‘Be a man and vote for a woman’: Kamala Harris’s unlikely edge in America’s masculinity election

A man in a baseball cap strides through a field of corn. A woman in flannel turns and smiles, a line of trucks visible behind her. As piano music swells, an American flag ripples in a gentle breeze. This video is pure, uncut Americana. Naturally, it's a political ad.

Specifically, it's an ad made by the Lincoln Project, a group of moderates and former Republicans united by a desire to topple Donald Trump and support Kamala Harris. And it's making one of the most obvious appeals to men and masculinity yet in the 2024 election.

As the ad nears its crescendo, the deep voice of Sam Elliott, an actor best known for playing grizzled but folksy cowboy types, demands: "What the hell are you waiting for? Because if it's the woman thing, it's time to get over that." He continues: "It's time to be a man and vote for a woman."

Masculinity and people's views on gender roles may be more important than ever in 2024 - and not just because Harris is the first woman of color to ever secure a major-party nomination for president. The 2022 overturning of Roe v Wade thrust women's rights to the forefront of the election. Numerous identity-based groups, including White Dudes for Harris, have gathered to drum up enthusiasm. An extreme gender gap has also yawned open among the youngest US voters: having come of age in the era of #MeToo, gen Z women are becoming the most progressive and politically active cohort ever measured - while gen Z men are increasingly apathetic to politics and drifting further to the right.

Conservatives are openly using anxiety around masculinity to win this election, telling men that their problems stem from not being man enough. Josh Hawley, the influential Republican senator from Missouri, published a book called Manhood: The Masculine Virtues America Needs. The Fox News host Jesse Watters went even further.

"I don't see why any man would vote Democrat. It's not the party of virtue, security. It's not the party of strength," Watters said, shortly after White Dudes for Harris held a call with more than 190,000 participants. Watters added: "I heard the scientists say the other day that when a man votes for a woman, he actually transitions into a woman."

Watters is not a serious person, but Americans' obsession with masculinity is, to the point that it can determine the outcome even of presidential elections where two men are running. (So, most of them.) Americans revere presidents as role models, fixating on their status - real or perceived - as founding fathers, real fathers, war heroes, and masters of diplomacy and making money and cheating on their wives without getting caught (or, at least, without getting divorced). Because presidents epitomize American notions of manhood, elections reveal what kind of man, what type and degree of masculinity, is most respected and deserving of power.

Trump has turned his campaign into a pitch for hyper-traditional masculinity. At this year's Republican national convention, he walked on stage to the James Brown song It's a Man's Man's Man's World and was introduced by Dana White, the president of the Ultimate Fighting Championship who was caught slapping his wife on camera. On the campaign trail, he has hammed it up with YouTubers and podcasters who have male-centric audiences and dim views of women.

With the general public and her opponent so preoccupied by masculinity, Harris is not emphasizing her pioneering nomination. Rather, in order to win a contest that no woman has ever won, she's trying to take advantage of stereotypes about men, women and leadership - and, when they can't work in her favor, using them to kneecap Trump instead.

Masculinity, it turns out, may be the most partisan issue in US politics.

When people conjure up the image of a "good man" or a "real man", they tend to imagine the same qualities: someone who is dominant, successful and tough - and who is nothing like women, according to Theresa Vescio, a psychology professor who studies gender, politics and privilege at Penn State.

This way of thinking is so pervasive that people gender political matters that, objectively, have no sex. National defense and the economy are seen as topics that men care about, because men are expected to prize being providers for and protectors of their families. Healthcare - including abortion rights - and education are seen as women's issues, because women are supposed to be compassionate caregivers. (In reality, at least among gen Z, young women care about all of these issues more than young men do.) Even the political parties themselves are gendered: Republicans are associated with more masculine issues and traits, Democrats with feminine ones.

These stereotypes inform American ideals of the presidency. "What we expect in a good leader is that they're powerful, high status, top, able to lead. That overlaps substantially with stereotypes of masculinity and men," Vescio said. "So when we think about who would be a good leader, stereotypes of men fit and complement. There's no incongruity."

They complement one another so seamlessly, in fact, that the role of masculinity in elections was once invisible. We're so used to seeing men run for office, and seeing "gender" only become a buzzword when a woman steps into the fray, that we often don't even recognize that men have a gender, let alone that male candidates offer up different, competing visions of masculinity.

