In a series of now-deleted posts on X, independent film journalist Jeff Sneider expressed frustration about being “ghosted” by the publicity team of “Obsession” breakout star Inde Navarrette. “I plan to write about Inde Navarrette for a long time,” Sneider wrote. “I can be a useful friend to her team . . . or I can share literally everything I hear about her. The best part is, THEY get to decide. I can forgive being ghosted this summer. I won’t forget, but I can forgive . . .  just not twice.”

Support for the actress was swift online, with many calling out Sneider for, as they saw it, “threatening” the actress for not giving him her time. The public scrutiny became so intense that Sneider posted an apology tweet, writing, “I am sorry to Ms. Navarrette, who was and will continue to be treated fairly, despite previous comments suggesting otherwise.”

This individual moment is a curiously nasty one, for sure. But it also offers a chance to revisit the long tradition of male entertainment journalists, pundits and hosts who believe they’re owed acknowledgment from Hollywood actresses — and use their pens (or platforms) to fight perceived slights.

Historically, an actress who doesn’t willingly give of their time, or refuses to play the Hollywood game of being sweet and polite, is labeled “difficult,” a “diva,” or some other term that denotes that their personality is unlikable. More often than not, we see this with actresses in Hollywood pushing against demanding directors or seeking out more challenging material. Marilyn Monroe is an example of both.

But when it comes to Hollywood press, comments made by journalists towards actresses can be held up alongside their writing about a comparable male actor — with a date on it, and fact-checked quotes to further lock in the moment and manner the misogyny leaked out for all to see.

Take Ginger Rogers, one-half of the iconic dancing duo composed of her and Fred Astaire. Entertainment critic Bosley Crowther regularly praised Astaire in his reviews, calling him “dazzling.” Even when the material was weak, Crowther routinely praised the actor for rising above poor screenwriting. (Read his reviews for 1940’s “Second Chorus” and 1951’s “Royal Wedding.”) Yet when Rogers appeared in 1954’s “Black Widow,” Crowther called her “shrill and shoddy” and said that “It is asking a lot of an audience to believe that [Rogers] could display anything but clothes.”

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Rogers was 43 when she starred in “Black Widow,” and Hollywood’s male critics are nothing if not consistent in their emphasis on the looks of women whom they see as owing them more to look at. Longtime critic Rex Reed spent the majority of his review of the 2013 movie “Identity Thief” commenting on actress Melissa McCarthy‘s weight, calling her “tractor-sized,” a “humongous creep” and a “hippo.” Theater critic John Simon, known as the “Beast of Broadway,” called Barbra Streisand “pronouncedly ugly” and commented that her success “hinges on the number of homely women who can identify themselves with her” while reviewing her in 1969’s “Hello, Dolly.” And in 2007, emails leaked from critic Jeff Wells to director James Mangold allegedly asking for nude photos of actress Vinessa Shaw, who was appearing in Mangold’s feature “3:10 to Yuma.” (And this is to say nothing of the various entertainment hosts like Howard Stern, David Letterman and Johnny Carson, whose clips of interviewing women back in the day are a lesson in cringe.)

Feuds between male journalists and actresses go back years and years. In 1951, columnist Walter Winchell engaged in a public feud with world-famous entertainer and civil rights activist Josephine Baker, who was refused service at the legendary Stork Club in New York City. Baker claimed Winchell was sitting at a nearby table and refused to come to her aid, causing a flurry of support for her cause. Winchell tried hard to pass the buck, writing, “I am appalled at the agony and embarrassment caused [to] Josephine Baker and her friends at the Stork Club. But I am equally appalled at their efforts to involve me in an incident in which I had no part.” But when the fervor didn’t die down, Winchell started to write pieces about Baker being “pro-fascist, a troublemaker and a Communist-guided provocateuse.” 

If you think male critics and pundits are kinder to an actress once she’s dead, think again. Marilyn Monroe was boiled down to being nothing but a drug addict and a tramp in the immediate aftermath of her death.

And when actress Lupe Velez committed suicide in 1944, writer Kenneth Anger included her in his book “Hollywood Babylon,” referring to her as “the gyrating, cu*t flashing Hollywood party girl.” Anger also popularized the false rumor that Velez actually drowned in her toilet bowl after failing to vomit up the pills she’d taken. It’s a rumor that’s plagued Velez’s legacy for decades. No surprise, be it Josephine Baker, Lupe Velez, or Inde Navarrette (who is Latina), women of color often get it worse, but no actress gets out unscathed.

Whether it’s Jeff Sneider, Walter Winchell or Rex Reed, public pressure remains one of the few ways to hold male critics to account, but there’s no doubt we’ll be talking about these issues again fairly soon.