Knight In Shinning Armor: Bleeding Steel [ Men's Mental Health]

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Knight in Shining Armor: Bleeding Steel is a deeply personal and emotional work by Hope, written in response to the suicide of her father and other men in her community, aiming to break the silence around men’s mental health. Through seven fictional yet realistic stories, the book explores themes like male abuse, heartbreak, male rape, emotional suppression, and societal pressures that demand men be strong while denying them vulnerability. It challenges toxic masculinity and advocates for a more compassionate, open view of manhood. The book is both a tribute to her late father and a call to action for society to support men’s emotional well-being before it’s too late.

When I wrote Knight in Shining Armor: Bleeding Steel, I wasn’t simply stringing together stories. I was bleeding onto each page. I was pulling words from the hurting parts of my heart that had been too silent for too long. This book was birthed out of raw pain, pain that came from losing my father and several men in my community to suicide.

These weren’t just personal tragedies; they were wake-up calls about a larger, deadlier silence surrounding men’s mental health. Writing this book became both my therapy and my mission to fight back against the silence that is costing us our brothers, fathers, husbands, and sons. As I put pen to paper, I made a promise to myself: I would not sugarcoat. I would not whisper. I would write loudly and honestly about what I have seen and felt the way society raises men to be knights, dressed in shining armor, expected to save everyone else while they slowly die inside. My aim was simple but urgent: to give men permission to feel, to fall, to fail, and to heal without fear of being called weak or “not man enough.”

The title itself, Knight in Shining Armor: Bleeding Steel, carries the theory that men are viewed as masculine, macho, and indestructible perfect beings expected to carry the weight of the world without ever cracking. But my life experience has taught me that this armor is not impenetrable. As much as society wants to believe men are made of rock or steel, they feel, they fall, they hurt, and yes, they bleed emotionally just like anyone else.

The book unfolds through seven fictional but deeply real stories. Each one was crafted to shatter a dangerous myth about manhood.

In Loud Silence, I tell the story of a rich bachelor trapped in an abusive and toxic relationship. This narrative was especially important to me because society rarely admits that men can be victims too. We are quick to dismiss their pain, assuming that strength makes them immune to abuse. But in reality, the silence around male victimhood is deafening and it’s killing men from the inside out. Writing this story allowed me to scream on behalf of every man who has ever been told to “man up” while he was quietly dying inside.

The Preacher’s Kid sheds light on a different kind of pain—the unseen struggle of children raised in religious homes, particularly those of clergy. I have witnessed firsthand the immense pressure placed on preacher’s kids to be perfect. They are expected to be models of virtue, often at the expense of their own mental health. This story gave me the chance to humanize them, to show that behind the perfect Sunday smiles are real, raw emotions fighting to break free.

One of the hardest but most necessary stories for me to write was Unsung Melodies, which tackles the painful and rarely spoken issue of male rape. This subject makes people uncomfortable because it doesn’t fit our narrative of men as invulnerable. But it happens and the men who survive it carry complex, hidden scars. This story was my attempt to give voice to those who have been silenced, shamed, and ignored for too long. It was painful to write, but it was even more painful to think about the millions of men suffering in silence.

Guards Up addresses heartbreak a topic we often minimize when it comes to men. Society expects them to “move on” without grieving, to act as though emotional pain is beneath them. But heartbreak cuts deep, and its long-term effects can shape a man’s entire life. In this story, I wanted to validate pain and dismantle the toxic belief that men don’t feel deeply when relationships fail.

With The Clergy Don’t Crack, I turned the spotlight on men in spiritual leadership. We often assume clergy are morally and emotionally flawless, but they too struggle under the weight of impossible expectations. This story was my way of saying even spiritual leaders feel pressure, even they hurt, and even they need support. It’s a reminder that no one, no matter how elevated is immune to mental health challenges.

Death Within the Walls is a reflection of the collective grief we all experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic. But I chose to focus specifically on how men were expected to hold families together while silently bearing their own pain. This story is a tribute to the unspoken grief that unfolded behind closed doors and the emotional toll that many men are still carrying today.

Lastly, Dinner for Two with the Chez Ntemba Demoness tells the story of a politician trapped in a toxic marriage. It’s a critique of societal pressures that push men to marry for status rather than love, often leading to emotional ruin. This narrative allowed me to explore the hidden struggles of men in power those who appear successful on the outside but are emotionally broken within.

Beyond the stories, I felt it was important to include discussions on critical issues affecting men today. I tackled topics like toxic masculinity, which teaches men to suppress vulnerability until it destroys them. I wrote about the hidden horrors young men face in university and college pressures that no one warns them about but that can shatter their mental health.

