I Don't Care About Joe Rogan's Height (and I Don't Think You Should Either)

This past month, the words “Joe Rogan is literally 5 foot 3” were projected on the Los Angeles sky as part of an elaborate marriage proposal. The very public gesture opened with “Will you marry me, Mollie Pratt,” continued with “I love you more than anything,” and closed with the message about the famous podcaster. The sky messages apparently cost $17,500, while also generating millions of impressions across Instagram, TikTok, and other social media platforms. I could only assume Rogan was fuming, as he screamed at his phone or anyone that would listen that he’s actually five-eight. But who cares how tall Joe Rogan really is? I sincerely don’t, and I don’t think you should either. 

But height matters. We care a lot about people’s heights, especially men’s heights, and anyone who says that height doesn’t matter is kidding themselves. Why do you think 6’3 Chad on Tinder feels compelled to include his height in his bio? Because he thinks that Becky or Brad will partially base their decisions to swipe left or right, off of Chad’s height. And Chad isn’t wrong for thinking that. We associate tallness with attractiveness and power, and as a result, we perpetuate a superficial yet arbitrary evaluation of someone’s moral value based on a physical characteristic that they can’t even change. By the way, do you know who’s also 6’3? Donald Trump, who 63 million people swiped right on in 2016, electing him to become the most powerful person in the world. 

I can say that I, in principle, don’t care about Joe Rogan’s height. Yet, I’m still writing this piece and mentioning his height. But here’s the thing. I think Joe Rogan is insufferable and that he shouldn’t have the fame or influence that he does. He interviews despicable people like Gavin McInnes, the founder of the Proud Boys, and has downplayed the severity of COVID-19 by suggesting that young people not take the vaccine. The person that spent nearly $20k on a sky billboard probably doesn’t like Rogan either. Yet, it took fewer words and it’s funnier to bash Joe Rogan, not because he platforms white supremacists and spreads blatant misinformation. No, let’s publicly humiliate him for being short, let’s laugh about it and share it on our social media. I understand the joke — I get it completely — but I don’t find it funny. 

I can go on and on about these terrible men whom I hate but don’t actually know, but I’d rather talk about terrible men whom I do know and hate, like my friend’s ex-boyfriend. One of my closest girlfriends was in a relationship with a guy who cheated on her, told her that he and his friends didn’t even think she was pretty, and emotionally manipulated her in ways that I will never forgive. My friend trusted me enough to share these vulnerable details of her relationship, so I listened with as much empathy and support as I could. “It’s whatever,” she said. “He’s only 5’7 anyway.”

Her offhand comment about her ex-boyfriend, interestingly enough, made me think about my boyfriend, who’s 5’5. I’m biased, but I think he’s great. He makes me laugh, challenges me intellectually, and most importantly, he treats me with kindness and respect. Everyone who knows him, including my friends, loves him. Yet, even when my friends tell me how much they adore him, I can’t help but feel like they judge him for his height, and as a result, judge me for dating him. It makes me feel bad about a relationship in which I feel happy. And that’s sad. 

I know my friend didn’t mean to hurt my feelings, and maybe I was projecting. Maybe it’s my problem that I’ve felt insecure around my friends about a relationship in which I feel safe and loved. But how could I not project when they’ve criticized guys for their shortness? How could I not feel insecure when they’ve declared they’ll never date a guy who’s shorter than 5’8? 

I’m not here to attack, guilt, or shame women who have commented on men’s heights. I’ve done it too, countless times, which I’m not proud of. I’m also not here to defend men or sympathize with their purported woes. We, women, face so much more scrutiny for how we look, act, everything. Our patriarchal system holds women to ungodly beauty standards that doom us to never be pretty enough, skinny enough, and therefore not good enough — despite having the skills, intelligence, and compassion that one would think is, in fact, of higher value than our physical appearances. We focus on men’s heights because it's one of the only things men can actually be insecure about within patriarchy. Women shame men for their shortness to reclaim a sense of power, even though the power is futile, fleeting, and lasts for a short moment. 

The phenomenon of evaluating people based on their appearances isn’t new, obscure, or specific to one person or one gender. It’s a behavior apparent in our everyday conversations and on display on our most public platforms, such as our dating app and social media profiles. We can claim that appearances don’t matter, but our actions and words would beg to disagree. Yes, we can try to strive for an ideal world in which we don’t evaluate people on their physical characteristics and instead focus on their personality, values, and ethics — who they really are. But how do we strive for that? Where do we start? 

I’m not suggesting that you stop dating tall people and start dating someone short. I’m also not saying you should change who you’re attracted to. What I do think we can change is our rhetoric. Let’s stop shaming men for being short. Criticizing a man because of his height is objectively superficial, and in doing so, it creates a ripple effect in which people feel they can criticize women for being fat and Asians for having too small of eyes. We should stop talking about people’s bodies in general and conflating physical characteristics with moral value. We should hold people accountable for the way that they treat us, which they can control, rather than the way that they look, which they can’t control.

And when I say “we” and “us,” I mean men, women, people of all genders. In the words of feminist author Bell Hooks, to end patriarchy, all of us “need to be clear that we are all participants in perpetuating sexism until we change our minds and hearts.” Let’s challenge the patriarchy by no longer centering our discourse on men and their heights, and instead, acquiring real, long-lasting power by releasing the superficial ideals ingrained in our unequal society. Being taller isn’t better. Being skinnier isn’t more beautiful. Tall men should stop looking down upon short men. Women should stop slighting other women for changes in their weight. We should all just stop commenting on others’ physical appearances, so maybe we can break down impossible beauty standards, unpack our own implicit biases and social conditioning, and become less shallow, more empathetic, better people. Maybe I sound preachy, and maybe this is all just unrealistic blue-sky thinking. But like people say, no dream’s too tall… Not like height really matters.