Facts only go so far — it’s feelings that move people.
I’m reporting to you live from Atlanta, where the unthinkable has happened: Kamala Harris and Donald Trump are neck and neck. Georgia, like six other swing states, is locked in a virtual tie. While Harris has the overall edge in fundraising — having raised more than one billion dollars (thanks in part to Bill Gates) — Trump has clawed back the momentum Harris gained after stepping in for Biden. It’s shaping up to be a nail-biter until the very last vote is counted — and that means every conversation you have with a voter could be the one that tips the balance. Every interaction counts. Especially with men, who seem poised to be the deciding vote in this election.
This weekend, I had one of those pivotal conversations that highlights just how fragile and powerful human connection can be in moving male voters, especially when we contextualize the conversation around their definition of manhood. I spoke with an undecided voter in Fulton Country who had voted for Democratic candidates in the last two elections, but was now considering Trump. He never imagined being in that position, yet here we were on a sunny Saturday, discussing AI, tech, and cryptocurrency — issues that made him uneasy about the Democrats’ regulatory approach.
I brought up Kamala Harris’ promise to support entrepreneurs with a $50,000 tax break and her measured approach to tech innovation, but let’s be real — he wasn’t moved. The facts were there, but they weren’t sparking anything. So we went deeper. What did he really want in life? His answer surprised me: He wanted to start a family. That’s when things clicked.
I asked him what he thought about Trump’s abortion bans. He didn’t immediately connect Trump’s policies with his desire for a family, so I painted a scenario. Imagine his future wife is three months pregnant, they’re thrilled, but she starts bleeding. They rush to the hospital, only to find out doctors, bound by Trump’s abortion ban, can’t perform the procedure to save her life. His face fell.
Then I asked if he knew that Alabama’s Supreme Court had banned IVF, and that Trump ally JD Vance voted against it. Trump himself admitted at a women’s town hall that he didn’t even know what IVF was before overturning the law that protected it. The more we talked, the more I could see his perspective shift.
What really clinched it, though, was when we started talking about masculinity. He mentioned watching a documentary about male lions protecting their pride, contrasting them with cheetahs, who impregnate females and leave them to fend for themselves. “Guess who’s king of the jungle?” he asked. I responded, “Exactly. Men aren’t securing the perimeter when they let women fend for themselves exposed to politicians who are endangering them. Protecting women isn’t just about stopping some abstract predator — it’s about securing their most basic human right.”
In that moment, everything clicked for him. This wasn’t just a gender issue; it was the issue. He didn’t suddenly become a fan of Harris or Walz, but he realized he couldn’t vote any other way. It was too fundamental to ignore. His vote was no longer about politics — it became about his identity as a man. By voting for Trump, he would be failing in his most primal role as a protector.
This conversation reminded me of something important: Facts only go so far. It’s feelings that move people. Especially when talking to men, we need to challenge whether their vote matches their own self-perception of being a man. When men realize that Trump doesn’t represent the kind of masculinity they aspire to, it’s far more persuasive than throwing stats at them.
When I do this kind of work, I often face pushback, sometimes from women. For example, this week at a Harris rally in Georgia, I asked men to name one “manly” thing Trump has done, knowing that men who identify as very masculine are some of his strongest supporters. I know that emasculating Trump is an effective strategy for male voters. But the backlash came quickly, with some accusing me of reinforcing rigid definitions of manhood. But here’s the truth: I’ve never advocated for erasing masculinity. Instead, I support men embracing a healthier, more positive version of it. I don’t think men should shy away from wanting to be manly if their definition is a healthy one, and criticizing men like Trump who represent a negative version of it. When men themselves admit that Trump doesn’t represent the kind of masculinity they aspire to, that’s far more persuasive to the male voters we need than any other argument we could make.
That’s why I came up with the idea of targeting men with pro-Harris stickers which I’ve been strategically leaving at bars, basketball games and Home Depot — places where men frequent. My friend Janna Meyrowitz Turner (friend of Airplane Mode!) designed a whole website for it, and called the campaign Balls On The Line, where anyone can print and distribute the stickers in their home state. If you’re looking for something to do now, print them at your local Staples and start sticking! You could also hand them out to voters on the street for a great conversation starter!
The more we engage men in ways that honor a positive definition of masculinity, the better chance we have at maintaining a democracy instead of slipping into fascism. Men’s votes could very well be the deciding factor in this election, and we have to deploy every tool we can in these last few days. As Anand Giridharadas wrote in The Ink, “real men reject fascism.”
If it gives you any hope, I’ve actually been surprised by how persuadable many of the Trump-supporting men I meet are. They seem firm in their stance at first, but after some genuine conversation, I often see doubt creep in — and openness to a different decision. We can’t dismiss these men as deplorables. We have to try to connect.
Deep (or flirt!) canvassing recognizes that the most powerful political tool we have isn’t a fact sheet — it’s empathy. And as you head into these final days before the election, remember that the conversations you have, however small they seem, have the potential to shift someone’s world. So, get out there. Talk to people. Listen to them. Share your stories. And move those votes — one heart at a time.
Liz Plank is an award-winning journalist and international bestselling author. She hosts Synced, a podcast with Monica Padman and Dax Shepard, and the Man Enough podcast with Justin Baldoni and Jamey Heath, where they interview influential figures about their journey to manhood. Plank regularly appears on national and international television programs to provide a perspective on politics, gender issues, and reproductive rights, including The TODAY Show, The Daily Show, MSNBC, CNN, ABC News, Fusion, Al-Jazeera America, and BBC World.
This piece originally appeared in Liz Plank’s substack Airplane Mode, which you can subscribe to here.
