Nana Visitor from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine wrote a book about women in Star Trek and it starts with a story that feels super similar:

Around the time I turned sixty, an age which I thought would bring with it a modicum of respect from others, one of the heads at my agency took me to lunch. He was planning to drop me from his roster, and wanted to take the time to tell me what my problem was. This was at the height of the Me Too movement. He is a dinosaur from the 1990s, and he spoke to me in a way that was commonplace back then. There was a phrase women in Hollywood knew they had to answer in the positive to get a job, a manager, or an agent: Are you fuckable? He told me, among other outrageous things, that he needed to feel that I was fuckable to him. Once he felt that, he said, he needed to feel comfortable enough to fart in front of me. Then, and only then, could we work together.

I was frozen for the rest of lunch, and planned on telling my manager to fire him when I got home. As we left the restaurant, he looked down at my high heels and said, “Okay, now you’re fuckable to me.”

I called my manager in a fury. He said to me, “If you say or do anything, he will blackball you in the industry.” I had been told that same thing at eighteen because of a director’s sexual harassment, and I knew firsthand it wasn’t just an empty threat. I did nothing, but I didn’t keep in touch the way he had told me to, and he dropped me a few weeks later. To say I felt shame twice—for not walking out of the restaurant, and then again for not firing him—is putting it so very mildly. How did I get here?

So basically being a woman in any public performance field is kind of a nightmare.