By Cheryl Moore
I have no experience as an employee of the Jewish communal or academic worlds. I have extensive experience, however, as a volunteer in the Jewish communal world. I have held leadership positions in local, regional, national, and international organizations, and at every level, I have experienced #metoo moments, hours, months. The cumulative effect of these, primarily intense shame, led to my exit from 90% of my Jewish communal leadership roles.
What happened that made me feel ashamed? There were the fleeting moments when adrenaline was flowing and lips were loose, like when I was about to reel in a big donor to a national organization, and one of its top staffers told me, in front of a group of other staffers and volunteers, that if I closed the potential donor, he could get me alone in a room and “on the lap of” an Israeli leader that I admired. Or when a staffer of the same organization asked me, in a packed bar filled with conference-attendees, why we were not “f*cking each other’s brains out.” Or when a powerful lay leader of a national organization told me that he had saved a chair for me next to an important United States Senator, because he knew that Senator “would just love some special attention from me.”
I am almost never at a loss for words, but when these things happened, I just smiled and awkwardly laughed. What could I say? “I’m not remotely interested in having sex with you.” “Why are you pimping me out?” Those are not in my repertoire of responses when I am in public and actively trying to achieve something for a cause in which I believe. I also had the strong impression that if I had protested in a serious way, I would have been met with a condescending comment about how I was overreacting. Each of those interactions left me feeling ashamed and wondering what it was about me that projected that I would go along.
There was the lawyer who worked with an organization of which I was president. When I didn’t reciprocate the intensity of his professed desire, he called me to tell me that he had been meeting with the CEO of an organization, discussing succession planning, when she threw out my name as a candidate. I was quick to tell him that I was very flattered, but did not see myself as a qualified successor. He chuckled and, before hanging up on me, said, “Don’t worry. I told her a lot of bad things about you.” Unsure of what to do to address this injustice, I cried tears of shock and horror, absorbed the sting, and moved on.
Then, I was elected to the board of a national organization and was immediately asked to serve on its executive committee. At the second meeting, as we toured a museum, I noticed a man staring at me. I had never seen him before, but noticing that other people seemed to be making quite an effort to talk with him, I assumed that he must be a macher. On the shuttle bus to dinner, he sat next to me, joking and offering an awkward combination of flattery and torah lesson. He invited me to come out to a club with him and another board member after the dinner. I asked him who he was and when he told me his name, I immediately recognized it. I decided that since he was old enough to be my father, very prominent in philanthropy, and known for his work with his family, and since another board member would be with us, it would be ok. The evening turned out to be a drunken free-for-all at one of that city’s most famous clubs, with this guy all over me. The other board member, looked horrified and concerned, but just managed to say, “This is pretty crazy.” After six months of confusion and shame, I walked away from a project on which I had been very excited to work.
Finally, there was the mega-donor who, as we sat in the crowded lobby of the David Citadel hotel, in Jerusalem, reached over and squeezed my breast. When I gasped, he said “I thought you’d be flattered.”
What do all of the above interactions have in common? Very public, outrageous and/or crude comments and behavior, observed by others, but questioned by no one. I think that each of these men enjoyed being able to “get away with” the behavior. It was machismo at its core. Knowing that they would not be called out was part of the thrill. After all, they could have made their comments and gestures in private. Instead they chose public places, often packed with people. They knew that no one would criticize or stop them, that they would not be asked to step down, or divorced. It was as if they were directly challenging those around them to step in. I wasn’t the first person that they had treated this way and I wouldn’t be the last. What occurred had nothing to do with something that I projected. It happened when I was single and when I was married, when I was very young and more mature, when I was new to the volunteer world and known as an effective leader.
It has often been said that for bad things to happen, good people have to stay silent. Until staffers and volunteer leaders of organizations step up and call people out for disrespectful and inappropriate behavior, it will continue. Until the dignity of one young woman is equal to the million dollar donation (and even all of the people that will benefit from that donation), it will continue. Until people accept that the generous but handsy guy needs to be more closely watched, it will continue. It is too late for me though. I’m never coming back.
Cheryl Moore, B.A., M.B.A., B.S.N. is a Women’s Health nurse, living in Pittsburgh, PA. She is passionate about caring for the vulnerable. She used to be a dedicated volunteer leader in the worldwide Jewish community, but today prefers to engage more privately.
