Last year I read an illuminating book Brit(ish) by Afua Hirsh in which she shared her view on observing Black History Month each October. At school and in the media we profile Black heroes once a year and discuss their lives and experiences. How about we incorporated Black history into British or American history and changed the narrative from the celebration of the British imperial achievements to a more balanced account, including experiences of the natives of former colonies? Perhaps we would learn how that less than straightforward history shaped our society. Instead of condemning advocates of why statues must fall, we might wonder whose names adorn our art institutions, such as Tate.

Tate museums, in case you didn't know, are named after the philanthropist Henry Tate, who made his money via Tate & Lyle, a British sugar refining business, which relied on slave labour (and continued exploitation of Afro-Caribbeans after the slavery had been abolished). I am grateful to Sir Henry for his generosity, but equally I feel it's good to know where the money came from. 

And now, in case I haven't learned the lesson from Black History Month, I get to have first hand experience. March 2021 is now Women's History Month, says the US government. Come to think of it, it's a bit of an upgrade since according to this website, the origins of this "celebration" date back to 1981 when Congress authorised women's history to be celebrated for the whole week before progressing it to a month. We should be joyful!

As a result, I got a handful of emails last week about panels celebrating women's achievements and caught glimpse of media headlines putting spotlight on heroines in all walks of life. Without realising it, I even joined he movement by celebrating 8 March, International Women's Day, with a series of Instagram posts about women who had especially inspired me in the last 12 months. 

But you know what? It was a little hard going with everything that has been on top of the media agenda otherwise. The women making headlines were Nicola Sturgeon, Meghan Markle and now Sarah Everard - all the for the wrong reasons. Commemorating women's history one month a year and patting yourself on the back will not improve visibility of women's achievements or the inequality in our society. Women - half of the world's population - cannot be forgotten for most of the year. Their agenda must be everyone's agenda, otherwise, as Caroline Criado-Perez has described so well in her book, Invisible Women, we'll keep getting smartphones too big for an average woman's hand, drugs which have not been properly tested on women and cars which have not been crash-tested with female body dummies. 

I'm sure Women's History Month and all the associated initiatives have been well intentioned. We'll just have to hope that a dose of empowerment will carry us through the rest of the year.

I'll finish on a lighter note:

- How many feminists does it take to change a lightbulb?- None. It’s not the lightbulb that needs changing.

About a week ago I was having a conversation with someone about a Russian friend of mine - a beautiful woman and a successful entrepreneur who had to kiss a few frogs before she had found her prince. It's not uncommon for intelligent, ambitious women to struggle to find a match: men are said to be intimidated by them. The man I was talking to suggested his own explanation which relates to Russian women in particular. "Russian women", he said, "are guilty of double standards. On the one hand, they want equal rights and opportunities but on the other hand, they expect men to do the DIY and buy them roses." Is that true? Are Russian women and women in general who want to get on in life but choose to look and behave in a traditionally feminine way guilty of having their cake and eating it?  And what should we do to avoid the unhappiness such alleged double standards cause us? 

Fortunately, the answer came to me just a couple of days later. I went to the Harold Pinter Theatre to see Conor McPherson’s new adaptation of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya. The play, written in 1898 and widely performed ever since, goes some way to explain the female psyche we desperately need to change. 

In the play Sonya and her uncle Vanya manage the country estate which supports the urban lifestyle of Sonya's father and his second wife, Yelena, a young and glamorous woman who dazzles everyone during their brief stay in the countryside.  Sonya is bright, hard-working and kind. She is hopelessly in love with the local doctor, Astrov, who is in turn obsessed with Yelena. Sonya is in despair. She thinks she is ugly, certainly in comparison to beautiful Yelena. She sees herself as a pathetic grey mouse doomed to spinsterhood. A modern Instagram influencer would have told Sonya to own her assets: her ability to run the estate and her generous heart. But back in the 19th century Sonya was up against the force no positive mental attitude could have beaten. I'm talking about the patriarchy. 

The patriarchy made sure that women were judged first and foremost by their looks. Astrov the doctor knew very well that Yelena was an idle, empty person. She did no work, she had no hobbies. She constantly complained of boredom yet she thought teaching peasants' children or volunteering at a local hospital would be pointless and beneath her. Her indolence disgusted the doctor but he was in love with her because of her looks. Sonya would feed him, cared for him and listen to his woes but he simply didn't see her as a woman. 

