Happy 4/20 to those who have some skin in the prohibition game, and no one but.
Weed has been stolen from Black women (from all of us in one way or another, but I’m focused on Black women because if we don’t, who will?) and as I’ve written before, I resent that and I try to refute that as best I can. That said, I was very honored to have been asked to contribute to Unbothered’s “High Impact” series on Black women and cannabis. Please check out my piece about me, my mom and two generations of two very different (and similar) single Black weed-smoking moms.
I’ve been a regular weed smoker since I was 18, though there were some periods of infrequent usage; in recent years, I’ve come to use cannabis in a number of forms and for a number of reasons in addition to the social pleasure it once exclusively represented for me.
At 36, I am an Old Millennial, so I started smoking at a time when recent images of Black women enjoying weed in pop culture were, in fact, a dream from the future. I envy the younger half of our generation for having a Beyoncé who openly boasted about getting high during their peak club years; she definitely provided the soundtrack for my peak club years too, but she wasn’t that free yet. How could she be? This was back when Janet Jackson got her career stolen from her because of Justin Timberlakes grubby-ass little fingers.
To be entirely honest, while I’m relieved that there hasn’t been any controversy or debate over the weed references that Queen Bey has been giving us since 2013’s self-titled classic, I also think we have failed to acknowledge how significant it was that she went there at all.
I’ve made my peace with being ahead of the times with a lot of my social attitudes (being a Black woman means being to the left of what’s “right” anyway, what’s even the point of trying with the rules? Oh, yes, fear of poverty and/or early death,) and I’ve come to understand that the folks who may have tried to make me feel bad for smoking weed, or who looked at me differently for doing so, had been conditioned to believe somethings that I was very fortunate to resist.
However, there is a little wince that I feel on days like today when everyone is so open and proud to let social media know that they know what a strain is, because I don’t think everyone deserves to celebrate just yet.
Everyone deserves weed, not everyone deserves a weed holiday.
Even many of us in legal use states know that we are still vulnerable to how the state, and other dangerous entities, choose to interpret our engagement with cannabis. What have you risked or given up or lost to smoke? If you never faced any danger or social stigma for using marijuana, do you really need 4/20?
Also, is weed a part of your life for real? Or are you just playing dress up today? Have you ever sat down, visibly high, at a table of not-high people, while smelling like weed?
Did you ever smoke in your sweater, take it off, and then put it back on before you picked your kid up from school? Have you ever looked into the sweet face of an older Black woman when she realized that it was you who came in smelling like that?
Ever had prospective mates and/or friends who’d gladly drink themselves to death if the right top-shelf spirit was on the happy hour menu look at you as if you were the guardian of death when you pulled out a joint?
If you’ve never been in an uncomfortable situation related to your smoking, you don’t need a day either, dammit!
Be clear, I’m not gatekeeping. I’m just salty about how tough it was to be a pot girl before it was on-trend, which may sound like gatekeeping, except for I’m not suggesting consequences or tiers of weed-club membership here. I just think that maybe 4/20 should be exclusive to those of us who risk their livelihoods, families and freedom to use something—even legally—that has been used to do such great harm to my people. But definitely not gatekeeping here.
Celebrate as you see fit, you know I am!
Jamilah
*Funny enough, one of my many failed blog experiments of days past was a Tumblr page called “Grownish,” and the Freeform team was polite enough to ask if they could have the long-dormant handle when they launched the series a few years back.
PS: As of today, the name of this…thing is no longer “Doing the Most,”a title that I chose when I’d originally planned to launch a Substack newsletter about a year ago. I’m excited for Phoebe Robinson’s new Comedy Central show by that very name, which premiers later this week, and as such, felt it made no sense to keep using that name. Shout out to me for beating the CC content team to this decision!*
In the meantime, there is no title. I will name it something new once the true spirit of this project has made itself known to me. Ashe.(Though this is a newsletter, don’t forget that the actual posts live forever and you can read them on the web. The archives are right here for you to enjoy!)
I really like whatever this newsletter is! Keep writing!
As an Old Millenial smoker, my daughter's father would threaten to expose my habit in court. 420 wasn't that cool.