How legal weed is leaving the people and the culture behind.
Scene: a white-walled, hermetically sealed dispensary that looks less like a place to buy weed and more like a backdrop from 2001: A Space Odyssey. It smells faintly of ionized air conditioning and plastic. Sleek iPads, LED mood lighting, and a curated playlist engineered to keep you calm enough to tip.
Controlled. Unthreatening.
Cannabis isn’t just a drug anymore (took long enough), and dispensaries aren’t just drug stores. They’re minimalist retail temples with $300 zips and brand copy straight out of an Organifi fever dream. Weed now comes in all shapes, sizes, modalities, and marketing languages.
Gummies for sleep. Pre-rolls for mindfulness. Tinctures for your inner child.
There’s something for everyone. But is there, really?
Because if modern weed culture truly is for everyone, why do I—a 20-year vet of the culture, with no arrest record, no tragic war story—feel like an alien in this showroom?
And more importantly: If I feel like a fish out of water, how does this place feel to someone who’s actually been through it?
The marginalized. The oppressed. The people who caught cases, and lost years. The ones who lit up to stay sane in an insane world. The ones who weren’t offered wellness, but had to create it out of necessity against systemic violence and criminalization.
Can you gentrify a plant the same way you gentrify a block?
Can you sand down the rough edges, remove the politics, and bleach the history without rewriting or simply ignoring it?
Because it sure as hell feels like you can.
And worse—it kinda feels like we already did.
Photo by 420interactive via Midjourney
Before Wellness, There Was Rebellion
For decades, cannabis lived in the margins. It showed up where it was needed.
Quietly. Generously. Hand to hand like communion.
In Harlem jazz clubs, plastic dorm-room bongs, Sufi mystic meditation sanctuaries, and Chicano backyards. In the chest pocket of a baby-blue guayabera outside a corner bodega. In communes full of long-haired deviants who thought Patchouli was Sanskrit for “enlightenment.”
It was medicine when medicine was inaccessible. Relief from pain, trauma, and mental illness in poor, queer, and chronically ill communities.
It was the escape hatch. The life raft. The thing that let you eat. The thing that helped you sleep.
But it was so much more than that. It was language. Belonging.
It was, and still is, a gentle, generous thing.
Cannabis was a cultural banner waved among musicians, Rastas, punks, zoot-suiters, Beatniks, and weirdos. Popularized by Bob Dylan, Allen Ginsberg, Carl Sagan, Cheech and Chong, Cypress Hill, and your cousin from Seattle who rolled a good backwood.
It symbolized freedom and altered states. A protest against conformity, war, and the prison-industrial machine.
What was once traditional medicine used in rites, rituals, and religions—and a scarlet letter for the disenfranchised—has been rebranded over the last decade. Slapped with a coat of paint called “wellness.”
Scrubbed and sanitized. White walls and QR codes. Loyalty programs and app logins.
When you clean something that thoroughly, you wipe off the fingerprints. Lose the context. Erase the people who kept it alive. Some folks still have felonies, while others post blunt reviews on Instagram.
That feels like a hell of a price to pay for “legalization.”
And that word—legalization? It’s doing a whole lot of heavy lifting.
Photo by Mike Von via Unsplash
Weed Was Never Welcome
History doesn’t pat you on the back. It punches you in the gut.
Cannabis has always terrified the powerful. Not because it killed, but because it was hard to control.
Freedom of choice. Freedom of thought.
A sense of belonging they couldn’t tax or lock in a cage.
Fast forward to America, early 1900s. Same paranoia, new targets. After the Mexican Revolution, migrants brought marihuana as part of their culture. It didn’t take long before that was twisted into a threat.
Enter El Paso, 1914. The first U.S. prohibition law, birthed by racist fairy tales about violent “Mexican men on marijuana.” No evidence. Simply white fear dressed up as public safety.
By 1937, the Marihuana Tax Act buried weed under paperwork. What was once medicine, now meant four years in Leavenworth and a $1,000 fine. Just ask Samuel R. Caldwell—one day after the law passed, he was in a cage.
Then came the Boggs Act in ’51. Mandatory minimums. Two to ten years for a joint. Twenty grand in fines.
Photo by 420interactive via Midjourney
Enemies, Not Evidence
All of it paved the road for Nixon’s masterstroke: the Controlled Substances Act of 1970. Cannabis classified alongside heroin. It wasn’t about danger—it was about scapegoats.
