I try to keep my electronic desktop clear, but I keep a space for an image of Fearless Girl, the now iconic New York City sculpture by Kristen Visbal. Now and then I open up the photo to take another look at her. She never ceases to stir the fire in my core, particularly from this angle. I admire her staunch posture from behind, hands on hips, unflinching, except for the defiantly feminine fluttering of her skirt. The slightly blurred form of the bull feels powerful but almost uncertain, confronted by this child’s unwavering stance.
Apparently the artist who made the Charging Bull statue objected to the positioning of Fearless Girl. “My bull is a symbol for America,” the artist was quoted in 2017. Instead of symbolizing prosperity and strength, he argued, in the face of Fearless Girl the bull looks “menacing and aggressive.” Well, yes. Isn’t that interesting.
In the face of all things menacing and aggressive, I imagine the women in my life rising with me – grandmothers, Mom, sisters, daughters, and a tiny granddaughter-to-be, poised to meet the world. I come from a long line of fearless girls, and I will proudly bear witness to the line that continues behind me.
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 55: 203 words, TOTAL = 8461; 51,539 remaining
Robin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families.