Blog Style – 01 – Page 21 – 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 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,...
- Books, Fashion, Life Style, Life Style, Photograph
- May 30, 2025
Shades of a Man (Podcast)

For those who’ve been following my journey, reading my blogs, sharing my words, reflecting with me—I want to say thank,...

- Life Style
- December 11, 2023
BLACK numbers MATTER!
Start, Struggle, Survive and Succeed
- December 20, 2022

Uncategorized

June 26, 2025

Opportunities in the air!

While taking a flight to Daytona beach Florida for a weekend getaway with two…

The skin I am in!

I started writing poetry over 40 years ago. This is a poem I wrote…

Half a Mint

I had to be about 20, maybe 21 years old. I don’t remember the…

Back Yard Buddy

When my family moved to Greenwich CT in 1983, it was a culture shock…

Your character is naked!

As I argued with my best man (Brandon, my oldest son), I was reminded…

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Uncategorized
June 24, 2024

Empowerment in Vermont: My Transformative Weekend with 25 Powerful Men of Color

Have you ever been surrounded by 20 or more men who made you feel empowered and valuable? I have! This past weekend, I attended a men’s wellness retreat in Vermont with 25 powerful men of color. The ages and stories were amazing, tragic, resilient, and worthy of absorbing. There were multiple moments during this retreat where I encountered joy so overwhelming it brought tears of happiness to my cheeks. Every person I spoke to was as clear as my aunt’s glass windows. There were no signs of masks or hidden agendas. I am not exaggerating when I say everyone I encountered was fully open and engaged. As a man of color, it is unfortunate that we do not feel this way among each other more frequently. If I could use a word to describe what every man felt around each other, I would use “safe” or “secure.” The goal of this weekend getaway was to rest, recover, and be our true selves. What was expected and what took place were totally different. I watched men open up about what they were going through and how they were dealing with it. The masks of everyday life were removed. It was group,...

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March 5, 2025

Walnut

&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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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. For me, it was a toss-up between my Superman and Hulk lunchboxes – iconic symbols of my youthful enthusiasm. Do you recall your cherished lunch containers? The tradition of packing lunches might seem like a relic from the past, especially in today’s fast-paced world. Yet, I can still vividly recall the care my mother took in preparing my midday meal. Deli sandwiches were a staple, adorned with a choice of condiments – mustard for liverwurst, ham, and bologna, and mayo for roast beef and turkey. However, nothing could surpass the timeless appeal of a classic peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The jelly flavor was inconsequential; it was the creamy peanut butter that always won my heart. When a warm meal was on the cards, my mother’s ingenious solution was Campbell’s chicken noodle soup or Chef Boyardee, packed snugly in an insulated canister to keep it piping hot until lunchtime. While my school offered hot lunches every Friday – a treat I reserved for occasions like meatball grinders or pizza – I mostly stuck to the home-packed goodness. Trading snacks with,...

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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,...

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February 3, 2025

How America’s Past Disables Its Future

“Happy is a Nation with no history.” I read this quote the other day and it has stuck to me like velcro. But America is not that country. Our history is long, complicated, and full of contradictions. We are a nation built on bold ideals—freedom, justice, and opportunity—yet our foundation is cracked by conquest, oppression, and division. And now, in an era where information is limitless, we are trapped by our past more than ever. I know the power of history because I’ve lived it. My past is full of struggles, pain, and hard times. But it was those struggles that shaped me, that built my resilience, that made me the man I am today. I don’t run from my past—I learn from it, I grow from it, and I refuse to let it define my future. Yet, in America, we do the opposite. We are stuck in a loop of guilt, blame, and division, constantly trying to rewrite, erase, or weaponize history. We cannot escape the conquering of Native Americans, the stain of slavery, the era of Jim Crow, or the impact of wars that have left scars on the world. These are facts, and they should be remembered.,...

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