So this answer may come across as tremendously sexist. It's actually just a philosophy work-in-progress that I'm playing with, but it could be sufficiently applicable to your problem to help.
Consider any task at hand. Go ahead and name it. Perhaps the task is as simple as lifting a heavy box to move it to the bedroom. Excellent. We've named the task. We can even make metrics to measure how well it was done, say "time taken from start of task until box is at a specified location in the bedroom." Perfect.
Now what else?
The box is not isolated. It's in a huge world with all sorts of interconnections. You can move the box very successfully, throw your back out, and ruin yourself for the larger task, perhaps "moving into a new house." Likewise, you can cajole 3 of your friends to come help move the box, and, in fact, successfully move the box without ever actually lifting a finger. They can move it for you. Which is the right approach?
One solution is to define the larger problem of "move into the new house." However, we start to run into a problem. Defining these large problems often involves unknowns. As we find out in many large contract tasks, the world doesn't always agree. If you write down the task as "move the bed to the south side of the room," and find out halfway through the process that there's not enough linear space for the bed to fit, your entire plan is suspect and has to be re-jiggered. Accordingly, we leave some of the details out of the plan... we want just enough plan to make sure it gets accomplished, but not so much plan that it gets in the way. But how do we do that? That sounds like a really tough balance to get right (and it is... it's called life!)
I would argue one solution we have come up with is to break up every task into two sets of side effects: the intended effect and the residual effect. The intended effect is the narrow goal, such as "move this box to the bedroom." The residual effect is everything that got influenced in a way that wasn't captured by the narrow goal, such as "Steve threw his back out, so he can't help move the fridge." This seems like a reasonable tautology: we can always divide "everything" into "something" and "everything that wasn't part of something."
I believe this provides an excellent place to poke and prod at the concepts of masculine and feminine. Mind you these are the genders, not the sexes. As we have seen in countless examples, a female can be very masculine, and a male can be very feminine, but as a general rule there's a good correlation between sex and gender. Masculine and feminine deal more with how we approach the world, and less with what is or is not dangling between our legs. It's also not a binary thing. One can be masculine in many ways, and then have a "feminine side" which can show through.
I would posit that the division of tasks into an intended effect and a residual effect captures this gender difference very well. The masculine side is taught, from a very young age, how to identify a task, name it, bound it, and then accomplish it. If someone forgot to include "keep your back operational" in the box moving task, it was unimportant and may be sacrificed for the cause. The feminine side is taught something quite a lot harder to pin down in words. That side is taught how to pay attention to the residuals, making sure you don't win the battle but lose the war. Someone who is balanced with more feminine traits will not lift as heavy of boxes, but when they do lift them, it will come with a grace that not only protects their body but inspires the nearby workers by showing just how beautifully one can accomplish the goal. And of course, by these particular lines I've drawn, it's the feminine side that shifts the bookcase a few feet to the right long before the masculine side hauls the bed into the bedroom and realizes that, because the bookcase is no longer interfering, there is now space to put the bed on the south side of the bedroom ("How did she do that? She didn't even measure the room. She just... knew?")
So, you are free to take this argument or leave it. It would be fair to say that I am piling on a very hard-edged line over the top of a beautifully fluid concept of gender underneath. However, if it feels like this has a grain of truth to it, it lets us explore the genders in your game with a mindset that doesn't necessarily have to start with "gender X seems weaker than gender Y." For one thing, it points out a meaningful way to talk about a single individual having both masculine and feminine sides. Indeed I do believe it is impossible to have just one. A pure masculine character burns himself out because he has no words to describe "himself" in a task, so he eventually just consumes himself in an attempt to accomplish his goals (crazy mad scientists sometimes err down this path). A pure feminine character simply can't do anything she wants to do. She can make the world a brighter place, but she has to convince everyone to do everything for her (the prisoner-princess is a classic image of this). If you look at the realistic hyper-feminine characters in non-fiction, they are always tremendously feminine, until you get to see them when they drop their guard, and they have a terribly hard "grit" in the center of them which fuels everything they do. Likewise, if you look at the realistic hyper-masculine characters, they always have some goal which cannot be put down in formal wordings. It's always an elusive flitting idea that drives them forward.
So, drawing this towards your game, if you want the feminine characters to have lower stats, that is not unreasonable. The tradeoff would need to be that, when the feminine characters use those stats, the result has a stronger tendency to simply "do what they actually wanted," rather than merely doing what they did. Just to brainstorm a concept, perhaps the more feminine abilities have a tendency to have an "unexplained" effect of making things easier... perhaps by revealing a weakness you might not have detected otherwise. Due to the way one moves in a masculine or feminine way, the feminine activities are better for observing the opponent while acting.
Another approach might be to take advantage of the fact that, the more feminine a character is, the more they can account for the health and well-being of their own body. If you've ever seen a mother move around, it's extraordinary. Mind you what they do is, objectively, nothing quite as obviously impressive as her husband's work in construction. But the husband has to come home and rest. He depletes himself every day, every week, and if not given a chance to rest, will soon consume himself. The mothers... my god... they run 24/7 for literally years on end without a break. It's awe-inspiring, once you look at it right.
How do women do this? They have a ruthless efficiency that the masculine side simply cannot comprehend. While many female characters appear weak on the outside, watch them for long enough, and it becomes apparent that they are simply acting with tremendous efficiency. Consider the archetype of the queen who appears weaker than the king, but any in-depth study will note that, when all the cards are on the table, she gets her way far more often than the king does. These women are just as tough as the men (one might even argue tougher), they are just approaching the problem efficiently.