Four Inane Questions with The UNBecoming’s Kasim Hardaway
Photo Courtesy of Kasim Hardaway
Kasim Hardaway has never been content with just one lane. For nearly a decade, he made his mark as a nationally recognized food-fluencer and brand consultant, telling stories through flavors and visuals that resonated far beyond Kansas City. But over time, the camera shifted from capturing dishes to exploring something deeper: identity, community, and transformation.
That evolution led to The UNBecoming, Hardaway’s most ambitious project yet. More than a film series, it unfolds as a six-part collection of micro-films, interactive installations, and live gatherings—all designed to invite audiences into their own journeys of unraveling and renewal. For Hardaway, storytelling is not a closed loop but an open invitation, asking people to bring their own narratives into the experience.
His commitment to community also extends beyond film. As a volunteer organizer for BoysGrow’s upcoming Controlled Burn, an open-fire dining fundraiser, he helps cultivate spaces where food, creativity, and impact intersect. Taken together, his work is a study in continual transformation—proof that storytelling is less about the medium and more about the courage to evolve.
We caught up with the omnipresent Hardaway recently to pepper him with our preposterous questionnaire. He made four Instagram posts and created a blog in between answers. Bless.
Photo Courtesy of Kasim Hardaway
The Pitch: Name a dessert that needs to be permanently added to every menu worldwide.
Kasim Hardaway: Cheesecake, but not just any ole cheesecake. I’m talking cheesecake laced with Thai tea and kissed with a hint of star anise. Just a hint.
It’s the kind of dessert that makes you pause mid-bite, eyes involuntarily rolling back, as if you’ve entered nirvana. Loose Thai tea leaves are steeped in heavy cream, which gives the cheesecake a beautiful orange hue, a bold, floral flavor, and a slightly bitter undertone. (It helps balance out the sweetness, trust me).
Time yourself. How long can you go without blinking?
18.25 seconds. That was me trying my absolute hardest: face twitching, fighting against my eyes closing.
After I saw my time, I looked up the records and was humbled real fast. Turns out some people can go minutes, even over an hour, without blinking. Suddenly, my lil’ “superpower” looked more like a warm-up lap. Still, I’ll take it. For one shining moment, I thought I was Olympic material.
If you were a chair, what kind of chair would you be?
Easy—an Eames Lounge Chair (1956). Iconic. Timeless. Effortlessly sleek. A strong silhouette with a little curve.
It says, “Yes, I’m comfortable, but I also demand respect.” People don’t just sit in an Eames Lounge Chair; they lounge in it like they’ve finally made it in life. That’s exactly the energy I’d like to embody. It’s the kind of chair that makes people say things like, “Oh, this old thing?” while secretly flexing the fact that it’s a design classic worth thousands. I aspire to that level of humble-brag.
You’re getting your portrait done—which artist is doing it?
Photo Courtesy of Kasim Hardaway
Kehinde Wiley, no contest. Hands down. Imagine me, sitting there in a casual hoodie or apron, surrounded by an opulent, floral background. Wiley has a way of making the ordinary feel extraordinary. I mean, the man painted Barack Obama and somehow made him look even cooler. That alone seals the deal.
If anyone could make me look both approachable and like I should be hanging in the Louvre, it’s him.
Bonus 5th Question: What’s a cruise excursion you’ve always wanted to try?
Whale watching in Alaska. There’s something humbling about being face-to-face with a creature the size of a school bus that could end you in a tail flick but instead chooses to breach majestically like a synchronized swimmer.
I like the idea of sipping hot cocoa on a boat while wrapped in seventeen layers of clothing, screaming “Did you see that?!” to strangers I’ll never speak to again. Plus, Alaska is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited, and I’m dying to go back.
