Why can't a seven-foot guy play a doctor? Why can't I be a

Hear the words of Grizz Chapman, who spoke not only for himself, but for countless others unseen: “Why can’t a seven-foot guy play a doctor? Why can’t I be a teacher? Why can’t I be a football coach? Why can’t I be a cab driver? Anything. Anything else than that. I can cry. I can do those things that they think the big guys can’t do. So just give us a chance.” This is not merely the cry of one man; it is the eternal voice of those bound by the chains of stereotype, yearning to break free and live in the fullness of their humanity.

The heart of this quote lies in the prison of expectation. Society, quick to judge by appearance, often reduces men and women to symbols of what they look like, rather than seeing the boundless potential within. To Grizz, his great height became both a gift and a cage. The world saw him as a giant, perhaps a bodyguard or an athlete, but not as a man capable of tenderness, wisdom, or versatility. His lament is an appeal to see beyond the outer form to the inner soul, where all men are capable of laughter, sorrow, compassion, and strength.

History is filled with similar cries. Consider the story of Paul Robeson, towering in stature and booming in voice, who was expected to be nothing more than a strong athlete. Yet Robeson shattered such limits, becoming a lawyer, a singer, an actor, and an activist who spoke with passion for the oppressed. Like Grizz, he too asked: Why must a man be confined to one role, when his spirit can stretch into so many? His life is proof that the boundaries imposed by society are but illusions, waiting for courage to dissolve them.

In these words we hear also the ancient struggle of those judged not only by size, but by race, gender, or station. How many women, for centuries, were told they could not be scholars or rulers? How many men of humble birth were told they could never be leaders or poets? Yet time and again, history has proven such verdicts false. The chance denied is often the only thing standing between obscurity and greatness. Grizz’s plea, “just give us a chance,” is the same cry that has echoed through every age, whenever human beings have sought to break free of narrow roles.

The lesson is powerful: never assume you know the measure of a soul by the measure of a body. A man may be tall, yet tender; a woman may be soft-spoken, yet mighty; the poor may carry wisdom greater than kings. To deny them the opportunity to express their full humanity is to deny the richness of creation itself. Each person carries countless possibilities, and only prejudice blinds us from seeing them.

Practically, this lesson calls us to action: when you look upon another, resist the urge to place them in a box built from appearance or stereotype. Instead, listen to their voice, watch their talents unfold, and give them the chance to show what lies within. If you yourself have been confined by others’ judgments, rise above them; pursue what your heart calls you to be, even if the world laughs. Let your life be the proof that you are more than what others imagine.

Remember always: the giant may be gentle, the warrior may be wise, the outcast may be noble. Grizz’s words remind us that humanity is vast, and no man or woman can be defined by size, skin, or circumstance alone. The soul cries out for freedom, and when given a chance, it can astonish the world. So let us see one another not by the shell of the body, but by the flame of the spirit, and in doing so, create a world where all may live in their fullness.