The saga of the Charging Bull and the Fearless Girl is back in the news. It seems New York sculptor Alex Gardega objected to feminists’ appropriating the Wall Street icon. So he added something: a pug, relieving itself on the girl.

I couldn’t put my finger on it. But something about the Fearless Girl statue didn’t sit well with me. Social media fawned over the diminutive addition that bravely stood in front of Charging Bull in New York’s financial district. But the statue seemed like a cheap way to score political points. My cynicism grew the more I considered her underlying message.

The plaque at Fearless Girl’s feet reads: “Know the power of women in leadership. SHE makes a difference.” “SHE” is both a descriptive pronoun and the NASDAQ ticker symbol for the organization that funded her. Fearless Girl’s message is to promote workplace gender diversity. And to encourage companies to recruit women to their boards. Those pleasant enough politically correct platitudes.

The artist of the Charging Bull has himself complained that Fearless Girl distorted the meaning of his bronze. It transformed the bull from a symbol of strength and prosperity into one of a villain. In response, New York City Mayor de Blasio tweeted, “Men who don’t like women taking up space are exactly why we need the Fearless Girl.”

But there is more to the story than just political posturing and man-shaming. Mayor de Blasio has already made it clear that the statues’ meanings are fluid. So let’s consider what happens when we move these two statues somewhere else in the world. How does changing the context change their meaning?

Move Those Statues to Africa

If Charging Bull and Fearless Girl were on the African continent, people might think they are a Public Service Announcement. “Caution: Wild Bulls.” Locals seeing a little girl in the path of a raging bull might not find it so — well, inspiring. In fact, they would see it as quite the contrary. Any child left alone in such circumstances is a tribal (or village) failure. They know the inevitable outcome.

And what if the bronzes were moved to India or Nepal? There Hinduism is practiced, and all things bovine — including their dung and urine — are revered. Honoring cows is so weighty that U.S. diplomats are warned that if while driving they are faced with the choice of hitting a person or a cow, the better thing to do is hit the person. Perhaps again Fearless Girl might not inspire the same sort of “You go, girl!” spirit. Suddenly, Fearless Girl is no longer a heroine, but merely a bystander while the bull holds center stage.

Of course, worshiping bulls is nothing new. It never leads to anything good. Just ask the ancient Greek queen of Crete, Pasiphae, how worshiping the white bull worked for her. Their coupling created the monstrous Minotaur: the bull-headed man who devoured Athenian. Nor did the Israelites profit from worship of their golden calf. It nearly got them wiped out as a nation.

Abortion was sold as “safe, legal and rare.” But that golden calf has grown up into something fierce and terrifying.

We have our own sacred cow. The West thinks that equality between men and women can only be reached by erasing their differences. Such “equality” rests squarely on the notion that women must be free from the burden of childbearing and therefore must have abortion on demand — no restrictions.

Worshiping the Golden Calf of Abortion

Abortion was sold as “safe, legal and rare.” But that golden calf has grown up into something fierce and terrifying. Today, worship of the bull of abortion is a rite of passage for any woman who craves power, prestige or fortune. Nearly every public woman in the corridors of influence from New York to Washington to Hollywood has offered her pinch of incense to the abortion behemoth — Planned Parenthood.

So what if we moved Fearless Girl and Charging Bull back to New York, but consider yet another meaning for each? What if we see Charging Bull as the abortion juggernaut, and Fearless Girl as all those who worship him?

This new, fierce and ferocious bull devours the innocent like the Minotaur. Instead of 15 males and 15 females a year, the numbers are closer to 1500 males a day and 1500 females a day in the United States alone.

Like the golden calf worshipers of old, the new bovine worshipers are not left unscathed. Tragically, all these women who worship abortion have been frozen as little girls — as if in bronze — never to grow up and become true women, but to forever remain stuck in a feminist frenzy: a vicious cycle of victimization, foot stomping tantrums, illogic, perpetual aping of men, and vulgar pink hats.

Sadly, unlike Africa, there are no more grown-ups in the village to come and protect them, for these little girls are the grown-ups; they are the cultural elite; they are culture makers. And yet little girls they remain — fearless and foolish — and try as they might, unless or until they find healing, there they will remain stuck in the path of the charging bull of their own making.