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These are pretty terrible stories. Understandably painful and both embarrassing and shameful. Where is the support and wise counsel of our professional community to help this seemingly expert volunteer? Unfortunately in my own experience as a manager of volunteers I have heard similar stories. The Jewish community professionals must support their volunteers. There should be awareness training, who to contact for negative experiences. Our expert staff must value and encourage our volunteers to seek help just as weould for our paid staff. Some years ago at JNF we had a similar situation with an older male major gift donor who was being suggestive to younger staff. We met as a team and developed a strategy to meet with him and address his behavior. Yes we worried about losing the gift, overall keeping staff and volunteers safe and comfortable was more important. The risk had to be taken. Initially the gift was not lost but we made it clear to him such behavior could not continue…not in our organization. After a few years he decreased his activity with us and his involvement. We were relieved to see him go. Yes we lost the donation but it was worth it; we stood by our principles.
I am so sorry to hear this, and so sad not to be surprised. You are correct to call this out and my heart hurts for the treatment and disrespect you have been subjected to. This seems to be as significant a social action cause as the many amazing life saving programs which operate and which you’ve been involved with. Hoping your cry is acknowledged and acted on by many.
This is so infuriating and I am sorry it happened to you. I am glad we are all coming forward to share our experiences, it’s painful but shining a light on the darkness is a pivotal step toward change. We need to see clear, measurable responses and processes put in place. I know that leadership is meeting on this in various ways so I hope they take our stories into account and do something across the board in Jewish communal life to instill prevention and accountability, and to foster cultural changes.
Cheryl, Thank you for your courage, not only for writing and sharing this very moving piece, but also for revisiting those painful experiences. We know that this behavior is rampant and we know that it must be stopped. The people served by that million dollar donation are not more valuable than the potential life-long trauma of those perpetrated against by the abusive donors. Articles like yours will, I believe, have the effect that others have: women will see themselves and recognize the perpetrators. What we’ve seen with #gamani/#metoo is that the women band together and comfort each other and give each other courage to act. Your sharing your story, as heartbreaking as it is to read, is serving the Jewish community, yet again, and this time people are listening.
I agree with Cheryl’s assessment that until one woman’s dignity is more important that any donation, donor, or influencer, that they degradation of women will not stop. I do not believe the professional staff are in any better position to do anything. Staff is hired not to be the sexism/harassment/aussault police and they have livelihoods at stake. If you think this is how volunteers are treated, try being the hired help. Staff stories are that and more, but who can risk telling those stories when women have to pay bills and eat with those salaries? Women are the majority of staff, but the power brokers and most major organization heads are still men. In addition, the lay leaders of whom Cheryl so articulately speaks are the bosses. Staff report to supervisers who report to CEO’s/executive directors, who are hired and fired by the very same lay leaders on those very same boards. This doesn’t stop until the ethics Jewish organizational leaders follow has no tolerance for sexism or its related bahaviors and lay leaders and staff become partners in calling it out and holding perpetrators accountable by expelling them from their power positions and refusing their money. We must in one clear voice say your money has no value and you have no power unless your most important lived value is respect for boundaries. So, nu? Where are the statements on accountability steps from major Jewish leadership? Crickets…
“It was as if they were directly challenging those around them to step in.”
As a man, the stinging, horrifying question to me is:
Where were the men?
Not the self-entitled machers who translate power into license for piggishness, but the real men, the men who recognize that women are our sisters, our partners, our fellow humans who deserve justice.
Why did no man take the challenge?
Where were (are) the men?
I am in tears. We have known each other for decades and yet and I had no idea that you had experienced so many horrific incidents like the ones you describe here. This is the scarring impact that power-abuse can have: Not just the loss of an innovative, effective, passionate leader like yourself, but also the isolation that would have you manage this pain in isolation, unable to share it with friends or volunteer colleagues. It is heartbreaking to me that the Jewish world and our community has lost your irreplaceable voice.
Cheryl – thank you for having the courage to step forward and share your experiences. I found the article deeply disturbing, but equally as upsetting was the realization that it came as no surprise. I have witnessed similar acts over the course of my career and fear we are not moving fast enough to solve the root cause which I term “cash versus culture.”
