A formerly fearless girl

Girls of the world, I am so sorry I failed you. For more than a year, I stood there to stare down that furious beast. To stare down his testosterone-fueled rage. To stare down Male Power in the heart of the Financial District, occupying a street pretty close to Wall.

Sure, I was cooked up as a corporate marketing stunt for International Women’s Day by a bigmoney, Boston-based investment firm. And sure, I was plopped there in the first place through a weird city permitting back door, and then just kind of got to stay.

But don’t hold any of that against me or my metaphor. I was just a 4-foot tall girl, hands on hips, ponytail blowing a little (not much) in the wind. I meant well. I tried hard.

It wasn’t easy to stand there for nearly 400 days. My legs got more than a little tired. My eyelids too.

I got downright exhausted having to look that mad bovine right in the mug all that time. I get it — it’s angry. It’s virile. It’s charging.

But I did it. I stayed there. I stood there, for all of you. Which is why it hurts so much that I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I was strong as I could be, but the blasted Brahma just wouldn’t blink.

So now, they’re moving me. Not to a cemetery or anything; I didn’t do anything wrong. The new place might even bring more foot traffic.

But the bull, for now, has triumphed. It’s a national #MeToo moment, and that damn misogynist side of beef won.