In a patriarchal society there is only one set of values - the one established by men. In Chekhov's play, Sonya had no chance. A woman's worth was set by her beauty and that paradigm has been internalised by Sonya and generations of women after her. A Russian woman does not need to go to the theatre to admire the timelessness of Uncle Vanya. By and large the society and its attitudes towards women haven't changed that much. 

A modern woman might not realise it, but she has been born with misogyny deep inside her DNA. How many times have you seen a woman wearing make-up at a 7am gym class? Last September when I told my father that Bianca Andreescu beat Serena Williams in the US Open Final, his response was: "The Canadian? Not a beauty, that one".  It is common knowledge that female politicians receive a disproportionate coverage of their outfits rather than deeds. The virtue of femininity is not just about the looks. Harvard researchers found in 2010 that voters in the US regarded “power-seeking” women with contempt and anger, but saw power-seeking men as stronger and more competent. No wonder female candidates in the current primaries are having a hard time to convince voters. 

The internalised misogyny is what's driving some women to play damsel in distress or appear less intelligent than they actually are because our society is still stuck in the so called traditional ways of valuing women for their femininity. A woman may well choose to play a role of a DIY ignoramus and to show particular appreciation for flowers just to fit the stereotype. In Britain, a third of women earn more than their male partners, and most of them lie about their salaries no doubt to preserve fragile male egos. 

Dear readers, it is our responsibility to change the norms we inherited from Chekhov's Doctor Astrov and his 19th century pals. When considering female politicians, let's assess their competence not their likability. When complimenting young girls, let's use "strong", "kind" and "smart" at least as often as "pretty".  Let's celebrate women's ability to choose whether to have children, whether to become a stay-at-home mum or return to work after maternity leave and whether to look feminine or androgynous.

​As a Russian, I admire the longevity of Chekhov's plays but as a woman I despair. I honestly wish that one day we'd watch Sonya's anguish and Doctor Astrov's blindness and think "I can't relate to that at all."

This article was first published as an op-ed by the Financial Times on 18 September 2018.

I was recently at a networking event chatting to a man in his thirties I recognised from university. Like me, he invests in start-ups, so we got on well, peppering the conversation with obligatory industry jargon.

“Are you investing based on product-market fit or just MVP (minimum viable product)?” he asked. I explained that we considered all stages, told him about the sectors we liked, and then I detonated what I knew would be the bomb: “We only invest in women, or men from minority backgrounds.”

“So you are a philanthropist?” he offered. “Good for you!”

He had hit on one of the three standard responses from men I get when I mention that I prioritise female entrepreneurs.

First: “So you are a charity?” This view suggests that women need help from altruistic donors to get their businesses going.

Second: “Ah! You are a social impact fund!” This response insinuates that women cannot possibly make you rich, so there needs to be a social mission attached to give an investor something virtuous to talk about at dinner parties.

Third: “Great, but why would you limit yourself?” This may seem like a fair comment, but if you asked me about my deal flow I would tell you that I reviewed more than 100 opportunities in six months and was blown away by the quality of applications.

Then there is the feedback I get most from women: “Fantastic!” Go figure.

I am neither a charity, nor am I particularly driven by a social mission. Like any investor, my business partner, Waheed Alli , and I want to make money. We invest in women and minority men because such opportunities are largely overlooked — and therefore attractive.

The entrepreneurs I meet often thank me for a “refreshing” conversation, which makes me wonder what kind of questions they get asked by other investors. Tania Boler, co-founder of Elvie, which makes pelvic floor trainers, was told her product was too niche to be backed. That is despite the findings she presented showing that one in three women experience pelvic floor problems and one in 10 will require surgery.

Raising money as a woman is hard. I hear stories about investors stringing female founders along for months, dangling offers of funding, and then asking them out on a date instead. Male entrepreneurs are 86 per cent more likely to be venture capital funded and 56 per cent more likely to secure angel investment, according to a 2017 study from the Entrepreneurs Network. As a result, only 9 per cent of global VC funding in the first quarter of this year went to companies with at least one female founder, according to TechCrunch.

This lack of investment is closely correlated with the number of women in decision-making roles in VC. Before we backed Tessa Cook, co-founder of neighbour-to-neighbour surplus food-sharing app Olio, she met with dozens of potential investors. “My conversion rate of female investors was over 75 per cent, whereas male venture capitalists converted at less than 10 per cent,” she said.