The increasing frequency of these narratives is a wakeup call that these abhorrent behaviors are not as isolated as one might want to believe. Be clear, one incident is enough, but multiple stories represent a pattern that we must address. The consequences of refusing to act or passively ignoring the issue is, I believe, devastating to our Jewish community psyche. We must do better and repel individuals who behave inappropriately, regardless of the financial consequence. If not I truly believe we put our communal soul at risk. I am not naïve – I know how tough these choices can be when the ‘opportunity cost’ of ethics and values is the potential loss of service to those in need. But the calculation must be made and anything that deviates from our core ethics/values is unacceptable. FYI – I do know of communities/organizations that have made the right ethical and moral choice and distanced or expelled the perpetrator. We need more of that kind of action and leadership.
In your case I am so sorry that we have lost your talent and passion. Shame on us – we must do better and maybe if you see the tide change we will get you back!
Either there is something unusual about this woman that explains why this kept happening to her, or this happens to many women who never speak up about it.
It has to be one or the other. I don’t know which one, but I can’t think of any other explanation that I’ve never heard of such outrageous behavior until now.
I’m not blaming the victim – the unusual thing could totally be the fault of the perpetrators. But this story’s lack of replicability (so far) is a puzzle that has to have a logical answer.
David Benkoff, I think you already know the answer to your question. In your own words: “this happens to many women who never speak up about it.” This story’s “lack of replicability” is not a difficult puzzle and the only logic one needs to apply is that few women are as brave and as articulate as Cheryl in sharing such painful experiences.
In fact, the perpetrator of sexual abuse completely counts on the fact that the woman will feel ashamed, as if she somehow pulled such abusive behavior out of an otherwise good man. In your own words again… as if there’s “something unusual about this woman that explains why this kept happening to her.”
The whole #gamani/#metoo movement is the answer to your question. Yes, it happens often. Yes, it happens in every community. Yes, it happens in every industry. The only “unusual” thing here is that Cheryl is braver than most. She is simply holding up the mirror to show us that the Jewish community is not immune from such perpetrators, or from shaming women into silence. This bravery has always been a part of Cheryl’s leadership. We should be as brave in crafting ethical responses and making our community a place that will not tolerate such abuses, no matter which powerful people might be outed, or what donations they might withdraw. Some money is too expensive.
Mr. Benkof,
I don’t know what professional field you are in; I truly hope it isn’t counseling or human resources because when someone bares his/her soul, your response is the diametric opposite of what a human being should reply.
Yes, you are indeed “blaming the victim.” by implying that there’s “something unusual about this woman” and oddly implying a demand for “replicability” (whatever you believe that means). Were you hoping for more lurid details from Ms. Moore?
What Ms. Moore describes is the dirty secret of non-profit organizations that is finally being exposed. That you haven’t heard about any of these things is immaterial.
David,
I’d like to address your comment – “either there is something unusual about this woman that it just keeps happening to her – or it happens to many women – who never speak out about it” is simply not true. First, it happens to many women, if not most. In fact, since the #metoo movement started, there has been a Jewish communal movement where women have begun speaking up, acknowledging the harassment and assault they have had to deal with throughout their careers.
But I am not here to talk about “other women”, I am here to share about myself as the 20-something Jewish professional I used to be 2 decades ago, where harassment and mild forms of assault happened on such a regular basis that it barely registered after a while. First there was the ED of a Federation that ran his fingers through my hair in the middle of the General Assembly saying “he just couldn’t help himself.” When I brought this to a senior professional in the organization, she told me I should really consider cutting off my hair so that I wouldn’t be so enticing. Then there was the mayor of an Israeli city who, at another GA, propositioned me – and when I declined, managed to lurk near me and continuously harass me, which another colleague thought I should find “flattering” instead of threatening. This was followed by a proposition by another Israeli that “he would finally get his way with me” in the hallway in my office, when he heard that we were attending the same off-site meeting. In both instances, when I brought it up, I was told “Israelis would be Israelis.” I have sat in donor meetings with mega-philanthropists who have chuckled as they kibbitzed over which one of them was “f-cking me” – both of whom were at least 50 years my senior – as I cringed, waiting for their form of “locker room talk” to end so that I could carry on business. I have arrived at other donor meetings in hotel executive lounges where a donor arrived in a bathrobe – and nothing more. I have had more hands on my shoulder as they gripped a little too firmly, or hands graze my leg as I sat at the hotel bar during a Jewish conference (where everyone knows the real business happens) that I literally appointed a male friend of mine my “conference husband.” His job was to make sure that nobody got “too aggressive” and he gave me the ability to be in the bar without too much nervousness. But never, did I ever feel equal.
