Wakime Hauser – Page 22 – 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

- 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,...
- Uncategorized
- March 31, 2025
Letting go

For decades, I walked around carrying extra weight on my shoulders. This weight was added day by day. I became,...

- Life Style
- March 5, 2023
2023 will be great because…
MAKE or BREAK
- May 1, 2023

4th Street Projects: 5H

5 H was the place! It was my favorite place to be for many…

Life and Death

The one thing that is guaranteed in life, is death. This week I lost…

How we became…

I was lucky, we had something in common. The first time you meet someone…

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…

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Life Style
January 13, 2023

Do you bowl? I do and it has been a blessing to start bowling again. I bowled here and there with my mother when I was a child. She was an avid bowler and bowled since I could remember. When I was a young man, she gave me her bowling ball. So, I used it every time I went bowling. My mother and I have had a rocky relationship since I was a teenager. I know she loved me and did the best she could with what she had. However, I always expected and wanted more until I did my own reflecting. Several years ago, I lost that bowling ball and not too long after it destroyed my mother and I’s relationship. I did that often so I did not have to face my fears of being hurt again. When I was writing my book, I called my mother crying and she was there for me like she always had been. We think differently, we love differently, and still, I love the hell out of her. I have realized through our relationship that the best love is the free love. Not free in cost but free in the open sense. ,...

Uncategorized
February 21, 2024

Silver Spoon!

In the realm of societal unbalance, there exists a phrase that reverberates with both envy and disdain: “born with a silver spoon.” It explains the notion of being born into immense wealth, shielded from the adversities that plague the majority of humanity. As I reflect on this concept, I am reminded of the stark realities of economic inequality that persist in our world. In my capacity as a black teacher and gym owner, I witness firsthand the disparities that exist and the systemic barriers that obstruct the path to prosperity for many including myself. Less than 2% of the population will never have to worry about money. These individuals were born with a silver spoon. This status is for life. Unlike a plastic spoon, a person born with a silver spoon will always have a silver spoon. It doesn’t matter what happens in their life; they will always be rich. The metaphor of the silver spoon speaks to the perpetuation of privilege across generations. It symbolizes not just material wealth, but also access to opportunities, networks, and resources that reinforce and amplify that wealth. For those born into affluent families, success often seems preordained, a birthright rather than an achievement.,...

Uncategorized
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,...

Books, Fashion, Life Style, Life Style, Uncategorized
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,...

Life Style
January 13, 2023

Bumpsy

Bumpsy, that is his name. Who is that? The man who showed me everything in life that I shouldn’t be, yet I wanted to become. The man who hurt me over and over again. The man who my sisters called Bumpsy. Bumpsy is/was my father. In the Winter of 2021, I forgave my dad and accepted his role in my life. He is the man who my sister and all his friends (none to date I trust) call Bumpsy. I could never call him that. I called him dad because that is who I wanted him too always be. It was not to the age of 41 that I realized what a father was. That is when I began a relationship with my first-born son. His presence forced me to be a father figure. It was not hard, I just told him the truth, good, bad and or neutral. At the age of 49 I am finally confident enough to be a good father. I am also smart enough not to try to make up for my prior shortcomings as a father in the past. I am here for my children now. I don’t baby them and I do not,...

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