Pride Comes Once a Year…But At What Cost?
“They always say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” - Andy Warhol
Early on the morning of Saturday, June 28, 1969, police raided the Stonewall Inn, a gay bar at 43 Christopher Street in Greenwich Village, New York City. While police raids on gay bars were routine in the 1960s, on this particular day the patrons at the Stonewall collectively decided they were not in the mood for protocols.
Officers found themselves on the short end of the stick rather quickly and the situation exploded into a full-blown riot. Friction between police and LGTBQ+ residents of Greenwich Village erupted into more protests the next evening and again several nights later. Village community members organized into activist groups and insisted on the right to live openly and without fear of being arrested or harassed.
A year after the uprising, to mark the anniversary on June 28, 1970, the first gay pride marches took place in Chicago, Los Angeles, New York, and San Francisco. Within a few years, gay rights organizations were founded across the US and the world.
Over a half-century later, the riot that inspired an annual pride march has become a parade. Capitalism is the grand marshal. It reigns over a sea of opportunistic marketing efforts - deployed by corporations poorly attempting to camouflage their intentions with rainbow patterns. There is still a spirit of acceptance that can be found…but it's in reference to payment methods.
In 2022, it's become undeniable: as more corporations enter Pride, the more exclusive it becomes. Simply put, liberation is being replaced by luxury.
Pride has evolved into a heavily branded affair. As the heart of this watershed event solidifies itself in roots that are retail-driven instead of riot reflecting, its history is at stake and that comes with far-reaching consequences.
The most critical is access. More and more people, especially those from vulnerable communities, are stuck at the gate, pondering a reality where pride has become a luxury they can’t afford. This reality is a dangerous one. It challenges the very foundation of why this movement was started through an ignorance of its history.
According to accounts written by Dick Leitsch, one of America's first openly gay journalists, there was a three-dollar cover charge at the door of the Stonewall Inn during the year 1969. Once paid, it was up to the patron if they wanted to drink or not. No one made sure you continued to shell out cash. This made the Stonewall Inn a makeshift community center for the latch-keys of the queer world in NYC in the 60s. Non-passing trans folk, misfits, gay youth - many of them rendered homeless by familial and/or societal rejection, all of them the rejects of the rejects. Stonewall was their home.
When the police raided the bar that night in June, they fought for it. It was all they had. They were a marginalized community within a marginalized community, and it’s from their resolve and courage that any progress we enjoy as LGBTQ+ people today was ever made.
There are, of course, parallels that can be drawn to the more problematic access and race issues facing the cannabis industry currently. Again, it's a scenario of people within an already marginalized community taking the brunt of the pain that makes room for growth…and again, there is a capitalistic lens cutting away at the horizon of history behind the industry. As such, the critical role that the LGBTQ+ community played in the early days of cannabis legalization is fading.
People like Dennis Peron were early trailblazers. He organized and led the cannabis legalization movement in legendary ways, including an underground cannabis empire that served the LGBTQ+ community and got him arrested over 20 times. He was a gay man, a Vietnam Vet, and the primary author of the historic Proposition 215 Compassionate Use Act of California. The passing of that specific piece of legislation is also widely considered a key component of the sweeping legalization we are now witnessing in the U.S.
Along with Dennis, Mary Jane Rathbun (aka Brownie Mary) was an American medical cannabis rights activist whose focus was to support the LGBTQ+ community during the AIDS epidemic.
As a hospital volunteer on San Francisco General Hospital’s AIDS ward, she had first-hand experience when it came to the pain, suffering, and a lack of treatment options that advanced, mostly queer patients, were facing. She knew cannabis could make a difference. Soon she was baking her famous infused brownies and gifting them to those in need. While the relief these brownies brought to the sick and suffering was nothing short of humanitarian, she was arrested.
News of her arrest helped to drive increased local, national, and international media attention to the medical cannabis movement. This provided momentum to push it forward. Her arrest also generated interest in the medical community and motivated researchers to propose one of the first clinical trials to study the effects of cannabinoids in HIV-infected adults.
These are incredible legacies that need to be preserved and celebrated. They provide evidence that humanity is capable of compassion over capitalism. It’s a stark contrast to what is currently developing in the LGBTQ+ cannabis community.
As an example, a quick internet search for “queer cannabis” presented me with a Forbes article about a “Queer Cannabis Club”. Initially, the words brought me hope…perhaps there is space in this emerging industry that capitalism has yet to sully. But, by the second paragraph, I learned that the founder is also a “luxury retailer” who decided to have a soft launch of his new queer-inclusive club at Aspen Gay Ski Week. A week that, all in, could easily run in the range of $3,000. Needless to say, it didn’t take long for me to realize this wasn’t a club for this broke-ass queer in cannabis.
But, it compelled me to dig deep into the history of my community. And, in doing so, I gleaned new perspectives, respect, inspiration, and above all strength that I can draw from in my journey as a queer in cannabis.
There are a lot of civil liberties at risk in the current political landscape of the U.S. It’s terrifying to live in a time where the standards civil rights crusaders fought for decades ago can so easily be rolled back. It seems we’ve all been too distracted by the value of the dollar bill, perhaps the time has come for us to focus on the value of change instead.
