“It’s either understanding one another, or destruction!”
Ricardo, it turns out, is Honduran, but he looks black to me. We’ve known each other for several years in passing; he plays percussion in Faith Beattie’s jazz trio at the Queen City Grill, where I frequently drink heavily. We’ve exchanged smiles and nods, and I’ve thrown a few quid into the tip jar on nights I feel flush.
Last week we sat outside at adjacent tables to beat the heat and smoke, Ricardo sucking on a cigar and me with my Firefly vaporizer (both illegal, as we were too close to the entrance). I noted Ricardo’s swank Panama hat, and we started in on small talk. Eventually we got around to the issues of the day in a week that had some doozies: The Confederate battle flag had come down and same-sex marriage had been approved by a venomously divided Supreme Court, along with key rulings supporting national health care and fair housing. Marijuana, too, had had a major victory thanks to the White House, which lifted a longstanding restriction on research on medical marijuana by eliminating the Public Health Service review imposed in 1999 and allowing scientists to legally investigate the health benefits of cannabis.
“It’s funny, man,” Ricardo told me while chewing on his Cuban, “I feel a real change coming on. We’re at the cusp of something. It can go either way, you know?” I did. “It’s either understanding one another, or destruction! I’m just holdin’ on, hoping things tip toward the positive.”
Despite the victories, Ricardo and I had something heavy on our minds: the recent murders of nine members of a bible-study group, gunned down at the historic Emanuel A.M.E. (African Methodist Episcopal) Church in Charleston. We had both been inspired by the President’s eulogy (featuring a chilling rendition of “Amazing Grace”), but more so by the families of those who had been massacred.
“I don’t think I could have shown that much grace, man,” I said, referring to the relatives who showed up at the killer’s bond hearing, each of whom forgave the shooter. “Hell, I could barely forgive my ex-wife—and she didn’t kill anyone.” (That I know of.)
“Oh, I hear you. But hate is a lie,” Ricardo said, with his own preacher’s cadence. “You may not be able to change those who hate, but through forgiveness you can lose the cynicism and anger in your own heart. For lost souls like that murderer, it’s possible to bring light to the darkness. Through love, we can truly create heaven on earth. With my thoughts and actions, I can change myself. It’s truly profound.”
Gay-pride revelers, tourists, and drunken partiers passed by, making the Belltown street scene even more festive than usual. Maybe it was the buzz from our vices of choice, but Ricardo and I realized our discussion—-from men truly worlds apart—was invigorating and important. Though we clearly shared liberal values (starving artists and all), in a way it felt as if we were practicing—emphasizing our similarities rather than our divisions and differences. “Lately, I’ve been having great discussions with people who may not have even talked to me a decade ago,” he said. “How can we advance love and not fall into complacency? I think it?s by engaging with one another. Listening.”
While the Trio played an enchanted set of samba-inspired grooves (he’s Honduran, man!), I thought about something our President had said during his eloquent eulogy for Rev. Clementa C. Pinckney: “To settle for symbolic gestures without following up with the hard work of more lasting change—that’s how we lose our way again.”
The victories for equality, cannabis, and individual liberties haven’t arrived out of the clear blue sky. They’re the culmination of grassroots efforts, honing the message, and civic (and hopefully civil) discourse over complex, meaningful, and often hot-button issues. State by state these issues have been fought over, voted on, thrown out, and often, in the end, adjudicated. The key is not only dialogue, but vigilance in the democratic process. It’s never a full Kumbaya moment, because the second there’s a victory, there’s a setback and a need to reorganize and carry on. Yes, the tragic shootings in Charleston were followed by a rallying cry to lower the Confederate battle flag, but that cry was followed by more violence, as seven African-American churches in the South have since been set ablaze.
