I often write about pretty serious stuff on this much-neglected blog, but today I am going to tackle a decidedly unimportant topic: being tall.
I was chatting with a somewhat vertically-challenged friend of mine some time ago when she commented, suddenly and seemingly apropos of nothing, "It must be nice being tall." It took me a moment to understand what had prompted her comment. We were walking through a grocery store and I was getting something off a shelf, a shelf I realized she would not have been able to reach herself. I was doing something she would have needed to ask help with...probably from a passing Friendly Neighborhood Tall Person like me.
It got me to thinking about being tall. It's not something I usually think about, any more than I would expend much mental energy thinking about, say, having dimples, hazel eyes, or Greek toes. It's just a feature of my physical existence. But her question sent me down the rabbit hole. Is being tall very different? Is it better? Are there disadvantages?
I started by asking that same friend how she saw the differences between navigating life at 4'11" (150 cm) versus at 6'2" (188 cm). Aside from the obvious things, such as managing shelves, I was surprised to hear her say that she envied how people just seem to make room for tall people versus short people. "When we're out in public together, you just stroll through the world without a care, and everyone is practically diving out of your way. I have to dart and dive my way through crowded places, and nobody moves for me." I am sure she was exaggerating a bit here to make her point, but it made me laugh out loud, this image of myself obliviously coddiwompling my way through the world as people desperately leap out of my path.
It may surprise shorter people to hear this, but I do not usually even feel aware of my height. After all, while 6'2" is tall, it is hardly freakishly tall. I don't really feel tall. I feel like a pretty average human being, physically speaking. Until, that is, I experience The Moment. The Moment is what I call that occasional experience when I am out in public and I see someone from across a room who does indeed look freakishly tall to me, only to find as I approach him or her that we are in fact the same size, or s/he is even shorter than I am. It's rather unsettling, because I suddenly feel extremely self-conscious about my height. I think to myself, "Is that what I look like to everyone? This hulking, lumbering bipedal tower of awkwardness? A Lurch?!" Fortunately, being taller than 99% of my fellow humans means I do not have to experience The Moment all that often.
One of the most challenging parts about being tall is, happily, something that goes away after childhood; but it does make that period of life difficult at times, as I am witnessing second-hand now with my own young children, both of whom are quite tall for their ages (98th percentile in height for their gender). One might think it is nothing but wonderful to be taller than all one's peers, but it comes with problems. Believe it or not, these problems are created almost entirely by the adults in their lives. The fact is that no matter how many times you remind people they're dealing with a four-year-old boy, they simply can't help judging the child by the standards their eyes are telling them they should be applying. When your four-year-old looks like a six- or seven-year-old, people treat him as such, and expect his behavior to reflect that perceived age. It's doubly problematic if you have a child who is also quite articulate and intelligent for his age. When my middle son was that age, for example, we constantly had issues with teachers and caregivers applying an impossible standard to him, because he was the size of a first-grader and had the vocabulary of a fifth-grader. But despite what their eyes and ears were telling them, they were still dealing with a normal four-year-old boy, one who was no more mature than his peers (and acted accordingly). It got to the point where we would write notes to, say, camp counselors, just to remind them. One summer, we were fortunate to get a camp counselor who was extremely sympathetic: she was over six feet (183 cm) herself, and immediately related to our concerns based on her own experiences growing up.
I remember practical issues from my own childhood, too. One summer, when I was 12, my local amusement park ran a promotion where they were giving kids a discount based on their size, up to age 12. The taller you were, the bigger the discount. (As an aside, can you imagine such a promotion these days?! I am a little horrified they thought this was a good idea. But this was 1983. A different time.) My mother sent me with my birth certificate, because she knew they were never going to believe I was 12. She was right. Even with the birth certificate in hand, I sensed they thought I was getting away with something.
As an adult, I continue to reap unfair benefits from being tall, benefits that far outweigh discounted roller coaster rides. Sadly, society prefers its men, and especially its leaders, to be taller, and judges them accordingly. It's an absurd notion, given what really counts in modern civilization, but of course that is just another example of how our physical and psychological evolution has yet to catch up with even the idea of civilization. During the 99.9% of our evolution, being taller/bigger had clear advantages, especially for leaders. Being bigger meant being more imposing, being more able to impose one's will physically, and being perceived as stronger and more prepared to face the challenges of a hunter-gatherer existence.
But being taller does nothing to make me a better leader, or even person, in a post-modern service economy fueled by mechanized agriculture. If anything, it is objectively disadvantageous. I require more fuel but in exchange for not providing more. I take up more space in a world in which space is often at a premium. And in an economy in which longevity is no longer a problem for the tribe (as it allows workers to contribute for longer, as opposed to being a burden to the tribe when people outlived their ability to hunt or gather), I am at a disadvantage, too: shorter people live longer.
Despite all this, though, I am afforded completely undeserved advantages. Taller men earn more. We have an easier time dating. We are more likely to win elections. People even listen to us more. I have witnessed this last phenomenon many times in my career as a businessman. People just seem to want to defer to me more than they do to shorter people, which is just patently absurd. Height gives me no greater insights or wisdom or intelligence or experience. And yet I very often myself leading meetings because apparently everyone just seems to subconsciously decide that Tall Chief Ooga Booga Man must be in charge of this particular hunting party. It often makes me wonder where I would be in life had I stopped growing at, say, 5'7" (170 cm). Had I, as millions of shorter men are forced to do, had to rely strictly on my actual talents and intelligence, would I have achieved as much? I like to think so. After all, there are millions of highly successful short people. But I will never know for sure how big a contribution an accident of genetics has made in my life.
So, all in all, do I like being tall? It's a mixed bag. There are days I wish I could just move unobtrusively through the world. And as a lover of travel, I have often found my height a limiting factor. (I could write a whole blog entry on adventures I have missed out on due to my size, and it's no treat walking through the streets of, say, Beijing, towering over almost every single person by a whole head, banging my noggin into low-hanging signs.) And as someone who dates, I occasionally wonder, "Would this woman be out with me right now if I were short?"
That last point makes me crazy. As someone who has used dating apps, I can tell you that there are far too many women out there who put too much emphasis on a man's height. It's incredible to me how many women simply reject shorter men out of hand. Many put it right there in their profiles: "No one under 6 feet (183 cm), please!" is a very common refrain. I try not to judge them too harshly. After all, physical attraction just is what it is. You can't control your attraction to taller people, any more than another person can stop himself from being attracted to, say, brunettes. The hormones want what the hormones want, I suppose. Still, it's a bit heart-breaking to think about all the wonderful relationships that will never happen just because that charming, intelligent, witty fellow happened to be a few inches too short according to some random cut-off.
Overall, being tall sometimes makes me feel a bit like a lottery-winner or heir at a gathering of self-made millionaires: I have what they have, but came to it more through luck than merit. But that doesn't make me less grateful. The occasional sore forehead aside, it's not a terrible thing to be.
