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The Weed in Me

So I was today years old when I learned that the cannabis plant can change whole sexes when under stress. It's true! And when I was watching the episode of Bong Appetit on Hulu that mentioned this tidbit (along with some really great advice for cooking with cannabis) I was empowered as a transman. Weird right? I know. Let me explain.
Apparently, my entire family had smoked flower at some point throughout their lives without me knowing for a majority of my life. And as I was in my oblivious early adulthood state, I had my internal battle with cannabis like a crazy. I remember smoking flower in high school with a friend at their house. Thank God I didn't get high that night because I think it would have turned me off to it altogether. It was the wrong group of white people in the middle of bumfuck South Carolina. After that, I didn't really touch it again until college. And even in college, marijuana was something that simply wasn't accessible to me. I was broke in a new city (well, Winston-Salem is more of a town. Like a rest stop town.) and honestly buying anything outside of books was not on my mind. Had a horrible experience smoking freshman year (but once again, wrong group of white people, but now in bumfuck North Carolina).
It wasn't until sophomore year when I finally got the gift of a great smoke session. I had just got done babysitting for some extra cash, and bam, the mother of the person I am babysitting for pulls out this beautiful what I called at the time "stick of bud" and gave it to me. This was a) the most flower I had ever had on hand. Less than 1/8oz and b) the one of only a handful of times I had visited this person so we were on "visiting" terms still. But man, when I tell you not only did this moment solidify my relationship with this person forever and a day, that little piece of Mary Jane brought about so many great moments in college.
Remember, still a broke consumer during college, so we had to make what we had last. I had a little bowl one hitter that my dear sister had gotten me as a college gift that had seen little use. Tiny. Palmable. Great for taking on walks. And that is what we would do. Take hits and walk beautiful historic Winston-Salem. So many conversations. So many great things eaten (we were fortunate enough that all of us knew how to cook in some capacity and had access to kitchens and a George Foreman when we didn't). So many good times walking, smoking, making food. Shit you take for granted and work most of your life trying to get back to. Those experience for sure solidify those same friendships I have today.
But back to feeling empowered by cannabis' hermaphrodite-ism.  Even as a supporter of cannabis consumption in all forms, I can't help to be influenced by the global stigma around marijuana (which is only an 100-year old stigma, which in the grand scheme of history, ain't shit). With the push to tell us that it's bad for your health (which is not true. And if it were true...cigarettes?) And that it will lead into ACTUAL drug usage (our good friends at the CDC say that it's highly unlikely), I have been a silent supporter because of this. But now as we all experience our own versions of As the World Turns, I don't want to be quiet about this any longer. People need marijuana. It's one of the oldest medicinals in the world that has been snubbed by Big Pharma and is now being grabbed handed by big white business, all the while eliminating the underground culture that built the industry in the first place. But I digress. All this to say this one thing: obviously cannabis' ability to switch sex I can relate to on a personal level as a transman. Why? Because even under stress, cannabis fights to survive. And while the buds on these plants are said to not produce the same about as female plants (yes, the buds come from the female plant. Now get your head out of misogyny and read a book and/or article), they produce seeds and buds. Those seeds will produce more and those buds can smoke, are of a different variety, and is definitely better than if the plant were dead.

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