Editor's Notebook: Being Tall

I am convinced that being "tall" is a unique experience--one that differs greatly from all other physiques.

First, there are blatant physical advantages: I have an automatic mechanical advantage in all sports, with the exception of gymnastics and horse jockeying, where I am tremendously disadvantaged. Lankiness and athletics are a great combination; whether stealing balls or whacking others, I usually win. (I can whack someone from three feet away, but they can't whack me.)

Second, I can use my long limbs to reach stuff. All stuff. With a 6'4" wingspan, I usually don't even have to get up. My dorm room features my belongings built upwards towards the heavens, creating 50 percent more space. Look around your room--there's lots of wasted empty space above the 4'5" mark. I use that space, so because I'm tall, I get more space, and therefore more stuff. This may seem unfair, except that smaller beings don't realize that when you're larger than average, your stuff is also larger than average. For example, my wardrobe takes up double the space of my 5'0" roommate's wardrobe, so I really do need the extra room.

Third, the general anonymity that comes with attending a 6,000-person school isn't nearly as strong at 6'2". People recognize me. Any physical trait that differs from the norm makes a person easily noticeable, and extreme height is the most easily identifiable of all. From my lofty perch, I stick out in a crowd; my taste for brightly colored clothing only adds to the phenomenon. Visibility can be a distinctly negative trait when trying to blend in with a group during the middle school years or when movie-hopping (I get caught). But visibility has its positive side; professors in large classes always recognize me (though this means my absence is also noticed). Once introduced, people never forget me, which is nice.

I receive an unusually tall dose of annoying questions from strangers, the most common of which is, "Do you play basketball?" (No.) Affirmative statements are also popular, such as "You're really tall," and, "You're taller than my father." Yes, I am taller than your father. In fact, I'm taller than most people's fathers--94.1 percent of all men to be exact. This creates difficulties in the dating department, where tall men like to date unnecessarily short women and short men seem to be all the rage this decade. After subtracting for irreconcilable personality differences and bad hairdos, I'm left with two Harvard men who meet the necessary height and intellect requirements; one is currently seeing another woman, and the other is taking a semester abroad.

If I were to gain weight, the experience wouldn't be pleasant. Not only would weight gain cancel out all likelihood of ever fitting a mainstream wardrobe, but tall people don't actually get fat. Instead, they get big. There's a difference--tall women can never become round and curvy like shorter people do. Instead, they grow increasingly oversized. This is why the phrase "She's a tall girl" is much preferable to "She's a big girl." Please remember that one.

After dealing with the above challenges for an entire lifetime, there's an unspoken bond between tall women everywhere. Towering 11 inches over the average American female is a very distinctive experience. (I should mention that "tall" is a relative term. In France, 5'7" makes a woman tall; the tallest woman at Harvard, who is 6'11", doesn't consider me tall.) Very few women are in my direct line of vision, so when I see one, there's a little nod that's automatically given, a kind of "Hey, you're like me" nod of approval. It's barely conscious but definitely there, an automatic circle of understanding. The understanding is so great that a network of more than 100 Tall Clubs has popped up across the country and Europe, all under the banner of Tall Clubs International, where tall people of the world are currently exploring tall dating opportunities while plotting their takeover.

And one day, we may win. Look out below.

--Arianne R. Cohen