What the ‘Fearless Girl’ stands for, I don’t know, but it isn’t bravery

If I hadn’t hesitated at a crucial moment, this column might be illustrated, today, by a photograph of me with the Fearless Girl statue.

Quite by accident, I found myself in the company of the statue for about thirty seconds last week. Someone suggested I might like to have my photograph taken with her. “Why?” I asked, playing for time. Because I was a fearless woman, came the flattering answer. And for the symbolism, came the enigmatic postscript. “Nah,” I said. “Thanks, but no thanks. You’re grand.” Not only am I not fearless, I am fearful most of the time.