But they do compete, even in the most animalistic ways. For example, presidential candidates are more likely to succeed when they have one key, traditionally masculine physical quality: height.

The taller candidate is more likely to win more votes and be re-elected; they are also more likely to be seen by experts as being better leaders and simply "greater". This link between height and presidential preference is so strong and so subconscious that when Richard Nixon ran against John F Kennedy in 1960, voters tended to think their chosen candidate was taller. (Kennedy was taller, and he won.) Ron DeSantis might have been laughed at for reportedly wearing ill-fitting heels when he ran for president, but he would have been right to worry.

If you're still not convinced, take the 2004 race between George W Bush and John Kerry, which hinged on the candidates' supposed manhood to a startling degree. Bush sold himself as a down-home rancher who may have occasionally been "misunderestimated" but who you wanted to grab a beer with. Kerry, meanwhile, was a Vietnam combat veteran with a deep understanding of policy. This presented a problem for Bush: how could he be "the man's man" when his opponent was part of the uber-masculine military?

"What they did was, they went and they attacked his service record, because that was his greatest political strength," said Jackson Katz, author of the book Man Enough? Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton and the Politics of Presidential Masculinity. An advocacy group, technically formed independent of Bush, dedicated itself to questioning Kerry's record.

Katz continued of Kerry: "His attitude was like: 'This is beneath me, to respond to these attacks.' And it backfired. Because in the masculinity narrative, if you don't defend your honor that's being besmirched, you're emasculated, you're not strong."

Kerry, of course, lost.

The architect of the attack to undermine Kerry is now working on Trump's 2024 campaign, which is attempting to run the same playbook against Tim Walz. JD Vance, Trump's running mate, has suggested that Walz left the national guard to avoid serving in the Iraq war.

In fact, Walz was in the national guard for 24 years and left to run for Congress several months before his unit was deployed to Iraq. Walz has defended his record - but Team Trump isn't typically all that worried about the truth.

When Trump descended down a golden escalator during the 2016 primary, we entered a new, far more obvious era of presidential masculinity. During that primary, Trump loved to talk about "Little Marco" Rubio, which prompted Rubio to attack Trump for his supposedly undersized hands. There is no better proof that masculinity underscores presidential elections than two candidates subtly accusing one another of having small penises.

Well, maybe there is: Trump, the man who started the dick-measuring contest, won the one for the White House, too.

The more people believe that traditional notions of masculinity are good and true, the more likely they were to vote for Trump in 2016, when Trump ran against a woman, and 2020, when Trump did not, Vescio found in a 2021 study. This finding held true regardless of people's party, gender, race or level of education. It also held true even after Vescio controlled for people's trust, or lack thereof, in government, undermining the idea that Trump's popularity is due to his populism rather than his masculine posturing.

When it comes to cosplaying masculinity, one of Trump's greatest assets is his disinterest in reality. In other words: he's good at making big, bold, often untrue statements, and people like that in a man.

"Trump promises, more than anybody else: 'I'm going to do this.' Oftentimes, in violation of what the president can actually do," said the political scientist Dan Cassino, who studies male gender identity at Fairleigh Dickinson University. "But he says he's going to go in and fix a problem. 'I'm going to do this on day one. Whatever Congress says doesn't matter.' That sort of agentic behavior is perceived as being very, very masculine."

Republicans, especially, really like this kind of behavior in a man. This can partially be chalked up to demographics. Both men and older people, who are more likely to embrace traditional gender roles, are likelier to be Republicans. It can be explained by the nature of conservatism itself. Conservatives want to preserve tradition.

There's also another explanation: sexism.

"As researchers, we differentiate between hostile sexism and benevolent sexism. Hostile sexism is: 'Women are terrible and it's OK to beat your wife,'" Cassino said. "Benevolent sexism is more like: 'Oh, women are pure and precious, we have to protect them.' That means keeping them out of things like politics, putting up separate spheres."

Lilliana Mason, a Johns Hopkins University professor who studies partisan identity, measured people's hostile sexism by asking whether they agreed with statements like: "Women seek to gain power by getting control over men." Republicans, she found, were on average about twice as likely as Democrats to show signs of hostile sexism.

"The better predictor of being Republican is not gender, but sexism," Mason said. "There are a lot of women who hold sexist attitudes and are pro-patriarchy and believe that women shouldn't be in power."

