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    • November 5, 2023

    Public Schools

    I have been a teacher for over 22 years. I have dedicated 18 of those years to public education. My,...
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    • May 8, 2023

    HAM AVE

    About a decade ago while visiting my older sister in Greenwich Ct, I took her daughter to the basketball court,...
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Wakime Hauser's Blog

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Men healing – Round 2

Wakime HauserJune 26, 20253,906 Leave a comment

After last year’s unforgettable experience in Vermont for the first-ever Men’s Health Retreat, I knew this second gathering would be something special. But what I didn’t anticipate was how much deeper it would take root in my soil and…

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Books Fashion Life Style Life Style Photograph

Shades of a Man (Podcast)

For those who’ve been following my journey, reading my blogs, sharing my words, reflecting…

Wakime Hauser May 30, 2025
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Growth takes time!

I wasn’t always the man I am today. In fact, for a long time,…

Wakime Hauser May 14, 2025
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Men’s deserve to heal

It was a cold, rainy Saturday morning, and my schedule was already stacked. But…

Wakime Hauser April 25, 2025
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50 years deep!

I was driving Uber the other day, heading from Avon down to Foxwoods Casino.…

Wakime Hauser April 10, 2025
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  • Books
  • February 6, 2024

The Plastic Spoon!

I know all about being born with a plastic spoon. A plastic spoon might be found in the trash because it’s meant for one-time use only. Being born with a plastic spoon means one starts life at the bottom. One may have hard working parents who serve as good role models and provide what’s needed. However, when they pass away, they may not leave behind much except debt. Saying I was born with a plastic spoon isn’t a knock on my parents; it’s just the truth. I was born poor, with parents who were socially and economically uneducated. The likelihood of me graduating from college and earning a degree was extremely low. Yet, I earned a master’s degree and beyond, defining what hard work and determination are. My plastic spoon was fortunately handed to me in the 70s, before cell phones and computers became common items. I didn’t even realize I was poor or different until I moved to Greenwich, CT, from the Bronx in 5th grade. Being light-skinned in Mount Vernon and the Bronx, NY, led to me being called a ‘white boy.’ There was no such judgment when I moved to Greenwich; I was clearly black and clearly,...
  • Life Style
  • August 13, 2023

Growing old with Hip Hop

I wrote this piece back in 2013, and in light of hip hop’s 50th anniversary celebration this weekend, I believe this poem resonates fittingly. Enjoy! Born with this music Hip hop Fatherless soul Hip hop was my guide It showed me the breaks Which I lived Auditory No videos and magazines Well, there was……. Underground Suppressed like the segregated south Trying to gain musical civil rights Breakthrough Run DMC Elementary Rhymes Which to this day, are parts of me Still there was no money I learned the meaning of philosophy Through BDP When dancing earned respect And DJ’s didn’t yell there names Promoting themselves the whole night Stopping the violence Was a mission Fashion was…. Gold Suede Leather Bombers Sheep skins And FOR REAL Most of us fought Hand to hand As I age Hip hop I still breathe I lived through the changes Its common sense I think I love her Well??? It’s a love hate thing Cause I love the music But I hate the game Sex and violence Yeah Kris knew it The art form is gone Hip hop Now has the root of all evil It all about the Benjamin’s And the Benz The ice The,...
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  • June 18, 2023

Family (The kitchen table)

Listening to my grandfather’s captivating stories, I found myself yearning to experience the vivid world of his childhood. It was an era influenced by the KKK and the challenging lifestyle of sharecropping, yet my grandfather’s stories also incorporated the wonders of television and technological gadgets from the 70s, 80s, and 90s—elements he himself lived without. As a child, one of the most enlightening questions I asked him was about the impact of the Great Depression on his life. His response was simple: he didn’t realize there was an economic crisis at the time. While money held some importance, his family valued land and livestock even more. He explained that they could go days, even weeks, without spending any money. Survival meant planting and slaughtering their own food, cutting down trees for heating and cooking, and not even contemplating the luxury of air conditioning. Money was reserved for purchasing fabric, tools, and other essentials for their daily lives. My grandfather had only completed eighth grade, yet he was the most intelligent person I had ever spent time with, surpassing even my own academic achievements as I pursued my dissertation to become Dr. Hauser. Family was the cornerstone of his life—a value,...
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  • January 8, 2025

Lost and Found: A Wallet, A Cop, and A Lesson in Kindness

It was a typical December Monday night, and my younger cousin and I had decided to catch Taka at the Parkade Movie Theater in Manchester, Connecticut. The film was incredible—AI has gotten so good, I half expected Simba to leap off the screen and grab my popcorn. Speaking of popcorn, I devoured two large bags (yes, two) and chased them down with water I smuggled in like a seasoned pro. I’m sorry, but I’m not paying $5 for a bottle of water worth a quarter. The movie ended, and we made our way to the car. That’s when I realized something was off—my wallet wasn’t in my pocket. Panic set in. We rushed back inside, retraced every step, and even dove headfirst into the garbage cans like we were on a scavenger hunt for the world’s most important treasure. The theater staff were helpful, but no luck. I was convinced someone had found the wallet, pocketed the cash, and dumped the rest. My cousin and I scoured the parking lot with our phone flashlights, peeking into every crevice, garbage can, and even the dumpster. Nothing. I resigned myself to the headache of canceling credit cards, replacing my boating license, and,...
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  • October 12, 2024

Demonic Cupid

Her contact was felt with friction Sandpaper rubbing my chest Scraping off my dead skin Grinding on my rib cage The debris falling like the collapse 0n 9/11 Making my foundation weak So I Fall She’s sly, every movement is art Vivid in detail Captivating spectators Burning torch Olympic summer Throwing javelins through my heart Slicing my legs and arms Decapitating my head Whole man cut up Wrapping me in plastic And Freezing me Then Thawing me Using tree branches and two by fours To hang me Shish kabobs   Dangling from the fire Rotisserie Fully seasoned my mental Making me submissive to her desires Claiming her honesty With mystery For I was a delicacy Chewed on and swallowed Washed down with grey goose Digested and dropped in the toilet Flushed away Treated me like what I feel like SHIT By Wakime Sharri Hauser
Recent Posts
  • Men healing – Round 2

    • June 26, 2025
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    Shades of a Man (Podcast)

    • May 30, 2025
  • Growth takes time!

    • May 14, 2025
  • Men’s deserve to heal

    • April 25, 2025
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