Wakime Hauser – Page 12 – Wakime Hauser's Blog

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

- Uncategorized
- July 30, 2024
Trust without truth

When I was an emotional and somewhat naïve undergraduate student, I wrote a paper on police brutality and excessive force.,...
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- May 15, 2023
GITTY

This Friday I will be attending my aunt Bertha’s, also known as “Gitty” funeral. It will have passed by the,...

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- May 8, 2023
HAM AVE
LUST
- October 22, 2023

Wooden Spoon

The humble wooden spoon, a utensil often underestimated yet possessing remarkable longevity if cared…

The Plastic Spoon!

I know all about being born with a plastic spoon. A plastic spoon might…

The symbolic meaning of Spoons

What’s Your Symbolic Spoon? 🥄 Spoons as Symbols in Life 🥄 Pause for a…

Failed Starts

The notion of New Year, Monday, next month, or after my birthday often serves…

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Uncategorized
March 5, 2025

&lt My grandmother’s house always puts a smile on my face. It was the most beautiful apartment in the world to me as a child, even though it was tucked inside the roughest projects in Mount Vernon, New York. Five towering ten-story brick buildings, stacked side by side, looming over a few tight acres of land. Off-street parking. A handful of basketball courts where the nets rarely lasted, and a playground that saw more fights than laughter some days. Outsiders feared these projects. They whispered about them like a forbidden place, a war zone. But for me, it was home. My second home. And I was never afraid. My grandmother’s apartment was a two-bedroom fortress with more locks than the U.S. Treasury. The sound of her unlocking the door was a ritual—a metallic symphony of bolts sliding, deadlocks clicking, chains rattling. And before you ever stepped inside, she cracked the door open just enough to peer through the chain, scanning to make sure you weren’t bringing unexpected company. That was normal to me. So normal that I never thought twice about it until I moved out of the city and realized not everyone lived behind layers of steel and suspicion.,...

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June 5, 2023

Men Matter

Growing up to this day I am faced with one consistent question. What is your nationality? I have been asked if I was Jamaican, Dominican, Mixed black and white, Puerto Rican and mixed Puerto Rican and black to name a few. I was always told that I was black. I believed this most of my young life. I recall in 5th or 6th grade doing a family tree. My father directed me to my grandfather and he gave me a history dating back to the early 1800’s. This information was accompanied with stories. I really felt like I knew my fathers side of the family. As a child we had family reunions and I would meet relatives from all over the United States. My great aunt’s and uncles would display so much pride in their heritage. My Grandfather was from the south and experienced racism in a different way then I did as a kid and adult. He was not fond of white folk, but always informed me that my family had white blood. It was not very clear to me the source of the white blood but I understood it as a woman had kids and may have even,...

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April 10, 2025

50 years deep!

I was driving Uber the other day, heading from Avon down to Foxwoods Casino. Long ride, but it was a Saturday and I had time. The couple I picked up had a story to tell. They were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. Yeah, 50 years. That number hit me. I’m 52. They have been together since I was two years old. That kind of longevity makes you think. The wife was a retired teacher, sharp as ever. We got to talking—about education, politics, relationships, and respect. She said something that stuck: “Education doesn’t just shape minds—it shapes how we vote, how we see the world, how we treat each other.” And she wasn’t wrong. We both agreed that somewhere along the way, hard work stopped being the norm, and excuses became the language of the day. We laughed about how different dating was back then. She told me how a boy had to call a girl’s house and ask her parents if he could talk to her. Not text her, not DM her. You had to face the family first. I told her I never even talked to a girl I didn’t like until I got to college. Before then,,...

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May 8, 2024

Graduation 🧑‍🎓

This weekend, I had the honor of attending my niece’s graduation from Coastal Carolina University. As I sat among the sea of caps and gowns, witnessing the hopeful faces of tomorrow, I couldn’t help but reminisce about my own college graduation back in the halcyon days of 1997. Graduation day had stirred within me a whirlwind of emotions; I was filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation as I faced the looming prospect of adulthood. Reflecting on my collegiate journey, I realized that I hadn’t been the quintessential college student. With a modest GPA of 2.2, I often wondered how I managed to cross the finish line. Yet, here I was, a testament to the 30% of individuals who had earned a college degree. Surveying the room, I pondered how many of my fellow graduates shared a similar path. As the ceremony unfolded, I couldn’t shake the feeling of empathy for these fresh-faced graduates. For many of them, college had been a sanctuary—a bubble shielding them from the harsh realities of the world beyond campus gates. While some undoubtedly faced significant challenges and sacrifices during their academic journey, for the majority, college was a time of leisure, socializing, and,...

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March 27, 2023

Half a Mint

I had to be about 20, maybe 21 years old. I don’t remember the exact year or day. I believe it was the summer of 1993. I was pushing a red 1988 Mustang LX. It was the worst car I ever had. It was a candy apple red, had factory rims, and a kicker box in the back seat. I would put it in the trunk when I picked up my friends. The system sounded muffled when I did so. I had a portable CD player that I would use through the tape deck with a cassette adapter. It would skip everytime I hit a bump. I just started smoking weed on a daily basis and my dreams of being a professional basketball player shifted to becoming a rapper. I was drinking and driving, smoking and driving, living to get high, drunk and laid. Does this sound familiar to you and your post high school days? I worked at a summer camp where all of the camp counselors were doing the same. We would work all day playing and working with kids from ages 6-14, then go play ball, eat, and find a place to hang out all night partying.,...

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