“We knew we couldn’t make it illegal to be either against the war or Black… so we criminalized the hippies with marijuana and Blacks with heroin.”
They didn’t need facts. They needed villains.
Reagan took it further. Harsher minimums, militarized raids, helicopters over Humboldt—like they were growing plutonium in the Redwoods.
Minorities and folks in the Emerald Triangle were battered by felony charges, property raids, and paranoia. Stop-and-frisk. Civil asset forfeiture. Communities gutted. Kids expelled for the smell of weed.
Black and White Americans have the same use rates, but the arrest rate is nearly 4x higher if your skin is dark. A felony meant no housing, no aid, no job.
Weed was never the enemy. But those in power needed one.
Now it’s 2025. Weed is legal—for some. If your city council is friendly. But we’re still seeing raids, crackdowns, and forgotten communities paying the price.
The war never ended. It just filed an LLC.
Photo by Getty Images via Unsplash
Some Do the Time, Others Make the Money
The path to freedom for those brutalized by prohibition has been a Sisyphean nightmare. They’re not seen as stewards—just obstacles.
Sure, cannabis is legal in many places. But legal for whom? The people hit hardest by the Drug War? They’re watching from the bleachers. Black ownership is under 2%.
That doesn’t feel like oversight. It feels like design.
Expungement moves like cold molasses and only applies if your record is otherwise clean. The industry’s run by MSOs backed by billionaires and capital bros who’ve never had to stash weed under a car seat.
They praise the ends, ignore the means.
They show up with legal teams, generational wealth, and VC checks big enough to buy out zip codes. They ride waves of licensing delays while equity applicants drown in red tape.
Bureaucratic landmines. Compliance mazes. Application fees that make your eyelid twitch.
Is that justice?
Is that what legalization means?
I’ve seen it. I worked for one of those shiny chains in SoCal. They can afford to play the long game. But who can’t?
In this $30 billion gold rush, the people who risked everything—jail time, raids, the loss of their kids—are boxed out, repackaged, and sold back their own culture in mylar bags.
Equity programs are often hollow. “Mentorship” without money is free labor. “Partnership” without ownership is exploitation. “DEI” without receipts is PR.
Donating 5% on 4/20 isn’t justice. It’s hush money.
Justice means the people who built this aren’t just in the room—they’re at the head of the damn table.
Deconstructing the Wellness Aesthetic
Legalization has scrubbed cannabis clean. Disinfected it. Repackaged it as wellness.
Now it’s goop. Lululemon. Pier One with pre-rolls.
$70 eighths with a 40% tax. Capitalism in a caftan. What cannabis stood for—insubordination, community, survival—has been ghosted.
Boutique branding: clean type, muted pastels, soft light, and words like calm, elevate, soften, center. No history, no politics. Only vibes.
It swaps “blunts” for “botanicals” and distances itself from the hands that carried this sacred rebellion. Offers the high without the hindsight. “Plant medicine,” but only if the people who grew that medicine never had to duck cops or risk custody.
Photo by Igor Omilaev, via Unsplash
Everyone Wants a Piece, Now That It’s Safe
Cash has amnesia, so the celebrities come crawling.
Seth Rogen’s Houseplant sells $300 ashtrays and $125 stash jars—color-coded, perfectly modern. Nothing counterculture about it.
Cann, backed by Gwyneth Paltrow and Rosario Dawson, calls itself a “social tonic.” Not a drinkable. A tonic. Other brands—Beboe, Miss Grass, Rose Los Angeles—package weed as a supplement for stress, sex, and sleep.
They speak wellness fluently but say nothing of the War on Drugs.
This is gentrification. The cultural roots stripped to make weed palatable for a Whole Foods crowd. The price of entry is privilege.
Yes, cannabis can be mindful. But why does it become acceptable only after it’s been whitewashed and marked up 400%?
Brands & Orgs Doing It Right: Equity, Culture, and Integrity
While the industry floods with opportunists, a few companies are doing it right.
Ball Family Farms—an LA-based operation with an in-house mentorship program and no gatekeeping. Josephine and Billie’s—the first dispensary in America built by and for women of color.
This is what it looks like when reparations come with receipts.
Economic inclusion. Ownership. A foothold for the folks whose ropes were slashed on day one.
They’re not perfect—but they’re trying. And that matters.
