A few years ago, I attended a production of Much Ado About Nothing at the Globe Theatre in London.
The great thing about the Globe is that you can get a ticket for just five pounds if you don’t mind standing through the whole show.
I had purchased one of these tickets and was standing surrounded by several hundred theatre fans when I realised, I was the tallest person there.
This isn’t a new feeling.
The average height of a man in the UK is 5ft9 (according to the Office of National Statistics) and since I’m 6ft5, it’s rare that I’m not the tallest person in the room.
But in that theatre, with everyone cramped so close together, it felt more noticeable than ever.
My head and shoulders were well above everyone else’s to a noticeable degree; I felt like I was poking my head out of a field of wheat, exposed, and standing out.
Events like these are not uncommon.
I was once at a bastille day celebration on the banks of the Seine, standing quite far back from the display of fireworks, and someone behind me asked me to either move or lower myself so that I wouldn’t obscure their view of the fireworks, high in the air.
Moments like these may seem merely anecdotal, but they are emblematic of a larger issue I have to deal with.
Aside from being tall, I have high levels of social anxiety and can find it hard to feel like I’m really integrated with a group of people when I hang out with them.
And honestly, my height plays a significant part in that.
When you’re clearly taller than everyone around you, it’s hard not to feel a certain level of discomfort.
I’ve been around friends where there is a more or less average height range that I significantly exceeded, and the feeling is almost obtrusive.
I look back on photos of me in groups, and always the excess height makes me stick out awkwardly, like a human ‘what is different about this photo’.
It’s not just the way I look, but what I observe in others that reinforces this notion of separateness. I’m aware of little things, like constantly having to look down when talking to someone, and seeing the way they look at other people directly versus looking up at me.
I have to be conscious of pace when walking with other people, lest I go too fast and they ask me to wait or slow down.
There’s a moment of minor surprise when I meet someone for the first time, especially if I’m initially sitting down and stand only to tower slightly over them.
And if I’m dating someone who’s shorter than me significantly, it’s hard to avoid a weird feeling that I look more like their parent than their partner.
These things may seem trivial; a minor inconvenience compared with the advantages of being tall.
Tallness in men is presented as a virtue in the media, something to be desired. But when I already feel subconscious that I stand and out and don’t fit in with my peers, having such a clear visual example of this can reinforce the main underlying anxiety.
It seems to confirm what I already worry to be true, and that can make the feelings more prominent and difficult to manage.
My situation is likely not the most relatable one; being 6ft5 in the U.K is not the most common occurrence, though of course, I’m glad to know there are others.
But this shows how a physical feature that can seem appealing from the outside can be a source of worry internally.
Having insecurities about your appearance is unfortunately not uncommon, and everyone’s insecurities should always be treated with respect and reassurance.
Insecurities about the body, no matter what they may be, are a part of insecurities about the self, and we should all try and offer what help we can to those who struggle with them.
