Wakime Hauser – Page 3 – 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
- January 30, 2023
Struggle

I owe 100% of my success to the struggle. Stop and think about everything you have. How,...
- Uncategorized
- March 27, 2024
Brown Paper Bag

Reflecting on childhood memories often brings to mind simpler times, like the excitement of packing a favorite lunchbox for school.,...

- Photograph
- March 12, 2024
Good Morning
BRICK by BRICK
- September 3, 2023

How America’s Past Disables Its Future

“Happy is a Nation with no history.” I read this quote the other day…

Birthday wish #52

A few weeks ago I proudly made it to age 52. Birthdays have always…

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…

Uber Encounters: Episode 1, A Ride with Daniel

Driving for Uber is like being on a reality show where every episode features…

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Uncategorized
April 3, 2023

I started writing poetry over 40 years ago. This is a poem I wrote in the late 1990’s. It was a song first. I revised it after reading the novel called “The skin I’m in” by Sharon G. Flake. This is a power spoken word piece! I do not know if it has the same depth if read with out proper tone, cadence and pitch??? Let me know! Born—The skin I am in My tone Far from ebony A throwback Red bone Green eyes Not a clone Completely separated From my home On my continent Impossible Sun blazing year round Too tropical Master raping Unstoppable So I am bronze Without the topical So I served in the house Not the field Cause my mother Had that sex appeal Married was my father, well my owner But for my mothers affection he didn’t yield So maybe I learned to read and write Generations later and my skin still can’t heal This Negro Whose hero Was changed and rearranged To deceive slaves And Blacks Like Greek myths His Story Is not the Real story Just oppression Great depression White Jesus Slave’s masters obsession Melting in the pot So hot Mixing can’t stop,...

Life Style
March 19, 2023

Back Yard Buddy

When my family moved to Greenwich CT in 1983, it was a culture shock to me. My entire life I had been called a white boy and now, for the first time, I wasn’t. In this new environment, I was vividly different. It wasn’t just the color of my skin. It was the core values that I was brought up with. In my opinion, I was raised to be tough outside of my home and submissive and obedient inside. I was trained to live a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde life. In Mount Vernon and the Bronx, NY, this lifestyle was accepted as normal because most of the kids I knew had similar expectations in and outside of their homes. Where I was coming from it was normal to see one of your friends get beaten in public. Greenwich was different, I mean REALLY different. For the first time in my life I saw kids talk back to their parents. They listened in school. However, they took their frustrations out on their parents. This was not true for everyone. However I had never seen a kid talk back to their parents when I moved to Greenwich. I mean I saw,...

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
February 12, 2024

Wooden Spoon

The humble wooden spoon, a utensil often underestimated yet possessing remarkable longevity if cared for properly. I’ve used the same wooden spoon in my kitchen for over five years, a testament to its resilience in a sea of discarded and broken counterparts. But beyond its culinary utility, the wooden spoon serves as a metaphor for the trajectory of wealth and mindset. In the hierarchy of spoons, the wooden spoon signifies a transition—a precarious balance between the single-use plastic spoon and the royal silver one. It symbolizes the legacy we leave behind, whether it be tangible assets like homes and businesses or intangible wealth such as wisdom and values. While some are born into privilege, wielding silver spoons from the start, many begin with humble beginnings, clutching plastic spoons that signify struggle and scarcity. Yet, the path to wooden spoon status lies not solely in inheritance but in mindset and determination. It’s about leveraging opportunities, making prudent choices, and transcending circumstances. Contrary to popular belief, true wealth isn’t merely measured by material possessions. It’s a mindset—a conscious decision to live within one’s means, invest wisely, and cultivate financial resilience. I’ve encountered individuals who, despite earning substantial incomes, live paycheck to paycheck,,...

Uncategorized
June 26, 2025

Men healing – Round 2

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 fertilize my curious seed, not only as an attendee, but this time, as a facilitator of a workshop. This year, I didn’t just come to participate. I came to pour in — leading a workshop and offering restorative healing Manhood Yoga to a room full of powerful men of color. These weren’t just strangers. These were familiar faces and new souls alike, brothers who greet with hugs, dap, and that shared understanding. That kind of quiet knowing that only comes when you’ve been through some things and grown because of it. The energy hits different when you walk into a space and see men you’re proud to stand beside. As I scanned the room, I smiled, because some of these incredible men will soon be guests on my podcast, Shades of a Man. That’s legacy in motion. That’s what happens when iron sharpens iron. One of the moments that filled me the most was reconnecting with Malik Champlain a leader and,...

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