The stories go on – but at some point, probably two points ago, the point should have been made. It happened so often that after the initial shock wore off, I literally turned a blind eye to it, just so I could do my job.
The reason I bring all of this up now, is that I, too, left. When you ask “whether there was something unusual about this woman”, what you are doing is placing the blame. When I was in my 20s, maybe I was unusual. I was a passionate young woman who knew how to speak to a crowd. I was good at being with donors, old and young, because I had close relationships with my grandparents and all of their friends. I loved people, I loved Judaism and I loved Israel – and because of all of the above, I was good at my job.
None of that should have precluded me from being treated with respect. And yet, time and again, I was reminded that I wasn’t on equal ground or safe – and I learned to accept that – until I couldn’t anymore.
The Jewish community has to do some serious reckoning. We have allowed this behavior to run rampant because some feel that it is the cost of keeping our community supported, and others have become complacent because, perhaps like I was, tired of my complaints falling on deaf ears.
I can only hope that this #metoo moment sheds some light. Unusual or not, it happens to so many of us – and it’s not ok.
Read about David Benkof and then we will all understand his out-of-touch comment to this brave story which undoubtedly could be told by countless women, and I suspect many men as well.
There is no such thing as something “unusual” about anyone that provokes abuse or sexual harassment. Cheryl, thank you for your bravery in speaking out. The tide is turning in favor of heightened awareness and in opposition to inconsiderate bunglers like David Benkof. David, I wonder at your assertion that anyone could provoke harassment, unless that is an excuse you have used for your own actions.
GC (your real name please?)
Everything knows ad hominem arguments are the weakest kind.
Spin again!
MM-
I don’t know who you’re arguing with. You say my point My is “not true” and then you demonstrate from personal experience that as you’ve experienced it one of the possibilities I listed IS true!
Wow!
That’s four straw man arguments and an ad hominem. There seems to be a desire for a “villain” in this conversation and I refuse to be it.
Anyone who wishes to know my opinion should go back and read my original comment, which hasn’t even been addressed by the above remarks, much less refuted.
I’m outta here.
Following this discussion closely, I was curious as to who David Benkof is. Turns out [unless there is more than one], he can be found on Wikipedia:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Benkof
For me, Cheryl Moore’s essay is remarkable on two counts: (1) That she came forward and was willing to publish it; (2) That lay leaders were subject to same harassment and shaming as those of us who were paid to do our jobs in the Jewish communal community. I spent most of my professional life working for national Jewish agencies. The harassment from both senior staff and lay leaders publicly and privately was rampant throughout my career for both me and my female colleagues – and was there for all to see. It never, ever occurred to me that lay leaders received similar treatment. Thank you, Cheryl, for having the courage to enlighten us! It sounds like you are now in a more caring field – may you derive comfort from your good works. Your absence in the Jewish world is everyone’s loss.
How very very brave of my daughter to write this. Cheryl”s mom
Gutsy story, which I’m sure was cathartic for the author
That said, I think it’s hypocritical for Cheryl to ask others to intercede on her behalf when she doesn’t even have the chutzpah to name names. She needs to step up too. All the way up.
FYI, I have stepped up.
Victor Epstein, if you chose to tell your story by “naming names,” then that was how you wanted to handle something that happened to you. I’m glad you had the opportunity to choose that for yourself. And I hope it yielded the results you wanted.
Here’s the thing, though. You don’t get to make that decision for anyone else. You don’t get to tell Cheryl or anyone else what they need to do in order to make their story more satisfactory for you. And you absolutely don’t get to call Cheryl hypocritical for not handling this the way you think she should.