Photo by Chase Fade, via Unsplash
The Culture Isn’t for Sale—But It’s Up for Bidding
So what now? We can’t undo history. Can’t unchain cuffs or unburn fields. But legalization without justice isn’t progress. It’s a cultural facelift.
The ones who’ve lived through hell deserve more than token speaking gigs. They deserve ownership. Autonomy. A check.
And we, as consumers, have a role. We vote with our dollars. We ask hard questions. Push back. Speak up. Because this isn’t just about weed. It never was. It’s about who gets a seat at the table—and who’s left with an empty plate.
Buy the gummies. Burn the pre-rolls. Take the tincture for your inner child. But remember: that child didn’t build this industry.
The outlaws did.
And if you can’t see or feel them in the dispensary, ask why. Then keep asking.
[PRESS RELEASE] – BOULDER, Colo., Aug. 18, 2025 – Canopy USA LLC, a brand-driven organization strategically positioned across the fastest-growing states and highest potential segments of the U.S. cannabis market, announced the appointment of a new executive team responsible for driving the company’s next phase of expansion.
Drawing on extensive industry experience, these leaders will steer Canopy USA forward through a shared vision to elevate the company’s brand portfolio, enhance day-to-day operations and execution, and advance growth initiatives across multiple state markets.
Casey Rash, chief financial officer, will oversee centralized functions including finance, human resources and IT. Rash brings deep expertise in regulated industries and a strategic approach to driving organizational scale and efficiency.
Rebecca Kirk, chief operating officer, will lead the company’s operations, innovation and legal teams. Known for building scalable systems and launching category-leading products, Kirk will play a critical role in driving Canopy USA’s performance across its value chain.
Kelly Flores, chief business development officer, will be responsible for marketing, market expansion and product strategy. With a proven track record in cannabis commercialization, Flores will guide brand development and strategic growth initiatives in both existing and emerging state markets.
“These leadership appointments mark the start of a plan to capture growth in the U.S. cannabis market,” Canopy USA President Brooks Jorgensen said. “Within the best of each Acreage, Jetty and Wana, we’ve been aligning systems, teams and processes across markets to create a scalable, efficient organization. With our leadership team now in place, we’re moving forward with purpose.”
Canopy USA’s platform is built to deliver consistent quality, innovative products and trusted brands to consumers and retail partners nationwide. By combining deep market expertise with a focus on execution, the company aims to set the standard for growth and leadership in the evolving U.S. cannabis industry.
Adult-use cannabis sales in Washington state have been falling for five years, according to Department of Revenue data reported by KHQ.
First-quarter sales in 2025 reached $277 million, which is nearly $100 million less than the market’s peak during the pandemic in 2021. Based on current trends, annual cannabis sales this year could be the state’s lowest since 2019 after five straight years of declining sales in Washington.
Regulators attribute the decline to oversupply issues, which drive prices down and make it more difficult for licensees to turn a profit.
Officials with the state Liquor and Cannabis Board (LCB) recently announced the largest expansion of cannabis dispensaries since the market’s launch over a decade ago, offering up to 52 new retail social equity licenses.
Meanwhile, a report from the state’s legislative auditor found that “Washington businesses produced two to three times more cannabis than retailers sold in 2023,” and that “inaccurate and incomplete data” had hampered regulators’ capacity for “data-driven regulation.”
The auditcalls on the LCB to submit a plan to lawmakers by December 31, 2025, containing strategies to improve data accuracy.
Based in Portland, Oregon, Graham is Ganjapreneur’s Chief Editor. He has been writing about the legalization landscape since 2012 and has been contributing to Ganjapreneur since our official launch in…
More by Graham Abbott
During an interview with Delaware Public Media, Gov. Matt Meyer (D) also discussed a conversation he had with Colorado Gov. Jared Polis (D) about regulating the marijuana industry, drawing a contrast between their respective responsibilities given the fact that Colorado is much larger with more local jurisdictions to interact with compared to Delaware, which has just three counties.
Delaware’s adult-use cannabis market launched at the beginning of this month, but legislation awaiting Meyer’s action would make a key change related to local control of where marijuana businesses could operate. And the governor has indicated he’s still wavering on the proposal.
Asked about the fate of the bill from Sen. Trey Paradee (D), who also championed the state’s legalization legislation, Meyer said: “Stay tuned. You’ll hear soon. We will be taking action very shortly.”
