Wakime Hauser's Blog

Men healing – Round 2

Wakime HauserJune 26, 20255,362 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…

Shades of a Man (Podcast)

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

Growth takes time!

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

Men’s deserve to heal

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

50 years deep!

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

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Life Style
December 11, 2023

BLACK numbers MATTER!

Just another night in Vegas at the roulette table—talking, laughing, and enjoying the company of people from various places. Although I wasn’t hitting jackpot-sized wins, I was doing well. A group of men, dressed in jeans, boots, and cowboy hats, joined our game, seemingly in town for the Nations Rodeo finals. Despite my urban appearance, my love for country music and lifestyle is genuine. As they boisterously joined, the once-relaxed vibe at the table became awkward. Playing odd/even and red/black, one of them loudly declared, “Let’s go black!” followed by a questionable remark about “black numbers matter,” eliciting uncomfortable silence. I chose not to escalate the situation; after all, I wasn’t in Vegas for conflict. The table remained quiet until they left. I refused to let the incident ruin my night, choosing to focus on the positive. Reflecting the next morning, it struck me how rare it is for me to be offended by racial comments. While I’ve not supported movements like BLM, I found these men’s remarks out of line. It made me realize the prevalence of hate in the world. Acknowledging my own past lapses in sensitivity, I hope this experience prompts greater awareness of my words. We,...

Uncategorized
February 6, 2023

The luck of the Irish ☘️ or NOT 3/17/1998

On Saint Patrick’s day of 1998, my first born son was born. At least that is what I THOUGHT. During labor, I was kicked out of the room because I was watching the Georgetown Hoyas Basketball game the night prior when my son’s mother began to have contractions. It was the NIT and they lost to Georgia Tech, I believe. I was given the gift of a healthy baby boy. I cried for two reasons: 1) I was a father 2) I was scared to death. I had started a full time job 3 months prior and was dealing with a paternity case at the same time, as If that was not enough. I was out of control mentally and, in my opinion, my son’s mother was not much better. Before he was even born, the arguments were out of control and I was headed for a domestic case. That eventually happened and to be honest, I could and should have been arrested more times than I was. I was too weak to leave and had such a large ego that I couldn’t allow someone to disrespect me. I do not know how I survived this relationship without doing some,...

Life Style
August 12, 2024

Racist or Not?

When I moved to Greenwich, Connecticut, from the Bronx, New York, in the early to mid-80s, the world was vastly different. I listened to music on a record player and cassette deck, wrote letters to friends outside of my local calling area, and adhered to the belief that children should be seen and not heard, at least in my family’s eyes. I rarely interacted with people who were not Black or Hispanic, unless it was at school or in a store. Greenwich was unlike any other place I had been. Fortunately, I lived near one of the three projects in Greenwich, in a predominantly Italian neighborhood. Interestingly, I recently discovered that I have a significant amount of Italian ancestry in my DNA. I still remember the trepidation I felt on my first day exploring the neighborhood. I started school in the fifth grade and immediately felt like an outcast. The cultural differences were challenging, and children can be cruel. I got into several fights within the first few months and shut down academically. The situation was further complicated by my parents’ separation during this transition. I was deemed not ready for fifth grade and was held back to the fourth,...

Uncategorized
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,...

Uncategorized
December 19, 2024

Christmas Reflection

Christmas has been many things to me over the course of my life, each chapter defined by where I was, who I was, and what I believed. It’s not just a holiday—it’s a mirror reflecting the seasons of my soul. As a child in a Lutheran school, Christmas was pure, untouchable, holy. It was about Christ in the manger, the shepherds guided by the star, and the profound meaning of a Savior’s birth. I remember the hymns, the Nativity plays, the sermons that made the story of Jesus come alive. It wasn’t about gifts—it was about grace, about the miracle of light piercing through darkness. Back then, my Christmases felt like an unbroken connection to something bigger than myself. I sang joy to the world at a catholic church this past weekend and it bought back so many memories. That connection faded when I transitioned to public school in the fifth grade. Suddenly, Christmas became about getting the gifts—the thrill of unwrapping boxes stacked under the tree, the joy of waking up early and tearing through wrapping paper like there was treasure hidden inside. I won’t lie; there was magic in that, too. But it was a different magic, one,...

Men healing – Round 2
- June 26, 2025
2
Shades of a Man (Podcast)
- May 30, 2025
Growth takes time!
- May 14, 2025
Men’s deserve to heal
- April 25, 2025

Men healing – Round 2