She told her story with all of the details she wanted to include and none of the ones she didn’t. Her writing was articulate and careful and thoughtful and – most of all – HERS. Choosing how and what to share returns some measure of power back to a person who was disempowered by an abuser. And telling anyone how to share the story of their own victimization is simply a way of re-victimizing that person. I’m sure that’s not what you wanted to do here.
Cheryl doesn’t need me to stand up for her. She is one of the strongest, most intellectually honest people I have ever worked with and I am honored to call her my friend. I choose to stand up for her in this public forum because it is my way of standing with her as she shares painful truths that will benefit all of us in the end.
This story is horrifying, and my heart goes out to Cheryl. Thank you for having the courage to finally tell your truth. I am sorry it took so long for you to feel you could, and it’s a loss to our community of your voice and your expertise. Thanks, too, to eJewishPhilanthropy for publishing these pieces. They need to be written and heard.
In my early career in business, post college, this behavior was rampant, but it truly was considered the norm, and since I didn’t think I had power or a voice, I just did what I could to avoid the perpetrators. Then I worked for a dozen years for an “older” European woman philanthropist, and saw how people treated her: with respect, and courtesy. As a development professional in the Jewish community for the past decade and a half, perhaps because I now am older, I have not had the same experience as detailed in the story, but am well aware it has existed. I am happy to now see a younger generation of donors and professionals behaving appropriately. Perhaps it is the cumulative effect of all the empowerment movements: for women; people of color; those with disabilities; etc. Everyone deserves respect.
I so greatly admire the author for her honesty. These stories need to be told. Disclosure is a predicate to change.
Cheryl, thanks for sharing and for bringing your experiences out in the open. As a woman who has worked on the professional side as an executive for 30+ years these incidences are not surprising to me and just scratch the surface. The scenarios and vulnerabilities of being on the professional side can be even more challenging. Many of us got used to this kind of behavior and kept quiet because defending a paid professional versus admonishing a major donor wasn’t a realistic expectation in the past. I am pleased you are exposing this publicly and admire your courage for doing so.
“I also had the strong impression that if I had protested in a serious way, I would have been met with a condescending comment about how I was overreacting. ”
There it is. And some people wonder why more women haven’t complained or told their stories.
Well, it happens to all of us, and it happens often. If we took action every time, complaining would become our identity. We have other things to do.
How have our Jewish communities, our camps, our schools, our JCCs, our youth groups, failed our children so badly that they never developed sufficient character or respect for women — not chivalrous, protective respect, but respect for women as equals — not to think that this is acceptable?
Thank you for this essay. It was recommended to me by someone who admires you greatly.
I’d like to thank Cheryl for coming forward. I also what to thank all the people who came forward through their comments to her writing. I also want to thank David Benkof, who while I doubt this was not your intention, demonstrated exactly why this keeps happening in our community. It’s know as known as willful blindness. “willful blindness,” as defined by Margaret Heffernan is an entrepreneur, chief executive and author whose third book, Willful Blindness, was shortlisted for the 2011 Financial Times/Goldman Sachs Best Business Book award (Doubleday Canada). “If there is knowledge that you could have had, should have had but chose not to have, you are still responsible.”
I’ve been thinking about this article a lot, perhaps because we’re in Elul, and while I wholeheartedly support Cheryl’s choice, and won’t be surprised if her position and opinion don’t change, I hope it does. However, I hope it does, not because, by all accounts, she has much to offer, and we as a Jewish community need people like her, although that is true. I hope she reconsider, because, my mother an lay leader and mentor in her own right, Eileen Lieberman, taught me a disability advocate in the Jewish community, that it is unfair to ourselves to say never she says regularly ” never say never.” I personally have faced the effects of sexual abuse within the Jewish community as both a professional and lay leader within the community, so I understand why someone would say they are never coming back, but I ask if by some true self reflection and actions you see from a far that true transformation occurs over time, that you don’t hold the sins of one generation against the next.
This article and the comment are a must-read in Jewish communal professional development programming. Thank you Cheryl for your bravery and voice. I too hope you consider re-engagement – never is a long time to miss your bright mind and Jewish heart in our communal conversations. Thank you commentators for widening the discussion.
And, Cheryl – perhaps with this article a new stage of entrepreneurial leadership as a commentator, author, and educator has begun…