My inquiry into equality dates back a long time—back when I envied my male friends because they got to do the fun stuff. I was taught to be gentle; they were taught to be strong. My perspective evolved significantly when I spent two years in France and when I watched my sister fight for female representation in the tech world. What once seemed impossible suddenly became possible—but only after dismantling some deeply ingrained elements of the status quo within my own mental framework. Then, I tried to apply this perspective to my own field. And I discovered that this is, first and foremost, individual work—but that leadership in this area also requires time, collective effort, and a choral approach.
Let’s start with a fact: since I began working, I have rarely sat at a table without being the only woman. And the higher up I went, the more frequent this became. When I entered the venture capital world—an industry I expected to be innovative—I found the same old dynamics. This resistance toward female presence, to me, reflects something much more structural.
Some friends tell me, “Don’t be a feminist,” or “Just be good at what you do—that’s enough.” Others, when I talk about this too much, say, “You’ve lost my attention now,” as if my goal were to entertain them. If only it were that simple… But I’ve always been attentive to these reactions because I see them as symptoms of something deeper.
In my own small way, I’ve always made a point of addressing the elephant in the room, because I believe awareness starts there. Even now, when I find myself in all-male meetings or see pitch decks filled exclusively with male faces, I point it out. It may seem insignificant, but to me, it’s not. In fact, it’s one of the few things we can and must do—finding the balance between provocation and dialogue.
My issue isn’t with the tip of the iceberg—after all, there are successful women in every field. My issue is with the iceberg itself. And that’s where inclusion comes in.
Beyond Awareness: Actionable Solutions
One possible solution is to foster an alliance between men and women and to support those who, in their own way, are making this happen—often with great effort, starting from themselves. That’s why I get frustrated when I see an all-male slide deck. I know that dialogue sometimes happens through healthy conflict, but perhaps this issue would be easier to tackle if more men embraced it—not just as allies but as active participants in shaping an inclusive environment.
I often ask my male colleagues in venture capital—the ones who have swapped their suits for t-shirts—“Are you actively working to include and understand the needs of women in this space?” To me, this is a crucial question, both individually and systemically. Because without this awareness, even if we had all the female entrepreneurship grants in the world, gender integration would still be an uphill battle.
The second approach is to rethink the concept of space and access. That’s why, after calling out all-male panels and presentations, I carefully choose where to invest my time. I recognize that I, too, have agency, and I can choose to go where there’s more space for me, where my impact can be greater. When faced with different job opportunities, I always choose the one where I am given more room to grow. Isn’t that what everyone does? In the U.S., they say “vote with your money.” Here, I’d say, “vote with your time.” And time is a finite resource—even more so for women, given the still unequal burden of domestic and family labor.
The Real Question: Can We Accept Vulnerability?
At the end of the day, this is a long game. It requires us to rethink structures that have shaped our society for centuries. Simone de Beauvoir once wrote, “No one is more hostile to women than a man anxious about his masculinity,” because masculinity is “a fragile social construct.” Perhaps no one is more hostile to men than a woman who cannot come to terms with the perceived impossibility of changing these ingrained biases.
And that’s my only real fear: not becoming difficult—I’m already excellent at that! But rather, that we will fail to understand each other’s differences, that we will refuse to embrace change, or worse, that we will fail to even recognize it when it happens.
If I get angry, it’s only when I don’t see enough space for dialogue.
So the real question is: Can we learn to accept male vulnerability as much as we do female vulnerability—and vice versa?
I believe that keeping an open posture, expressing doubts and asking questions, rather than imposing rigid answers, is a stance worth considering. My mother always told me, “You do what you can.” But now, having crossed the huge milestone of turning 30 (which once seemed as daunting as the social elephant I just described), I’d rephrase it:
You do everything you can, in line with what you believe in.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s where real change begins.
