President Donald Trump is a sick man, literally. Nothing he can do will change that until his body recovers from COVID-19.

The reality show theatrics of his hospital stay and return to the White House cannot reverse his coronavirus diagnosis. A new video Wednesday in which he falsely claims one drug he took is a "cure" and describes his infection as "a blessing from God" will not rewrite history. Trump fell ill because he proudly refused to practice basic safety measures like mask-wearing and social distancing, putting American lives at risk through behavior and example.

Standing triumphantly at a White House balcony on Monday, while appearing to gasp for air, Trump became a living reminder that playing the strongman at a moment of intense and obvious vulnerability only magnifies one's insecurities instead of concealing them.

Of course, Trump and his supporters don't see it this way. They want you to imagine that he's beat the coronavirus into submission, that he has "God-tier genetics," that his plasma might be used for a vaccine to protect against COVID-19, thereby torturing every liberal who receives the shot.

These are the fever dreams of so-called toxic masculinity. This is what happens when men and women embrace the stereotype that men should dominate at all costs. The thrill of projecting strength becomes a perverse obsession. But when masculinity is stripped of traits like warmth, compassion, and wisdom, because they seem feminine or weak, it leaves men trapped with only fear.

With firsthand insight of what it's like to be a COVID-19 patient, Trump could've led with humility and empathy, inviting Americans to unite in their efforts to protect each other. Yet Trump is no shepherd or father figure. He lives to fight.

Gary Barker, president and CEO of Promundo, a nonprofit organization that advocates for gender equality, knows this pose well. The constraints of stereotypical masculinity, like being self-sufficient, acting tough, performing rigid gender roles, being heterosexual, and solving conflicts through aggression, create what Barker calls the man box.

"I continue to see the frightened guy behind facade," says Barker of Trump. "I wish he would break script once."

Indeed, the president is frequently desperate to appear manly, often doing so by pitting Americans against each other, insulting his opponents and agitating his supporters. In the video published Wednesday, he mostly avoided stoking partisan resentment but blamed China for the pandemic, insisting that the country would "pay a big price." In comments made earlier this week, Trump used his own experience with COVID-19 to imply that the virus can be overcome with enough strength and that being frightened of its consequences is foolish.

This is how a man acts when he fears appearing vulnerable, and the terror of the man box is the possibility that someone will find you out. They'll sense your weakness and punish you. Fox News host Tomi Lahren demonstrated the technique perfectly when she tried to taunt Democratic presidential candidate Joe Biden by tweeting that he might as well carry a purse with his mask. The man box has its enforcers, many of them women, who will use sexism, homophobia, body shaming, and violence, among other tactics, to uphold their idea of traditional masculinity.

The pressure to live up to these stereotypes has arguably made men more vulnerable to worse COVID-19 outcomes. Promundo found in a recent report that the death rate is higher for men, and norms like stoicism, toughness, and self-reliance mean men may be less likely to seek healthcare or practice measures like hand-washing and mask-wearing.

Yet the pandemic never needed to be about reinforcing stereotypical masculinity. When Dwayne Johnson (aka The Rock) contracted COVID-19, the movie star and former professional wrestler talked honestly about the importance of protecting his family, and how he felt like he failed by spending time with close friends who transmitted the virus to his wife and children.

Johnson may be an imperfect messenger given that he built a career by depicting macho men, but that's also the strength of his confession. Johnson spoke about discipline, honor, and duty. He wanted to help others avoid the same mistake, and urged them to care for "your fellow human beings." Of mask-wearing he said, "It has nothing to do with politics. Wear your mask."

There are clearly ways to express masculinity in this pandemic without channeling the need to dominate. The problem for Trump and his supporters is that the president has staked his identity and success on a relentless performance of masculinity, from which there is no escape without seeming like a loser. Those who love the president have similarly tethered their identities to that performance. He's a winner who wields masculinity as a weapon, and it's thrilling to be on his side.

One day, when he's exited the national stage, whether that's in January or in 2025, we'll finally have the opportunity to reckon with and move beyond the damage Trump's insecurity has wrought. Until then, Americans will live at the whim of a man with everything to prove — and everything to lose.