Women-run businesses may well be overlooked because of subconscious bias. Investment is all about risk assessment and a male investor will understandably find it easier to relate to a man who went to the same school as him, or has similar interests. A woman pitching a tampon subscription business to a team of men will not enjoy much rapport. Early-stage investing in particular relies less on hard data and more on gut feel.

But there is plenty of evidence to suggest that a mainstream VC investor is missing the trick. First Round Capital published a report finding that the female-founded companies in its portfolio outperformed male-founded companies by 63 per cent, as measured by return to investors over 10 years.

​If venture capitalists want a slice of that pie, they need to hire women investors and give them the power to make investment decisions. After all, why limit yourselves?

Let me assure you - the headline above is not a blunder. I am dead serious. Men do need female role models and here is why.

There is no shortage of men in the public eye. They dominate the media. Turn on the radio or TV, pick up a newspaper or launch a news portal on the internet and there you have it: important men gathered in St. Petersburg in order to decide whether to launch war on Syria. Men like playing war games. Men got together at the Madison Square Garden to watch ice hockey and agree a $130 billion deal. Men like power. Men play football and score goals. Men like scoring points.

Of course, power-hungry, war-playing, point-scoring women do exist but they don't make role models, at least not in my books. The women I find inspiring are different. They are successful yet grounded. They achieve their goals but admit challenges along the way. They are good, really good at what they do but they are humble about it. They make the most of what they have. They care.

In June I interviewed an Olympic gold medal winner Katherine Grainger about her rowing career. She talked about her triumph at London 2012, but she was also admirably open about her disappointment at coming second at the previous Olympic Games in Beijing. She talked about feeling devastated for months, before deciding to start training again. She also talked about appreciating the Beijing experience for what it taught her and how it prepared her for the next four years of training. Such sincerity is rare but it's very powerful in how it makes you feel differently about your own lows.
Last October I spoke to Marianne Elliott, a much accoladed theatre director, in front of a live audience of about 70 women at a Ladies Who Impress event. She talked about feeling nervous before every single premiere, no matter how flawless the rehearsals. Elliott even said that she never quite believed she could pull it all off before a play finally came together on stage. She admitted that her male colleagues at the National were usually a lot more confident and self-assured. I am not surprised. But surely it is OK to feel nervous, to be so invested in a project that its success is personal and affects your every fibre?

In February this year I asked Anna Hansen, the patron chef of The Modern Pantry, about her plans for the future. On the one hand, she felt pretty settled running one successful restaurant and having published The Modern Pantry Cookbook to critical acclaim. On the other hand, she wanted to consider opening another restaurant in order to give an opportunity to her brilliant, loyal, hard-working team to make their own money and build status among London's restaurateurs. I would say that such business and team ethics is an example to follow.

Inspiring female role models are not just successful in what they do, they are also compassionate, down-to-earth, honest about their vulnerabilities and kind. It is time for men to start paying attention.

You’ve heard the quote, I am sure. You can probably relate to “love like you’ve never been hurt” or (after a cocktail or two) “dance like nobody’s watching” but when it comes to work, let’s face it, working for free isn’t realistic, is it? 

Fair enough, but what if you aren’t so crazy about your current job and what if you’re secretly dreaming of a career change, except for you aren’t really sure of your true calling and are way too sensible to quit a well-paid job without a “plan”? 

One way to discover your passion and talents is to do something “for love” rather than for money. Let me explain. A year ago I put together a charity fundraising project Ladies Who Impress, a one-off event during which I interviewed three female role models in order to inspire women to be more confident about their abilities and make the most of their talents. I had no agenda other than to raise money for the charity I was supporting but in the process I’ve discovered my passion for broadcasting and many talents I hadn’t previously been aware of. Ladies Who Impress is now a growing forum celebrating and inspiring women, hosting regular events. This “hobby” project opened a world of opportunities for me and changed my life. 

So let’s say you like baking. Why don’t you volunteer to make a tray of cupcakes for your friend’s birthday party or your office off-site event? You may discover that you really are quite good at it and would like to try out regular Sunday baking for a local farmers’ market. You may also discover that regular large volume baking isn’t your thing at all, but at least you’ve tried and learned something valuable in the process. 

Are you a wine connoisseur? Do friends always ask you for advice? Ever thought of hosting a wine-tasting evening or starting a blog writing up your personal notes on some interesting wines? 

You see, if you do something for love, you might not make quick money, but you may discover your passion. And that is worth all the money in the world. 

Any “projects for love” ideas? Jot them down.