The Question of Height: A Matter of Perspective

There comes a moment in every interspecies interaction when the height difference is acknowledged. It is inevitable. Sometimes, it is subtle—a glance upward, a measured pause before speaking. Other times, it is direct: “Wow, you’re tall.”

Yes. I am.

As a gazelle, height is both a functional adaptation and a social predicament. Standing nearly two meters tall, I possess an unavoidable presence. This is, I have been told, intimidating to some and intriguing to others. It is also, at times, impractical. Conversations at restaurants require a subtle lean forward to avoid appearing aloof. Intimate moments demand careful posture management, lest the illusion of closeness be marred by an impassable altitude gap.

And yet, I have found that height, like all things, is a matter of perspective. What is an obstacle to some is an asset to others. In the end, the true measure of compatibility is not vertical, but existential—though I do take care when walking through doorways.