Blog Style – 01 – Page 2 – 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
- June 3, 2024
Remembering my friend

Thank you. I know I never said that to you when I had the chance. Thank you for being my,...
- Life Style
- August 30, 2024
Men Matter

Growing up to this day I am faced with one consistent question. What is your nationality? I have been asked,...

- Life Style
- December 13, 2022
Read My Life
We are Divided
- September 18, 2023

Uncategorized

June 26, 2025

Letting go

For decades, I walked around carrying extra weight on my shoulders. This weight was…

PLAN A

Plan B. What does that really mean? Does it mean you’re not fully confident…

Walnut

&lt My grandmother’s house always puts a smile on my face. It was the…

Court house

Walking into the courthouse in 2025 took me way back, way back to a…

NO Child left behind!!

A few weeks ago, I had the honor of speaking as part of Professor…

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Life Style
January 13, 2023

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,...

Life Style
December 18, 2023

I am afraid

Imagine an open wound in the deepest part of your heart, without ever healing a dull rusty razor blade is pushed upward into the raw scar tissue. On occasion salt is sprinkled all over this organ like a southern meal. Then it is wrapped tightly in a cast as if it were a broken arm. Puss and fluid drip slowly and consistently. That heart is inside the king of the jungle, a LION with the mindset of an eagle and the saveness of a fox. Severely wounded and left in the wilderness to survive. DEAR LIFE, I AM AFRAID

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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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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

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,...

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