For some reason they make you stop drinking at 2 a.m. in this godforsaken town, so I gathered my things to head inside and settle my tab. I’d grabbed my keys and phone and vaporizer (and cocktail), but was missing my wallet. Any number of folks could have nabbed it from my coat on the patio: a thousand passersby, other diners, one of the dozen or so street people who’d asked for change—or maybe I’d dropped the damn thing on my way to the john. A waiter helped me half-heartedly search under tables with a flashlight. I was drunk and it was time to Uber home; as a regular they’d let me pay later, and I’d make some calls in the morning to cancel my credit cards.
As I took a last look under the table I’d been sitting at, Ricardo approached with a wide smile and wallet in hand; he’d found it under a booth earlier and was looking for me.
We stared at one another, and in our minds 500 years of oppression and lies, pain and misconceptions, stereotypes and generalizations flashed between our eyes.
“You stole it from me, man,” I said, brow arched.
We laughed and embraced simultaneously. It may be a slow roller, but this momentous wave shall not be stopped.
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Marijuana Meet Markets, Ganja and Girl Scouts, and the Kettle Falls 5
Plus: Olympia’s plan to raise the smoking age.Michael Stusser’s column appears weekly on HigherGroundtv.com as well as the Seattle Weekly and other newspapers around the country.
Marijuana-related business—and the cold, hard cash that comes with it—is the driving force behind the current Green Rush. In Washington and Colorado alone, consumers purchased $370 million worth of cannabis products in 2014. The U.S. market for legal ganja was $2.7 billion—up 75 percent from the previous year. If growth continues—and it will as more states legalize (most predict at least 15 more in the next five years, including California in 2016)—the projected numbers could soar to $11 billion by 2019. I don’t suggest investing in green stocks (after all, most of these businessmen and -women were literally drug dealers last year), but the dope frenzy is just getting started. So this week, let’s start with a market report.
GIRL SCOUT PUSHERS
The best ganjapreneurial story thus far hasn’t been about a boutique grower, high-tech vape, or artisan edible—it was a Girl Scout! For the second year in a row, 14-year old Danielle Lei has set up shop outside San Francisco’s Green Cross medical dispensary and sold boxes of cookies like gangbusters. (What a surprise!) This year the Super-Scout sold 208 boxes in two hours. While there have been no such efforts from the Seattle-based GS Troops (perhaps pestering potheads in front of Cannabis City is too politically incorrect in the Evergreen State), it does make me wonder if the Girl Scouts of America should make a licensing deal with some big-time edible maker. They could broker a hefty up-front fee and royalty, and allow Bhang Chocolates or 420Bars to make THC-Mints and Cannabis DeLites! Just don’t give any to Maureen Dowd. She’ll chow the whole box.SMOKIN’ SINGLES
Another overlooked market in the marijuana space is the meet market. Over one-third of all couples married since 2005 met online. In addition to match.com and eHarmony, other dating sites help narrow the pool: VeggieDate is for vegetarians looking for love (and a salad), Equestrian Singles hooks up horse-lovers (that sounds weird), TrekPassions transports Trekkies together (“Live love and prosper!”), and Tastebuds attempts to unite music lovers of similar genres. (You’d hate to find out too far down the line that her favorite band is Mumford & Sons.) And now there’s a dating site that connects frisky 20-somethings by their common interest . . . in weed! High There is basically a Tinder app for stoners that matches not only the way you like to get high (bongs, vapes, edibles) but your energy level once you’re fully baked (while marijuana turns me into a hyperactive dancing housecleaner, others may prefer to remain couch-locked . . . ). It’s funny: People used to list drug use as a way to weed out potential paramours.THE KETTLE FALLS 5
