behavior that rises above a petty slight or trivial inconvenience is now actionable.

In my practice, I see the real effects of sexual harassment on women every day. That psychological weight is real and costly. Not only are women jumping from job to job to avoid harassers, but companies are also losing talented employees.

It is time for federal law to catch up, lowering the standard so that harassment that subjects women to inferior terms and conditions of employment is actionable, regardless of which state they work in.

A Rape-Survivor-Turned-Prosecutor Is Teaching Women How to Heal

One of us is a doctor, the other a lawyer. We’re also members of a club that no woman ever asks to join, but too many are forced into, often by men they loved and trusted.

JoDee Neil, a Texas attorney and former prosecutor, has spent her career seeking justice for survivors of sexual violence. Now, in her new book Outcry Witness, she tells her own story—one shaped by rape, trauma and the long, uneven path toward healing. As survivors ourselves, we recognized something familiar in each other: the understanding that comes without explanation, and the belief that when institutions fail us, women often become each other’s lifeline.

An “outcry witness” is the first person a survivor tells about their abuse, and that response can shape the course of healing. Neil argues that being believed is not a small act of compassion—it is the foundation on which survivors rebuild their lives.

In an era when powerful men continue to evade accountability, Outcry Witness offers something the legal system too often cannot: validation, community and hope.

Our conversation became more than an interview. It became a reminder that storytelling is itself an act of resistance—that women speaking honestly to one another can challenge shame, expose violence and create the conditions for healing.

“We are at the precipice of the dam breaking,” Neil told me. “We’ve never been able to communicate in real time with each other, to really put the pieces together. … I am so full of excitement to be a part of this movement for humanity.”

Her book is an invitation for survivors to do exactly that.

Carré Otis Has Opened a Door for Survivors of Abuse in the Modeling Industry. Will Others Walk Through It?

A new legal door opened earlier this month in the fight for survivor justice. But it’s not in the United States, where survivors and advocates continue to press for transparency and investigations into Jeffrey Epstein’s larger network and the modeling industry’s potential role in it. It’s in France.

Carré Otis, a U.S.-based former supermodel and board member of the Model Alliance, filed a criminal complaint in French court alleging rape of a minor and human trafficking by Gérald Marie, a former giant of the modeling industry who led Elite Model Management’s European operations from 1985 to 2010.

The complaint alleges that Otis was 17 when Elite sent her to Paris in 1986 and housed her in Gérald Marie’s apartment, where she “mistakenly believ[ed] that he wanted to support her modeling career.” While living there, Otis alleges that Marie raped her on multiple occasions and later arranged for her to be “provided to other wealthy men across Europe.” The complaint also says Otis was never paid for her modeling work.

Marie has denied Otis’ allegations, and because of France’s statute of limitations, cannot be criminally prosecuted for these particular allegations.

Still, Otis’ recent filing could prove consequential well beyond her own case.

After Years of Delays, E. Jean Carroll Is Finally Paid

President Donald Trump has paid writer E. Jean Carroll $5.6 million after exhausting his appeals in the civil case in which a federal jury found him liable for sexually abusing and defaming her. The payment, which includes interest and had been held in escrow during the appeals process, was released after the Supreme Court declined to hear Trump’s final appeal and a federal judge ordered the funds disbursed. A separate $83.3 million defamation judgment against Trump in a different Carroll case remains under appeal.

Where to Watch ‘Ask E. Jean,’ a New Documentary on the Wit, Fury and Fearlessness of E. Jean Carroll

E. Jean Carroll—the colorful author and advice columnist who beat Donald Trump in court twice—is finally getting the documentary treatment in Ask E. Jean, a film that is as poignant as it is entertaining.

Director Ivy Meeropol first reached out to Carroll after reading the devastating yet vibrant New York Magazine piece in which Carroll accused Trump of raping her in a Bergdorf Goodman dressing room decades earlier.

Carroll’s initial response: “I’d rather eat my shoe.”

But Meeropol persisted, eventually convincing Carroll she wanted to tell the fuller story of her life—not just the trials, but her remarkable rise during the heyday of glossy magazines and New York media culture.

The resulting film traces Carroll’s evolution from Indiana cheerleader to professionally fabulous Manhattan raconteur, weaving together archival footage, legal depositions and deeply personal interviews.

Some of the documentary’s most powerful moments come from previously unseen deposition footage, where Carroll recounts the 1996 assault while enduring invasive questioning from Trump attorney Alina Habba. Even in those moments, Carroll remains irrepressibly funny.

Meeropol says the footage reveals “what really happens when someone who’s brought a charge of rape or sexual abuse is deposed,” while also exposing the broader misogyny women confront “from the minute we’re born.”

Meeropol also describes struggling against “The Trump Effect”—fear within the entertainment industry about supporting projects that could provoke retaliation from Trump or his allies. Distributors hesitated, some producers reportedly asked not to be credited, and the film was repeatedly stalled despite strong festival reviews.

But Ask E. Jean is now expanding into theaters nationwide, bringing Carroll’s story to audiences at a moment when the politics of gender, power and public accountability remain impossible to ignore.

Eric Swalwell and the Persistent Problem of Silent Complicity

The Eric Swalwell scandal is an altogether familiar and tired exercise: When allegations surface against a powerful man, the people around him scramble to distance themselves, downplay what they knew, or deny any knowledge at all. And yet, time and again, these cases are described as “open secrets.”

The real question is not just what he did, but what the people around him saw, heard and chose not to act on.

This is where the conversation needs to shift. For decades, sexual assault prevention educators have argued that we need to move beyond the perpetrator-victim binary and focus on the role of bystanders: What could colleagues have done? What kept them from speaking up?

The pressure to be “one of the guys,” to not rock the boat, to protect friendships or careers, remains enormously powerful. If we are serious about preventing abuse, institutions like Congress need to do more than react after the fact. They need to equip people, especially men, with the tools, the permission and the expectation to intervene before harm escalates.