I have a confession: When Donald J. Trump swept five primaries on Tuesday, I was a little bit excited. And I don’t think I’m the only person who despises the role racism plays in American life who feels this way.

Let me explain.

For a certain group of voters, part of Mr. Trump’s appeal is obvious. They hear their own views echoed in his divisive and bigoted rhetoric. They’re the ones who nod in agreement that Mexican immigrants are rapists who are “bringing drugs” and that all Muslims should be barred from entering the United States. They’re people who think the linguistic anachronism “the blacks” sounds appropriate. They yearn for the return to a long-lost “great” version of America that it’s safe to guess existed before the implementation of the Civil Rights Act.

I’m not in this group. The prospect of a Trump presidency horrifies me. Like many others, I find the bigotry behind the Republican front-runner’s most controversial views infuriating and frightening.

But I also find it familiar. I’m a journalist who writes about race, so I spend a lot of time thinking about the way racism shapes American life, both in individual interactions and in the way institutions operate. What’s most frustrating is that, despite all the evidence, convincing people who would rather not believe that this is real can be hard.