Hayden Cedric Dawes, PhD.
Researcher - Therapist - Speaker

reflections

Reflections—A Space for Inquiry

Reflections—A Space for Inquiry

This is where I share my thoughts —reflective, and always evolving. Here, you'll find musings on mental health, human rights, cultural humility, and the intersections of identity and well-being. Some posts will be deeply personal, others will be grounded in research, and a few might just be me offering some insights.

As a clinician, researcher, and educator, I believe in the power of inquiry. This space is an extension of that belief—a place to engage, challenge, and grow. Whether I’m exploring Radical Permission, breaking down the latest study, or just processing the world around me, I invite you to join in by commenting or sharing these musings. Let’s build understanding, ask hard questions, and maybe even laugh a little along the way.

All that I ask is that if one of these posts sparks something in you, please share it with one person.

May we all be well.

 

2025: Laying Bare the Wisdom of Elders

Whenever there’s a crisis—global or personal—my best friend, Elisa, and I call each other and yap as if it’s 2001. It’s like we’re still sophomores in high school, navigating our lives by processing our shocks, cackling at life’s absurdity, and our propensity for dramatics. All while doing our best to maintain a shred of inner groundedness – which is almost impossible for us two Libras, especially when we're together. 

In a year ripe with opportunity to fill our yap sessions with our keen, social-work-informed dissection of current events, we instead found ourselves primarily sharing the plot twists in our personal stories.

This summer, while sitting in a group of my elders, I asked them, “How come you never told me that there would be years when almost everything changes?” They replied with versions of, “If we had told you, you would not have believed us.” Of course, they’re right. If they had told me there’d be days like these, I’m sure I would have internally thought, “I don’t think I could have survived that,” or possibly even denied my own human fragility and inability to control most of everything, thinking, “I’m too good at life for that to happen to me.” 

While on the phone with Elisa, I said, “Girl, now I understand why the old people in the locker rooms in their 70s and 80s give no f*cks! They disrobe in the locker rooms, with sagging skin, wrinkles, and age spots, and let the entire room witness that they are still alive, and that life, with whatever crisis has come, has not taken them down, quite yet.” Their bare bodies are living symbols of surviving adversity, and after my 2025, I have the utmost respect for these everyday champions. I, too, have been laid bare, and I’m still standing.

On day I will pay it forward and bare my a$$ at the neighborhood gym; and should some young buck in their 20s turns their nose at me in disgust, I will sassily say with a crocked finger and neck wagging, “Baby, you have no idea what I’ve been through, and if you get to be as lucky as me to be alive at my age, you might understand, but until then, you don’t have the range to step to me like that!” The best elders know how to teach the young ones lovingly. 

The other thing Elisa and I talk about a lot is how we couldn’t understand when we were younger, that life’s simplest moments often offer the deepest riches and experiences. Now we know why the wisest of elders sit on the porch, watching the sun cast shadows on the trees, listening to the birds’ calls and responses, saying hello to neighbors and their little ones as they pass by, tracking that many of the little ones are no longer little. All the while, offering a loving gaze, encouraging word, or simple presence to the Great Unfolding—years of crisis and all, living with a graceful pride to be alive and part of it all.

Hayden Dawes