I finally understand why the world of venture capital both attracts and repels me at the same time.
I was at a beautiful event, surrounded—roughly speaking—by 85% men, when I decided to approach a well-respected figure in the field and point out how unacceptable it was that his organization had so little gender diversity. His response was predictable: It’s a complex issue. We’ve tried. My team is actually gender-balanced, but unfortunately, there just aren’t many women in this sector!
I don’t know why, but he then asked me what I did for a living. Was he looking for another woman to add to his numbers? My friends would call this a typical Silvia moment.
Among the audience was my friend F., the same person who, just a week earlier, had taken me to a women-only event. The atmosphere there was entirely different, yet still heavy, like the storm clouds hanging over these rainy days—charged, ominous, but far from serene.
- has this perpetually alert look, one I know all too well because I carried it for years myself. The problem with being a woman in predominantly male environments is that you either align yourself with those who hold power—the men—or you disappear. Without realizing it, you grow accustomed to being constantly surrounded by men, always questioning whether you are being treated as an equal or as some kind of trophy—the competent one (which is just another version of the attractive one).
- is the competent one. In fact, she’s the most competent of all. But I’m increasingly convinced that all this competence, if it only serves others, is worth very little if it weighs on our emotional state.
Being good at what we do is not enough. We also need power—and F. has finally reached that level. I’m proud of her. Maybe, in time, she will even be able to let go of that anxious expression. I hope so. But what does she still need to do so?
The problem of women in leadership in Italy—a country suffocated by paternalism, which rears its head in the most unexpected places—is the lack of breathing space it creates. The issue isn’t just about F.; it’s about all of us.
The opposite of F.’s gaze is the quiet resignation of another friend, D., who seems to have accepted her position—whether with contentment or submission, I’m not yet sure. She sits on her perch, silent. In both cases, I sense the same posture: waiting.
A Shift in Perspective
What reassures me is recalling a dinner party at the home of my Parisian friend Anne, celebrating her partner Clément’s birthday. She had prepared small tartines, and beside me sat a Frenchman telling an amusing story about how, in the Seine, they don’t fish for fish, but for bicycles—and all the other objects resting on the riverbed, retrieved with large magnets.
At the end of his story, he turned to me and asked about Italy. My answer was the same as always: Italy is a difficult place for women.
Without hesitation, and like many French people I’ve spoken to, he understood immediately. Le machisme est très grave en Italie, he said.
So, everyone knows it. Everyone, that is, except Italians.
And I keep counting the days until I set foot again in a place where people grasp these things without too much effort. That day will come when I land at Charles de Gaulle next month.
Fishing for Change
In the meantime, I continue to fish with my magnet, pulling from the depths everything that has been left to sink in the riverbed. I lay out my discoveries before my neighbors—a bicycle, to escape faster from those trying to box me into a frame that doesn’t fit me; a giant pair of scissors, to cut through prejudice; a pair of glasses, to widen perspectives on social dynamics.
Nothing extraordinary, really. But who knows what else might be down there? Maybe even a monster?
I’ve come to believe that freedom is the only real achievement we should strive for, even when society tells us that being good at what we do is what truly matters.
Frankly, I’m tired of it. Because being good will never be enough.
What we really need is the look of recognition from a friend, or even a stranger, who understands just how hard it is. Maybe what we need is a French perspective.
And if I have to keep fishing for a while longer, so be it. I will be patient. I will hold on to a little hope.
Maybe, one day, something unexpected will emerge from the depths of Italian culture—something strange and amusing, like the creatures in Monsters, Inc..
Looking Toward the Future
One last thought for what lies at the bottom of the Seine, which, incidentally, may soon become swimmable thanks to a €1.4 billion cleanup project.
So, see you in the water by 2024, hopefully in a world where equity feels more natural, more obvious.
And who knows? Maybe we’ll even look back and miss these days, when we were still fighting, still resisting. Because these, too, are moments of great energy and alliance—at least between me, D., and F.
