STATESBORO, Ga. — Growing up in a factory family in small-town Indiana, I led an uncertain life with only a few constants: fear of losing it all, frustration with a world out of our control and the ever-present need to “be a man,” a phrase that always carried with it an air of responsibility and torment. To be a man was to maintain the appearance of toughness, to never let on that you were weak or in pain.

It was a command I heard repeatedly at home and around town, handed down by my stepfather and role models. My stepdad was fond of saying, “Boys don’t cry — crying’s for women.” One of my high school football coaches gave injured players this choice: “You a football player or are you a little girl?”

Donald J. Trump, especially the Donald J. Trump we heard last week on tape, is nothing new to me. His macho-isms, his penchant for dividing the world into losers and winners, his lack of empathy for anyone but himself — it all reminds me of home, and the sense I had, even as a boy, of a system of privilege that has ailed this country since its beginnings, but now seems to be, and sees itself, fading away.

Taking refuge in traditional masculinity is a coping mechanism that works only so much as it deadens a man and his emotions. In its most pure state, masculinity is a hardening shell meant to protect men from the disappointments and travails of life, a self-delusion that preserves them from feeling overwhelmed by the odds against them.