“Listen, I have local government background. I don’t think it’s appropriate that, when state government likes local government regulation, they say, ‘Yeah, we support it,’” the governor said. “And when they don’t like local government regulation, they overrule it.”
“At the same time, it’s important for communities that this moves forward,” he said, referring to the implementation of the adult-use cannabis market.
The response didn’t clearly indicate where Meyer currently stands on the proposal, but he also said it’s “always on the table” that he could allow the bill to take effect without his signature.
“I was talking to Governor Polis of Colorado about marijuana regulation just the other day and he’s just like, ‘Just let the counties do it.’ He has too many counties to know,” Meyer said. “I was asking, ‘What’s the regulation of counties?’ He’s like, ‘I have no idea.’ He’s like, ‘Some do it, some don’t. I don’t really know.’”
The Delaware Public Media host said: “But he’s not going to run into the problem, though, where if there’s enough zoning laws, there’s literally no place to put the facilities. That’s probably not a problem for him.”
The governor agreed, saying “Colorado is much larger” with a “three-mile [zoning] limitation from schools,” which would be less feasible in the smaller state of Delaware. “We’re going to see what we can do,” he said.
On the topic of broader regulatory responsibilities, Meyer said the state is “very lucky” that the Office of the Marijuana Commissioner (OCM) is headed up by someone who comes from outside of Delaware who is “one of the leading thinkers on this issue.”
“He looks at it from a business and community aspect, whereas traditionally Delaware has looked at it as a public safety issue,” the governor said. For his part, Meyer said revenue generated from cannabis taxes is “clearly third” on his list of reasons to support legalization.
The first priority, he said, is ensuring that “communities are sustainable and they’re safe and they’re protected.”
“I think there’s a lot of concern in communities. I have small children. What are we doing? Do we want this thing all around our kids? I don’t know how many of you have been to New York or San Francisco lately, but you go outside and there’s that stench,” he said. “That’s not Delaware. We’re doing everything to make sure that we continue to retain the same communities we have.”
“We also have a historic obligation. Marijuana and marijuana enforcement in this state has not been equitable. There are people in our communities today, almost all Black and brown people, who have been imprisoned for years and years for using and selling marijuana, where people of different colors of skin have not had that same experience. We need to make sure we use whatever revenue we have to address that historic wrong going forward.”
“We’re continuing to watch and monitor to make sure communities are being protected as this economic opportunity grows and make sure people are safe,” Meyer said.
While marijuana revenue might be “third” on his list, the governor recently touted the state’s first “successful” weekend of adult-use cannabis sales, with total purchases for medical and recreational marijuana totaling nearly $1 million—and compliance checks demonstrating that the regulated market is operating as intended under the law.
Delaware’s first adult-use marijuana shops officially opened for business on August 1, with a handful of existing medical cannabis operators able to service consumers 21 and older.
Ahead of the sales roll-out, the governor last month toured one of the state’s cannabis cultivation facilities, praising the quality of marijuana that’s being produced, which he said will be the “French wine of weed.”
Dozens of other would-be retailers that have either already received licenses or are still awaiting issuance will need to wait for further regulatory approvals until they can open their doors—a situation that’s frustrated some advocates.
The idea is to identify any hiccups that lawmakers might need to address when they return for next year’s legislative session.
OCM initially projected that recreational sales would start by March, but complications related to securing an FBI fingerprint background check service code delayed the implementation. Lawmakers passed a bill in April to resolve the issue, and the FBI subsequently issued the code that the stat’s marijuana law requires.
A total of 125 licenses will ultimately be issued, including 30 retailers, 60 cultivators, 30 manufacturers and five testing labs. Last year, regulators also detailed what portion of each category is reserved for social equity applicants, microbusinesses and general open licenses.
The then-governor last year signed several additional marijuana bills into law, including measures that would allow existing medical cannabis businesses in the state to begin recreational sales on an expedited basis, transfer regulatory authority for the medical program and make technical changes to marijuana statutes.
The dual licensing legislation is meant to allow recreational sales to begin months earlier than planned, though critics say the legislation would give an unfair market advantage to larger, more dominant businesses already operating in multiple states.
The policy change removes limitations for patient eligibility based on a specific set of qualifying health conditions. Instead, doctors will be able to issue cannabis recommendations for any condition they see fit.
The law also allows patients over the age of 65 to self-certify for medical cannabis access without the need for a doctor’s recommendation.
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