With all the openness of weed dating sites and potrepreneurs selling their wares in broad daylight, let’s not forget growing cannabis is still a federal crime, even here in Washington. In a high-profile case, five Stevens County residents, known as the Kettle Falls 5, are looking at mandatory 10-year sentences for growing marijuana for medical purposes and in compliance with state law. The U.S. attorney is of the mind that the collective had more weed than they needed and were selling ganja to others—thus they raided the property in August 2012 and seized 75 plants. Given the recent passage of the Cromnibus spending bill that bans any Department of Justice funds (read bulldozers, DEA submachine guns, etc.) from being spent on prosecuting medical-marijuana patients who comply with state law, the defendants were hoping to have the case dismissed. U.S. District Court Judge Thomas Rice instead dismissed the argument, and the trial is scheduled to begin Feb. 23 in Spokane. It’ll be hard for the family to build much of a defense, as medical marijuana doesn’t exist (and thus can’t be argued) at the federal level. The case should be a bellwether regarding future legal actions against medical collectives. On a side note, family patriarch Larry Harvey probably won’t have to stand trial . . . because he has Stage IV pancreatic cancer.PUT THAT IN YOUR PIPE AND WAIT TO SMOKE IT
Finally, a bill being sponsored in the legislature by Rep. Tina Orwall would make Washington the first state in the country to raise the smoking age from 18 to 21. This point is moot for potheads, as the legal marijuana smoking age is already 21—not to mention the (almost unbelievable) study published in the Journal of the American Medical Association which shows that moderate long-term cannabis smoking is not associated with negative lung health. So let’s dogpile on tobacco—which will kill ya: Attorney General Bob Ferguson, who claims smoking kills 8,000 Washingtonians a year, strongly supports the idea of raising the puffing age. “We know that 95 percent of teens who don’t smoke by the time they are 21 never end up smoking,” he said. “It’s really important we are limiting access in those teenage years.” It’s estimated that a raise in the smoking age from 18 to 21 would cost the tobacco industry $20 million a year. Ya know what business they might get into to make up for those losses? Welcome to Marijuana-boro Country . . .
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Call Me Cannabis
Comparing pot use to something else that’s none of the government’s business.
Before I launch into this analogy, I would like to say that I understand how many will find it inappropriate, and that I came up with the notion while stoned out of my mind.
I’m starting to think about cannabis as having a similar journey and backstory to Olympic gold medalist and transgender reality star Caitlyn Jenner. Until recently, like Jenner, trailblazers on the weed front have organized in secret closets and basements, hoping one day to live safely, truthfully, and freely in the great wide open. And, like Jenner, marijuana—aka Mary Jane—has been an accomplished, harmless, and friendly sexpot all along . . . but has recently undergone a full makeover and is beginning to dress things up with PR campaigns, professional packaging, couture oils, and all-important accessories.
Let’s start with the name. Bruce took the name Caitlyn (notice her refusal to use the letter K—as in Kris, Khloe, Kourtney, Kendall, and Kimye) to reflect her change (and independence). Marijuana, on the other hand, has reverted back to cannabis, after being identified first as marihuana, then bad-mouthed with slurs such as loco weed, grass, pot, killer bud, the Devil’s weed, dope, schwagg, even shit (as in “THE shit”). Antidrug propaganda created “marihuana” in the 1930s—a sad attempt to scare the public with a “new” and terrifying substance (used by jazz musicians!), even though the plant had been sold in pharmacies for over a half-century in America. Marihuana sounded “foreign” (read: Hispanic), and Reefer Madness was used to incite fear, round up immigrants (especially during the Great Depression), and scare the masses to outlaw it. (By 1931, cannabis was illegal in 29 states, and in 1937 it was criminalized through the Marijuana Tax Act.)
The legal documents for the new Ms. Jenner’s identity will be challenging. It can take months for name- and gender-change applications to be approved (what I wouldn’t give to be in the DMV line that day), and these ID docs—often requiring background checks—affect everything from bank accounts to Social Security cards, to say nothing of her Twitter handle. Similarly, those in the cannabis community have had challenges of their own: States requiring medical-marijuana patients to sign a registry (including Washington) are forcing them to admit to a felony at the federal level, clearly in violation of HIPAA laws. For canna-businesses, both dispensaries and recreational stores have been unable to utilize banking and insurance services for fear of criminal investigations, while at the same time navigating massive tax payments to the IRS.