I've encountered shades of this attitude: in January 2020, I met a woman in her 30s from Louisiana, at the March for Life, the largest annual anti-abortion gathering in the United States. Women, she told me at the time, should not be president, because they just can't be leaders in the same way as men.

"Women and men are completely different biologically," she said. "And so for that reason, I believe that they should have specific jobs for who they are, biologically."

She planned to vote for Trump.

Sexism is more than a collection of views about women - it's a belief system about how men and women should interact. (And that men and women are the only two genders.) But as much as Trump may benefit from the GOP's sexism, he doesn't seem all that interested in gender relations. He has praised and attacked individual women, including his accuser E Jean Carroll, often over their looks, but he rarely speaks about women as a category.

Instead, he has largely delegated that to JD Vance.

In addition to claiming that "traditional masculine traits are now actively suppressed from childhood all the way through adulthood", Vance has denigrated childfree women as "childless cat ladies", agreed that the purpose of the "postmenopausal female" is to help raise grandchildren, and claimed women who prioritize careers over families are on "a path to misery".

"Vance is very much doing appeals, I think, less about masculinity, more about benevolent sexism," Cassino said. "At its edges, it goes into what is called natalism, that the job of women is to reproduce, which is the extreme, extreme end of benevolent sexism."

This is the Vance innovation on the already masculine Trump ticket: he operationalizes Trump's static vision of white-man hypermasculinity into a blueprint for how genders should live with one another. If Trump and Vance win, that blueprint could be turned into policy.

There are signs that Trump is coming around to Vance's approach - at least when it comes to abortion, one of Trump's biggest electoral weaknesses and an issue that has quite a bit to do with male-female relations.

"I WILL PROTECT WOMEN AT A LEVEL NEVER SEEN BEFORE," he posted to TruthSocial over the weekend. "THEY WILL FINALLY BE HEALTHY, HOPEFUL, SAFE, AND SECURE."

When Harris walked out on stage at the Democratic convention to accept her party's nomination for president, Kelly Dittmar was immediately struck by one thing.

"She didn't wear white," said Dittmar, who, as the director of research at Rutgers' Center for American Women and Politics, makes something of a living noting how powerful women present themselves in public.

White is the color of the suffragettes who fought for women's right to vote in the late 19th and early 20th centuries; Democratic women regularly don it for the major rituals of US politics, including the convention. "Like half the crowd was wearing white," Dittmar pointed out.

But not Harris. She wore a navy suit and a matching pussy bow blouse.

It was an unmistakable declaration: Harris did not want to focus on how she has made history. In the weeks since, she has stayed true to that stance. When presidential debate moderators brought up abortion and Donald Trump's racist lies about her identity, Harris didn't respond with anecdotes about her experience as a woman of color. Instead, she told the audience: "I do believe that the vast majority of us know that we have so much more in common than what separates us."

If Hillary Clinton stands accused of focusing on her gender too much when she ran for president in 2016, Harris is doing everything she can to avoid falling into the same trap. But the braided nature of masculinity, leadership and politics leaves female political candidates in such a bind that even the act of raising an eyebrow becomes fraught.

During the debate, Harris didn't bother to hide her skepticism at Trump's boasts, lies and rambling. "If she wants to win, Harris needs to train her face not to respond," the pollster Frank Luntz posted on X at the time. "It feeds into a female stereotype and, more importantly, risks offending undecided voters."

It's not clear what "female stereotype" Luntz - who said nothing of Trump's tendency to smirk while Harris spoke - was referring to. (The female stereotype of having expressions?) But it is true that "as a female candidate, you have to be feminine, because otherwise you're not a good woman", Cassino said. "But you also have to be masculine, because in the US, we've decided that leaders are masculine. So you have to have masculine traits and feminine traits."

When it comes to telegraphing her masculine credentials, Harris has a built-in advantage: she spent years working in law enforcement, a field associated with toughness, victory and men. In her very first speech as the presumptive Democratic candidate, Harris recalled her time as a prosecutor and California attorney general.

"In those roles, I took on perpetrators of all kinds," she said, using a line that has since become a part of her stump speech. "Predators who abused women. Fraudsters who ripped off consumers. Cheaters who broke the rules for their own gain. So hear me when I say: I know Donald Trump's type." Translation: she knows how to dominate the worst of the worst.

