Rosie O'Donnell broke her relative quiet this week to declare herself "heartbroken" over the sexual misconduct allegations that ended Eric Swalwell's political career, and to announce, with characteristic subtlety, that "men suck."
The former talk show host, who fled the United States after President Donald Trump won the 2024 election and now lives in Ireland, posted a TikTok video Tuesday reacting to the cascade of accusations against the former Democratic congressman from California. In the video, Fox News Digital reported, O'Donnell said she had donated to Swalwell, spoken with him by phone, and championed him publicly, only to watch it all collapse under the weight of allegations that include drugging and raping one woman and sexually assaulting a staffer.
Swalwell, who had been one of the leading contenders in California's 2026 gubernatorial race, announced Sunday that he was suspending his campaign. Two days later, on Monday, he resigned from Congress entirely. The accusations have spurred at least two local criminal investigations, and the Washington Examiner reported that a Department of Justice investigation is also underway. Swalwell has denied all the allegations but admitted to making mistakes.
O'Donnell's TikTok opened with a pointed request to her audience:
"Now can we talk a little bit about Eric Swalwell? I know that guy. In the 'What kind of way?' Like, spoke to him on the phone a couple times, donated money to him, I believe. Talked about him in some public appearances years ago about how I believed in him, and his cute little family and two kids, and standing up to all those people when he, you know, berates them for their moralist behavior."
That last phrase is worth pausing over. O'Donnell praised Swalwell specifically for berating others over their "moralist behavior", a posture that looks rather different now that the congressman stands accused of conduct far worse than anything he ever lectured about.
She went on to describe the emotional toll the news took on her, and drew a direct line to another prominent Democrat whose personal conduct became a national scandal. O'Donnell said in the video:
"And then all this comes out about him, and it's heartbreaking to me. You know? And I wrote him. I wrote him a little message and I said, 'You know, Bill Clinton broke my heart, and now you did too.' You know the conclusion I've come to? Men suck."
The Bill Clinton comparison is O'Donnell's own. She volunteered it freely, placing Swalwell in the company of a president whose personal scandals defined an era. Clinton's office did not immediately return Fox News Digital's request for comment.
There is a familiar rhythm here for anyone who has watched progressive celebrities navigate the misconduct of their political allies. The shock is always total. The betrayal is always personal. And the broader question, whether the institutions and networks around these men failed to act on warning signs, rarely gets asked by the people expressing the loudest grief.
O'Donnell's lament continued with a broader philosophical turn. She told her TikTok followers:
"And boy, that Eric Swalwell. You know, teaches you not to believe in anyone. For me, that's what it does for me. I don't believe in anyone. People have images and they sell themselves as one thing, but they're not that thing. They have complications like all humans do, right? They have addictions, they have impulses, they have frontal lobe disorder, they have narcissism, they have a spoiled privileged upbringing that warps their perspective."
That catalog of excuses, addictions, impulses, "frontal lobe disorder," narcissism, is telling. Even in the act of expressing disillusionment, the instinct is to explain away rather than to hold accountable. The allegations against Swalwell are not about impulse control or a "warped perspective." They involve accusations from multiple women and active criminal investigations.
Swalwell's representative did not immediately return Fox News Digital's request for comment on O'Donnell's remarks.
The Swalwell reaction also marks O'Donnell's latest public reappearance after she left the country following the 2024 election. She moved to Ireland and had largely stepped back from the kind of daily political commentary that once defined her public life.
In mid-February, O'Donnell revealed during an interview on SiriusXM's "Cuomo Mornings" with Chris Cuomo that she had secretly returned to the United States for two weeks. She slipped back into the country without telling anyone, she said, to test the waters.
O'Donnell told Cuomo:
"I was recently home for two weeks, and I did not really tell anyone. I just went to see my family. I wanted to see how hard it would be for me to get in and out of the country. I wanted to feel what it felt like. I wanted to hold my children again. And I hadn't been home in over a year."
She added that she "wanted to make sure that it was safe" for her and her daughter to come back over the summer. The notion that a wealthy American celebrity would need to conduct a covert reconnaissance mission to determine whether the United States is "safe" speaks for itself.
O'Donnell's history of charged political commentary is well documented. She has remained a fixture in progressive media circles even from abroad, including a notable appearance on Jim Acosta's show that drew attention for its intensity.
The speed of Swalwell's fall is worth noting. On Sunday he was a leading candidate for governor of California. By Monday he had resigned from Congress. The allegations against him are severe, drugging and raping a woman, sexually assaulting a staffer, and the fact that multiple criminal investigations are now active suggests that law enforcement is treating them with corresponding seriousness.
Swalwell denied all the allegations but acknowledged making mistakes, a formulation that has become almost boilerplate in these situations. The gap between a flat denial and an admission of unspecified "mistakes" is a space where accountability often goes to disappear.
Meanwhile, other observers have raised questions about Swalwell's conduct in professional settings. Reports surfaced of the congressman being "overserved" at a Washington event, adding another dimension to the portrait of a lawmaker whose behavior apparently raised red flags well before the misconduct allegations became public.
Separate from the sexual misconduct scandal, Swalwell has also faced scrutiny over a DHS investigation into allegations he illegally hired a Brazilian nanny, yet another thread in a rapidly unraveling political career.
O'Donnell's conclusion, "men suck", is the kind of sweeping, unserious generalization that substitutes for the harder conversation. The real question is not about men as a category. It is about a political culture that elevates people based on their ability to perform righteousness on camera, and then acts shocked when the performance turns out to be hollow.
Swalwell built a brand on moral indignation. He lectured colleagues. He postured for the cameras. O'Donnell loved him for it. She donated. She promoted him. She believed in "his cute little family and two kids."
Now she says she doesn't "believe in anyone." But the pattern she describes, backing someone because they said the right things, then feeling betrayed when their conduct didn't match, is not a mystery of human nature. It is the predictable result of valuing performance over substance, slogans over character, and partisan loyalty over honest scrutiny.
O'Donnell compared Swalwell to Bill Clinton. She meant it as a confession of heartbreak. But the comparison lands differently than she intended. Both men were protected by a political ecosystem that looked the other way for as long as it was convenient. And both times, the people who championed them the loudest were the last to ask hard questions.
That's not a story about men. That's a story about accountability, and who gets exempted from it, and for how long, when they carry the right party card.
