The Height of the Matter

Every year on my daughter's birthday, we mark her height on the doorjamb of her room, although if it were up to her, we'd mark it every few weeks. It's astonishing to look at all those marks further down the woodwork and think about how much I didn't know back then, and what I hadn't even guessed at yet about who she (or I, for that matter) would come to be.

It's got me thinking this week about height. When I sat down and started making notes about it, it really became shocking to me about how prominently height and size influence cultures around the world. And, frankly, about how surprising it is that it's shocking. We come into this world so much of a smaller size than just about everything in the world around us. The people that we're closest to tower over us, and the impression never leaves us that we have to literally "look up to" those who are stronger and in control of our lives.

I think this is probably why people look up to the sky when they think about their concept of God, and the power He represents. We're looking for the ultimate parental figure, to care about us the way our parents had (or perhaps the way we wish they had), and the heavens are the only place that is forever bigger than us. And part of most religious rituals is to kneel or supplicating in prayer, becoming even smaller and lower before whatever power you’re praying to. Even when we attempt to elevate people and other gods to greater-than-human status, the best way to do that is portray them in larger-than-life ways... Sometimes these representations are intended to inspire awe by magnification (Michelangelo's David), to deify (the statue of Zeus in his temple at Olympia, the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C.), or can sometimes be seen as symbols of subjugation (Mount Rushmore?), but in all cases, size equals power.

This trend even continues into fashion. Think of all the things people do to make themselves appear larger than they are. You can immediately tell the hierarchical status of a Catholic priest, Egyptian king, or French chef by the height of their hats. When women first started coming into the white-collar work place in force, they augmented themselves with extra-high heels and shoulder pads, trying to make themselves as physically present as they grew in boardroom power.

The simplest sign of humility before someone of greater authority is to literally make yourself shorter by bowing or curtsying. The elaborate Japanese custom of ojigi takes this into the realm of art, with correct posture and form conveying fine levels of meaning. It’s similar to the Islamic religious postures of ruku (bowing) and sujud (prostration). Even when the humility is mostly for show -- such as performers bowing to their audience, even though they've been the center of attention for the duration of the performance -- it still forms a connection of a particular sort between people.

This distinction is so woven into our cultural fabric that people still consider it when choosing partners. Women will think twice about dating a man who is shorter than them, and men will do the same about a woman who is. Of course, this is only a tendency. Still, I can't help but notice that cultures who on average tend to be taller also have more freedom in choosing who they marry... those where the decisions are made more by arranged marriages, or with regard to familial and political alliances – basically, things other than physical attraction -- seem to have men and women of about the same average height.

Physical size, and height in particular, is perhaps the one true universal human trait, which has been noted and woven into all of our cultures in an amazing myriad of ways. As much as we’ve changed, these traditions have persisted because they derive from our common physical form, and the process every single one of us goes through as we move from childhood to adulthood.