Up until I left Jamaica, I had never been really close to the Cannabis Sativa plant. I knew what it smelled like (sort of) and I knew what it looked like from pictures. But my goody-two-shoes-persona would not have allowed me to fraternize too closely with the substance I knew had sent my cousin, Snoopy, off his rockers.
I also knew that when most of the men I grew up with smoked it, they were freer with their hands on my body, quicker to violence and less inclined to go to work. So whenever I heard that there was going to be weed somewhere, I absented myself, thus, preventing my ever having had to refuse it outright. Back then I didn’t even drink.
Cut to life in America on the artist-circuit. I’ve never seen coke or heroine or meth, but I have heard that they were present in some rooms I have occupied. But Marijuana is everywhere. These lesbians in New York have bongs and blunts and joints and brownies and a whole lot of other shit I can’t spell. Come to think of it, Denver dykes are no different, nor are the lesbians from Lansing. Drugs are simply a part of contemporary adult life in Urban America. (I just realized that these confessions may make it impossible for me to run for president later, but what the hell!)
Anyways, not only did I have to constantly refuse to take a toke over and over and over again, I had to also explain why the Jamaican girl with the big afro was anti-Mary Jane and her talents. I heard every pro-weed argument in the book: weed makes you more in-tune with your higher self; good grass will make me really enjoy sex; it makes chocolate better; it makes me less uptight (as if I mind being uptight!); weed will make me more fertile; weed will increase the amount in my bank account; weed will bring Jesus to me; weed is a gift from Jesus; weed will make Bush a human rights activist. Weed, in the art world, is seen as the rebel drug that has survived the cruel tactics of right wing government through the ages.
In my heart of hearts I wanted to try this miracle drug. It seemed like it could fix all my problems. I lie awake at night imagining that what my life would be like if I were a