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    • December 11, 2023

    BLACK numbers MATTER!

    Just another night in Vegas at the roulette table—talking, laughing, and enjoying the company of people from various places. Although,...
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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,...
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    • August 5, 2024

    Imagine this!!!!

  • Walnut

    • March 5, 2025
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Wakime Hauser's Blog

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PLAN A

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

Wakime Hauser March 11, 2025
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Walnut

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

Wakime Hauser March 5, 2025
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Court house

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

Wakime Hauser February 26, 2025
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NO Child left behind!!

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

Wakime Hauser February 20, 2025
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  • Uncategorized
  • February 26, 2023

4th Street Projects: 5H

5 H was the place! It was my favorite place to be for many reasons. Mainly because it was pretty much the meeting place for all my cousins. It also was the place where my grandmother lived Mount Vernon was the City, New York was the State, and the 4th street projects was the domain. I felt the safest at my grandmother’s house in the projects. I lived in many places in my life with low crime. Although the projects could be dangerous, I felt safe at all times. I attribute that to my grandmother. I had many fights, but everyday life prepared me for those fights, so they were rarely faced with fear. I mean I fought because I was afraid, but I didn’t fear fighting. I feared being hurt. I feared my Parents, Grandparents, Aunts and Uncles, NOT my peers. I didn’t like fighting and I believe I cried during every fight I ever had! My grandmother was the nicest, meanest woman you ever could meet. Her nickname was “mad dog”. It is common for everyone in the projects to have a nickname and mad dog fit her perfectly. She was sweet until you provoked her. Then Lucifer,...
  • Life Style
  • December 11, 2023

BLACK numbers MATTER!

Just another night in Vegas at the roulette table—talking, laughing, and enjoying the company of people from various places. Although I wasn’t hitting jackpot-sized wins, I was doing well. A group of men, dressed in jeans, boots, and cowboy hats, joined our game, seemingly in town for the Nations Rodeo finals. Despite my urban appearance, my love for country music and lifestyle is genuine. As they boisterously joined, the once-relaxed vibe at the table became awkward. Playing odd/even and red/black, one of them loudly declared, “Let’s go black!” followed by a questionable remark about “black numbers matter,” eliciting uncomfortable silence. I chose not to escalate the situation; after all, I wasn’t in Vegas for conflict. The table remained quiet until they left. I refused to let the incident ruin my night, choosing to focus on the positive. Reflecting the next morning, it struck me how rare it is for me to be offended by racial comments. While I’ve not supported movements like BLM, I found these men’s remarks out of line. It made me realize the prevalence of hate in the world. Acknowledging my own past lapses in sensitivity, I hope this experience prompts greater awareness of my words. We,...
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  • 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,...
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  • February 1, 2024

The symbolic meaning of Spoons

What’s Your Symbolic Spoon? 🥄 Spoons as Symbols in Life 🥄 Pause for a moment and ponder: What do spoons symbolize to you? To me, a spoon is more than just a utensil—it’s a vessel that cradles the most elusive of elements, liquids. In this captivating four-part series, we’re diving deep into the metaphorical world of spoons to explore their symbolism in our lives. Forget the practical uses; we’re delving into what spoons represent in the context of families. Intrigued? Join us on this thought-provoking journey! Blog 2: “The Plastic Spoon: Navigating Life in the Poor Class” 💔 Life with a Plastic Spoon 💔 Embark with us on a poignant exploration of the first spoon in our series: the plastic spoon. Symbolizing the challenges faced by the poor class, this blog unpacks the effects of being born into a family wielding a plastic spoon. From economic hardships to resilience, we’ll delve into the unique experiences that shape lives. Brace yourself for an eye-opening revelation as we navigate the complexities of life in the shadows of financial struggle. Blog 3: “The Wooden Spoon: Navigating the Terrain of the Middle Class” 🌳 Life with a Wooden Spoon 🌳 In the heart of,...
  • Life Style
  • September 1, 2024

Danger- is an educated black man!

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “I fear I am integrating my people into a burning house.” This quote has echoed through my mind as I reflect on the realities of being an educated Black man in America. It is not simply a matter of success or personal achievement; it’s a dangerous journey that forces us to navigate a society designed to keep us in a state of submission. Education, for many, is seen as the great equalizer—a path to better opportunities and a chance to break free from the chains of poverty. However, for the educated Black man, it often feels more like a weapon used against us, revealing uncomfortable truths about our society and exposing the systemic structures that threaten our existence. Education gives us the power to see beyond the surface, to recognize the lies and manipulation perpetuated by the government. As an educated Black man, you begin to see through the glossy veneer of American politics, realizing that promises of freedom, equality, and opportunity are often hollow. You learn that the system was never designed to serve people who look like us. We are taught to believe that our country is a land of endless,...
Recent Posts
  • Men healing – Round 2

    • June 26, 2025
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    Shades of a Man (Podcast)

    • May 30, 2025
  • Growth takes time!

    • May 14, 2025
  • Men’s deserve to heal

    • April 25, 2025
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