Arnold Best
It’s a narrative that has travelled far and wide, repeated so often it’s rarely questioned. It’s simple. Convenient. Easy to assign. But it’s also incomplete. Recently, while taking my book The Cheat Code on tour around the island, directly to the public, in spaces like coffee shops, and having conversations, I noticed something I didn’t expect. The majority of those stepping forward to purchase the book were men. That observation challenged the narrative: do men seek support to manage their own mental health?
Because what became clear is this: men are not loudly asking for help, but they are seeking it. They are searching for answers in ways that often go unnoticed. They don’t always announce their struggles. They don’t always articulate their confusion. Instead, they process internally, trying to make sense of themselves in private. There is a silence in how many men experience life. It’s not accidental; it’s learned.
From a young age, many men are conditioned to believe that vulnerability is weakness. That emotional expression should be controlled. That asking for help somehow diminishes their strength. So instead of speaking, they observe. Instead of expressing, they internalise. Instead of reaching outward, they turn inward. And in that inward space, they begin their search.
I remember one particular moment during the tour. While I was at the Starbucks in Arima, a man approached me with intention. He said he had come specifically to buy the book; he had seen the invitation on social media and made the decision to show up. So I asked him a simple question: What made you come? He told me he had been in a dark place in his life. Not completely lost, but not where he wanted to be. He said he was already on his way out of it, but he knew he needed something more. Something to help him understand what he was feeling and why he had been experiencing certain patterns.
When he heard about The Cheat Code, about understanding emotions, behaviours and patterns, he said it clicked for him. “This is what I need.” And at that moment, I saw it clearly: men are doing the work. Quietly. Intentionally. On their own terms. What I witnessed wasn’t avoidance. It was engagement, just in a form the world doesn’t always recognise. Men choose to understand themselves without needing an audience. Men confronting patterns privately before the world ever sees the result.
The Cheat Code became more than a book in those moments. It became a tool. A safe space. A way for men to examine their own behaviours, decisions and emotional patterns without the pressure of being judged. As we observed Men’s Mental Health Month in June, it presented an opportunity to shift the narrative, not by dismissing harmful behaviour, but by understanding what drives it and how it can evolve. Sometimes it looks like a man picking up a book instead of speaking up. Sometimes it looks like a quiet reflection instead of public confession. Sometimes it looks like questioning himself in silence, long before anyone else sees the shift.
To the men doing that work. Keep going. Keep questioning the patterns you carry. Keep exploring the emotions you were never taught to understand. Keep being curious about who you are beneath the conditioning. There is strength in that process. There is discipline in choosing awareness over avoidance. And there is nothing weak about a man who decides to understand himself. So no, this was never about men cheating on their partners, wives or girlfriends. What I witnessed was something far more powerful: men seeking answers. Men reaching for a tool that could help them understand themselves better.
Men quietly putting their hands on a book that could shift how they think, how they feel, and ultimately, how they show up in their lives. That’s what The Cheat Code became in those moments, not controversy, but clarity. Many are thinkers. Many are learners. Many are quietly doing the work to become better, on their own terms, in their own time. And that quiet work? That’s where real change begins.