"Democrats don't need Harris to go out and shoot guns in her campaign ad or on the campaign trail," said Nichole Bauer, a Louisiana State University professor who studies political communication. "But they do need her to display those masculine qualities that we associate with political leaders, and those are really masculine qualities that we don't always think of as being gendered - like talking about her experience as a vice-president, an attorney general, a senator."

Last week, Harris sat down with Oprah, who had been stunned to learn, during the debate, that the vice-president owns a gun. "If somebody breaks into my house, they're getting shot," Harris said. Then she laughed. "Probably should not have said that."

That exchange encapsulated Harris's balancing act. She's got a gun and she's not afraid to use it, but she'll laugh about it. That laugh, experts said, may be one of Harris's best assets when it comes to convincing voters that she is both competent and warm. It helps burnish her claim that she's a "joyful warrior", an image that "creates a distinct persona that I think bridges those gendered expectations", Dittmar said. Joy, she continued, "alludes [to] kindness and even empathy, which is more traditionally associated with femininity and women".

There are very few true independents in the US electorate; all but 3% of self-identified independents lean Democrat or Republican. But that tiny fraction of the population can decide a close election. When judging a candidate, undecided voters tend to rely heavily on racial and gendered stereotypes, according to Bauer.

"If Harris displays masculinity in a super aggressive way, similar to how Trump and Vance might do it, then she risks falling into this 'angry Black woman' stereotype that we've been socialized to think of as a negative stereotype, as something incompatible with political leadership," Bauer said. "It's just this really narrow set of behaviors that she has to fit into to try to show her leadership qualities."

In past elections, the men who have tried to take down Trump attempted to outman him. Rubio suggested he had a bigger you-know-what; DeSantis sold himself to voters as the grown-up version of Trump; in a 2020 debate, Joe Biden snapped: "Donald, would you just be quiet for a minute?" But running on full-tilt masculinity would never work for Harris. Not only did it not work for most of those men, but as a woman, she cannot win a masculinity-off.

Instead, her supporters' best shot at defeating Trump may be to unman him. That Lincoln Project ad, for example, framed Trump next to images of the deadly Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville. Harris, meanwhile, is pictured giving a salute. "The images of Trump in the ad are chaotic. It's social unrest," pointed out Erin Cassese, a University of Delaware political science professor. The ad seems to ask: would a real man lose control like Trump did?

During the debate, Harris urged viewers to go to one of Trump's rallies. "He talks about fictional characters like Hannibal Lecter. He will talk about 'windmills cause cancer'," she said. "And what you will also notice is that people start leaving his rallies early out of exhaustion and boredom."

Those attacks - the kind of attacks that could once have been directed at Biden - also undermine Trump's masculinity. Cassino summarized the message as: "He's kind of old and confused and weird. This is not a masculine guy."

As much as the internet may like to call traditional stereotypes of masculinity "toxic", they are not necessarily bad. Success, hardiness, being a provider and protector - those can all be good qualities.

The problem, for individuals, is that stereotypes of masculinity can be so strict and stifling that they are impossible for anybody to live up to. No one can be in power at all times. You might be the boss at the office, but when you get home, your teenage children are still likely to ignore your commands.

And, for US society as a whole, clinging to a narrow notion of masculinity really can be toxic. "It allows for aggression towards groups that aren't appropriately masculine, which would be different kinds of groups of men that we define as problems, and women," Vescio said. "It masks racism and sexism."

Harris isn't right or wrong to lean into some masculine stereotypes. After all, if a woman can harness them well enough to win the most masculine office in US history, then maybe such attitudes and behaviors won't be considered "masculine" any more. Maybe they're just ways that people, of all genders, can act. Maybe voters will start to value "feminine" traits in leaders, too.

"The only way we can ever stop defining our politics in terms of men versus women is, have so many women run that is just not notable any more," Cassino said.

Sending Trump back to the White House may affirm his brand of masculinity on a national scale. The more Trump larps masculinity, the more Republicans grow to like it; the more deeply invested they become in masculinity, the more polarized the United States may become. People who support traditional masculinity also tend to show signs of sexism (benevolent and hostile), anti-Black racism, Islamophobia and xenophobia.

But, in Dittmar's view, voting Harris into office may indicate that people don't want to shove women into a separate sphere.

"We're voting on a lot of things, but among them is that version of leadership and our evaluation of these gendered versions of it," Dittmar said. "As well as, even more broadly, our sense of the appropriate roles of women, the ways in which women should be treated by our political leaders."