The Invisible Army of Men Becoming Kings

There’s a lot of noise online right now—hot takes, finger‑pointing, spirals of frustration—about the state of men, masculinity, and the absolute circus many women have had to endure. The rhetoric goes something like: Where are the good men? Where are the protectors? Why aren’t good men stepping up and knocking the toxic ones out of the way? Why aren’t men saving us from the men who are ruining everything?

And look—I get the impulse behind it. Women have been living through eras of neglect, harm, silence, dismissal, and spiritual starvation. We’re exhausted. We’re fed up. For some of us, our nervous systems are burnt out from a lifetime of handling abusive men, absent men, dishonest men, or simply men who refused to grow. Some of us have have died. So of course some women are asking—loudly, angrily—Where are the men who actually give a damn? Where are the masculine allies? Why aren’t they doing something?

But let me say something that might sting while also liberating you at the soul level:

It is not a man’s job to save women.

And the women who truly understand their own power don’t actually want that.

Because here’s the truth no one is talking about: while the loudest and most embarrassing men dominate the online stage—acting out, spiraling, weaponizing their wounds—there is a quiet army of masculine men you don’t see. You don’t hear them because they’re not online screaming. You don’t notice them because they’re not performing for attention. They are not part of the chaos.

These men have been sitting in the dark, doing the deep work, burning through their shadows, wrestling with themselves, surrendering to God, confronting every twisted part of their lineage, their trauma, their ego, their addictions, their fear of intimacy, their desire to run, their resistance to purpose. They have been humbled and purified by fire.

And they are waiting.

Waiting—not out of passivity, but out of spiritual discipline.

Waiting—not because they are scared of women, but because they refuse to settle for anything less than the queen God carved out of their ribs in the beginning.

Waiting—not for a damsel in distress, but for a woman who has saved herself.

These men aren’t invisible because they are weak. They are invisible because they have become selective, discerning, evolved, spiritually initiated. They don’t want chaos, immaturity, or feminine energy trapped in “little girl survival mode.” They want a woman who has been to hell and back and met God there. They want a woman who can stand beside them—not beneath them.

Some of these men look at us the way we look at them.

They believe in us.

They see the queen inside us even when we forget her.

They hold space, silently, energetically, faithfully—waiting for the moment we recognize that the real rescue mission begins the moment we finally close our eyes, take a breath, and turn inward.

Because the harsh truth is this:

We must save ourselves before we can meet the partner who meets us as equals.

Not “save ourselves” in the lonely, rugged, isolating way the world frames it—but save ourselves by returning to God, returning to truth, returning to our own soul. The divine union we crave doesn’t form from two wounded children reaching for each other in fear. It forms between two adults who did the work alone before they ever touched hands.

Close your eyes.

Breathe.

Drop into that place inside you that is older than trauma, older than longing, older than your wounds.

That is where everything begins.

That is where your king finds you.

And that is where you find yourself.

“Queen- The crown is not placed upon you by another. It emerges from the depths of your trials, the clarity of your spirit, and the faith that God walks with you.”