Five feet, eleven inches. Five foot ten if you ask me and I don’t know you. Six foot if you’re annoying me – or if I’m trying out for volleyball, or I’m trying to land a modeling job. Which, I mean, basically never happens. So listen. I am a tall girl. Like, really tall. Like, five feet eleven inches of condensed social anxiety tall. And for most of my life growing up, I felt like this was something to be embarrassed about. It’s weird, because people don’t pitch it like it’s a bad thing. Just something that should immediately be commented upon. “How tall are you?” “Wow, you’re really tall.” “Do you play volleyball?” “How tall are you?” “Oh, really? No volleyball? So basketball then?” “How tall are you?” “No basketball! So then – oh my god. Do you do modeling?” “You make me feel so short!” “How tall are you?” And, I mean, whatever. A lot of the time people are just trying to make conversation, and my abnormal height is an easy ice breaker. But never in my life have I seen someone start a conversation with a petite girl by saying, “Wow. You’re like, really short.” So what’s the deal with this tall girl obsession? I think it comes down to expectation. Women tend to be naturally shorter, and that’s cool, no biggie. But it’s more than that. Women are expected to be smaller than men, point blank. The hegemonic discourse, ie the societal narrative, tells us that women should be less intelligent, less capable, less tall than men. Otherwise, we pose a threat. Well, yay for me, because apparently even my genetics are determined to disrupt that power structure. It’s honestly miraculous how much my height affects the way people, particularly men, view me. During my first week of college, a random guy on my hall made the offhand comment to my roommate that he would never date me because I was “too tall” and it made him insecure. This exchange is hilarious for several reasons, the primary being that he assumed I would be interested in dating him in the first place. I have also found that in meeting different guys, one of their first questions is always about how tall I am. It doesn’t even matter if they are physically taller than me – they still want to know the number, they still want to take comfort in that number, see that it is lower than theirs, believe in the power that it grants them. Literally one day after I finished the first draft of this blog post, this happened. I was taking a cheap bus home from New York, and we had a rest stop at Burger King. The guy behind the counter was wearing a faded cap and watched me carefully as I gave him my order. He told me the total, and when I reached out to hand him the money, he didn’t take it. He just kept looking at me. “How tall are you?” he said. I felt like I’d been caught doing something wrong. Which is ridiculous -- this guy made me feel like I should be embarrassed just because I was standing there and being tall. I gave him my standard I-Don’t-Know-You answer. “Like five ten,” I said. He snorted. Actually snorted, and took the money I was holding out to him. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’m like five ten. Nice try.” For the record, this douche was five foot eight, TOPS. But I was so put on the spot, so irrationally embarrassed, that I just looked at him, just looked at that smug ugly smile, and said nothing. Maybe I should have pointed out that he was working in a crusty Burger King pretending to be tall, and I was a towering force of a woman taking a bus back to Boston. Nice try to you, sir. But I didn’t. When I was in middle school, I hated my height with a venomous passion. I always felt like I was too small for my body, like there was too much skin for not enough me. But now I feel differently about it. Now I understand that my body knows me better than I do. My body knew from the beginning that I should reach for higher places. My body knew before I did that I am strong, that I am capable, that I am powerful. I love being a tall girl. I am learning to embrace my own power, and I know very well that male expectations should have nothing to do with that. I am more than my height, but my height is a part of me – and it is a part of me I am proud of. yours in haste,
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Authorkelsey day is a young award winning poet who grew up in the blue mountains of north carolina. she has received recognition for a collection of short stories, as well as two novels she published at the ages of 11 and 13. today she is studying creative writing in boston, massachusetts. Archives
March 2021
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