In Money or Nothing, I addressed the cruel economic expectations placed on men, making them feel worthless if they aren’t financially successful. This message is one I’ve seen break men in my own community, and it was time to call it out. And in the section on Daddy Issues, I confronted the deep wounds caused by absent or abusive fathers wounds that ripple through generations. As I wrote, I kept coming back to one painful truth: we are failing our men. We cheer them on when they save others but shame them when they need saving. We applaud their strength but mock their vulnerability.

My book is my rebellion against this hypocrisy. It’s my way of giving men back their full humanity the right to feel, to break, to cry, and to seek help without fear. The process of writing Knight in Shining Armor: Bleeding Steel was both healing and heartbreaking. I had to confront my own biases about masculinity. I had to grieve, again and again, the men I’ve lost. And I had to commit myself, fully and painfully, to advocating for those still struggling in silence. Every story in this book carries pieces of real people I’ve known, real stories I’ve heard, and real pain I’ve witnessed. And every word was written with the hope that it might save someone that a man somewhere might read it and feel less alone, less ashamed, less trapped.

This book is more than a collection of narratives it’s a movement. It’s a call to action for families, communities, educators, policymakers, and health professionals. We cannot continue to demand strength from men while denying them the spaces to express weakness. We cannot keep telling them to be rocks while ignoring the fact that even rocks erode under pressure. As I reflect on this journey, I realize that Knight in Shining Armor: Bleeding Steel is not just for men. It’s for women too for mothers raising sons, for partners loving men, for sisters, friends, and colleagues. We all have a role to play in dismantling the toxic narratives that keep men chained in silence and shame.

If there is one message I hope readers take away from my book, it’s this: men, like everyone else, deserve to be whole not just strong, but also soft; not just protectors, but also protected; not just providers, but also recipients of care. They deserve to bleed without apology and to heal without stigma. As I continue my advocacy for mental health, particularly for men, I hope this book will open doors doors that lead men out of the dark caves of silence and into spaces where they can breathe, feel, and live fully.

My dream is that one day, society will no longer see vulnerability as a threat to manhood but as a vital part of it. Because at the end of the day, even knights in shining armor bleed. And acknowledging that, is not a weakness it’s the first step toward true healing. As I wrote each section, I found myself grieving not only for my father but for every man who ever felt too ashamed to ask for help. My father, like the knights described in the title, wore his armor every day until it became his prison.

He was rock, steel, and saviour to everyone but himself. And when life’s battles grew too heavy, he fell but the world only noticed when it was too late. This book gave me permission to finally confront that pain. To acknowledge that my father’s death wasn’t just a personal loss but a societal failure a consequence of the silent epidemic of unspoken male suffering. So, as I close this review, I feel compelled to include a letter a letter I wish I had written to my father before it was too late. It feels right to share it here, as part of my reflection on this transformative book.

Dear Dad, It’s hard to believe how many years have passed, and yet, every time I close my eyes, the pain feels fresh, like a wound that refuses to heal. Losing you wasn’t just the end of your life it shattered pieces of mine too. Pieces I’m still trying to gather. Pieces I poured into every word of this review. Dad, Knight in Shining Armor: Bleeding Steel was born because of you. Because I never got the chance to tell you that it was okay to break. That it was okay to cry. That you didn’t have to carry the world on your shoulders while your own heart was bleeding. I wrote every page with your face in my mind and your silence echoing in my ears.

I wish I could turn back time and tell you that you didn’t have to be the unbreakable man society demanded. You could have been human fragile, vulnerable, and still worthy of love. I look around now, and I see so many men walking the same lonely road you did. Pretending to be strong while silently falling apart. And every time I see them, I see you. That’s why I had to write this book. To speak the words I couldn’t say to you in time. To give other sons and daughters the chance to save their fathers, brothers, and husbands before it’s too late. You taught me strength, but losing you taught me the importance of softness the softness we deny our men until they die from the weight of suppressed pain. I hope this book reaches every man who feels trapped behind his shining armor. I hope it reaches every woman raising a son to remind her that even boys need space to cry. And I hope, wherever you are, you can feel the love and the fight I’ve poured into every chapter.

Dad, I wish I could have saved you. I wish I had the words then that I have now. But if this book can save even one man from walking the same path you did, then maybe, just maybe, your death wouldn’t have been in vain. I miss you every day. And I love you not for the unbreakable man you tried to be, but for the beautiful, imperfect human you really were.

Your daughter,
Hope.