Sadly, anyone in the LGBT community is butting up against conservative moralists, gender assumptions, and entrenched cultural ideals on a daily basis. The process of cannabis’ conversion has been similarly dramatic and life-altering—going from the tyranny of the War on Drugs to only recently being accepted and fully legalized in four states. It’s as if the subject has lived two entirely separate lives.
As with one’s sexuality, your use of cannabis doesn’t affect anyone else. It’s a private matter (that is, until I Am Cait airs on E! in August), and one your employer, and the government, should have no say or stake in. While it’s been argued otherwise (as in Elinor Burkett’s New York Times article “What Makes a Woman”), Jenner’s transition doesn’t undermine feminism or women’s identities, it doesn’t challenge masculinity, it is not immoral, and it doesn’t hurt others. Correspondingly, ganja doesn’t hurt others—that is, unless you’re hot-boxing or too stoned to drive (or, in Jenner’s case, haven’t had experience driving in high heels and crash while avoiding paparazzi). Pot also doesn’t undermine the other legal drugs you may be drinking, smoking, or popping.
Fighting gender stereotypes and stoner stereotypes, of course, are not the same. Being a pothead is a choice, while Jenner’s identity is baked in, so to speak, a part of her biology (though surgery, plastic or otherwise, is not a requirement). But just as transitioning individuals must be taken seriously and their choices respected, those who partake of cannabis need their rights recognized. Sadly, many parents have their children taken from them for marijuana use (including medicinal), while others lose their jobs; veterans with PTSD cannot access it for relief; and over 650,000 citizens a year lose their freedom when arrested for marijuana-related offenses.
The opposition to Jenner has been fierce, phobic, and ridiculous. (A campaign is underway to take away Jenner’s 1976 Olympic Gold medal in the men’s decathlon.) When a man becomes a woman, it’s a complex issue that may take some explanation, patience, and, above all, tolerance and compassion. The legalization movement is also locked in debate, full of nuances, ignorant tirades, continuing arrests, and Washington’s own version of medal take-aways: Despite legalization’s convincing statewide victory, hundreds of city councils are banning marijuana in their jurisdictions.
Times are changing. Just as Jenner went from Wheaties cover boy to Vanity Fair cover girl, cannabis has gone from “The Marihuana Menace: Assassin of Youth” to this month’s scientific centerfold in National Geographic. In the end, both Caitlyn and cannabis are elevating the dialogue—about personal truths, the right to choose your own path and be legally recognized and protected, and what it means to be free.
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The Good, the Bad, & the Very Ugly
An Afghanistan/Iraq vet faces a life sentence for less than an ounce. Thanks, Oklahoma.
The Good
Oregon has joined Alaska, Colorado, D.C., and our own great state in the Brotherhood of Ganja, officially legalizing marijuana on July 1. In several ways, the Oregonians are doing it better than us, allowing home grows (four plants each), setting the tax at 17 percent (as compared to our newly lowered but still obnoxious 37 percent excise tax), expunging the records of those with cannabis convictions, and even letting citizens fly with weed within the state. Oregon also allows the most pot per person of any of the legal states: up to half a pound of Grade A herb (eight ounces) as compared to our paltry single-ounce (or 28-gram) limit. Adults 21 and over can carry up to an ounce of cannabis and have a pound of edibles in their homes, as well as 72 ounces of cannabis-infused liquids. To get a sense of how much weed you can possess, the Portland Police Bureau’s handy reference guide compares chronic quantities to the city’s famous Voodoo donuts.As for buying weed at a retail outlet: Not so fast, Portlandia. Because of bureaucratic red tape (green tape?), Oregon’s recreational stores may not be up and running until fall 2016. Governor Kate Brown is considering signing a law that would allow sales of recreational cannabis by existing medical dispensaries to begin October 1. Of course, Rose City residents are always welcome in Rain City if they’re running low in the meantime. Visitors will have to smoke all their legal ganja before they head back to P-Town, however: Ya can’t bring cannabis across state lines in either direction.
The Bad
Rush Limbaugh. Just the mention of his name can make you throw up in your mouth a little bit. The Great Bloated Reefer Madness Fiend was at it again last month on his why-is-this-still-on-the-air radio show.“I don’t have any experience with this so I’m unable to render an opinion,” said Limbaugh. “Maybe I should go smoke some and find out what this is all about and be able to render an . . . [indecipherable mumbling]Oh, yeah, eat a brownie. That’s what ‘wake and bake’ means, right? Yeah, there’s an NFL player who had a Snapchat or Instagram post. He woke up and he’s all happy, and said, ‘Time to wake and bake,’ and somebody said, ‘Wow, that guy does the weed.’ So that’s what wake and bake means. Bake some cookies or brownies, I guess. Have you had them? . . . [heavy breathing]What do they taste like? . . . [more gasping, munching sounds]I do wonder what they taste like.”
OK, a few notes and we’ll move on. First, “waking and baking” is not about edibles—“baking” is a reference to adding a heated element, such as fire, to cannabis, then inhaling through a device. Secondly, the “waking” part of a wake ’n’ bake, in stoner’s parlance, means rising each morning and taking a hit off a pipe or bong. Lastly, Mr. Limbo, I highly suggest, if you truly haven’t already, trying some of the wacky weed. Unlike the oxycodone you so covet, it’s not addictive, and might even calm you while the last of your rapidly dwindling minions abandon your show.
The Very Ugly
It bears repeating that, until marijuana is legalized federally, hundreds of thousands of Americans will continue to be arrested for possession of the plant, and our veterans and loved ones will not have access to its medicinal properties.In our least favorite state, Oklahoma, Marine veteran Kris Lewandowski is facing a life sentence for possession of less than an ounce of weed—which he was using to help cope with PTSD. Lewandowski, who served three combat tours of duty that included stints in Afghanistan and Iraq (thank you for your service), was attempting to wean himself off a fistful of pharmaceuticals that he’d been prescribed for a variety of ailments, including severe PTSD after being honorably and medically discharged from the Marine Corps.
In June 2014, neighbors called the police after Lewandowski had what his wife described as a PTSD flare-up. Comanche County sheriff’s deputies responded to a report that Lewandowski had been chasing his wife with a knife. Cops searched the house, finding six small cannabis plants that did not total a single ounce; in Oklahoma, that’s bad news no matter how many tours you’ve served. Among other offenses, including a disputed domestic-violence charge, the war veteran and father of three was charged with felony marijuana possession and cultivation, and could potentially serve a life sentence under Oklahoma’s draconian weed laws.
Both Kris and his wife Whitney were arrested and charged with felonies, and were told their children were being taken to Child Protective Services. The police told Whitney her kids could avoid that fate—and she’d avoid the felony charge—if she pressed assault charges. Though she opposes the domestic-violence charge, she understandably took the deal. “They’re trying to use me as a victim and to make it look worse on his case,” said Whitney in an interview with Truth in Media. “My husband has absolutely never laid his hands on me ever. He is not an abusive man, ever . . . quite the opposite. He is extremely doting.”
Since the arrest, the family packed up and moved to California (with the Oklahoma DAs approval), where Kris legally obtained a medical-marijuana card to treat his PTSD. After inadvertently missing a court date—while under supervision at a Veterans Administration psych hospital!—Lewandowski was arrested in a guns-drawn raid as he was picking up his kids from preschool. The veteran is currently in police custody at the Orange County Jail, where he awaits extradition to Oklahoma to face his charges. There’s a GoFundMe campaign for those wishing to help with the family’s legal defense, as well as a Weed for Warriors Project. Lewandowski’s next hearing is scheduled for July 22. #SupportOurTroops.
UPDATE (July 20, 2015):
According to the Weed for Warriors project, all felony charges have been dropped against Marine veteran Kris Lewandowski, he has been released from jail, and the remaining charges have been transferred to veteran’s court. Lewandowski had been charged with marijuana possession which he had been growing to treat his PTSD. Under Oklahoma’s sentencing guidelines, he potentially could have served life in prison for the possession and cultivation of cannabis.
