Cannabis In America On The 50th Anniversary Of Hip-Hop

By Fab 5 Freddy

Yes, yes, y’all! The history of cannabis is deeply connected to the history of music, and it’s critical to consider that intersection today on 4/20 – a date widely embraced as a national holiday by cannabis fan (and made popular at the mainstream level thanks in part to musical legends The Grateful Dead) – during the year we are celebrating the 50th anniversary of hip-hop.

Both cannabis and hip-hop have long been a part of my life. Coming up in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, in the early 1970s, as a graffiti artist and a progenitor of New York City hip-hop (as well as its emissary to youth across the country as the host of Yo! MTV Raps), cannabis was ubiquitous in my circles – but for most of my life, and throughout the existence of hip-hop, it was also illegal.

Federally, it remains so today. But 21 states have legalized adult use of cannabis, and an additional six states are in the legalization process. Just as laws have shifted, so, too, have attitudes: a Pew Research Center survey from last October showed that an overwhelming share of U.S. adults (88%) say that the plant should be legal for medical or recreational use by adults. 

We celebrate the 50th anniversary of hip-hop at an inflection point for cannabis: we have a real opportunity to put cannabis currency back into the communities hurt the most by its criminalization. Good faith efforts at equity-based licensing for justice-involved individuals who wish to open dispensaries like those in place in New York are essential to this work. After living for nearly 80 years under racist laws – to say nothing of the avalanche of lies about this beneficial medicinal plant – regulators have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to level the playing field for people in the communities most impacted by the War on Drugs. 

And as the industry grows, it’s critical that we have collaboration among cannabis businesses of all sizes – we can’t move cannabis acceptance forward if we don’t all work together. Big companies have influence and resources; small companies often have organic experience, innovative marketing ideas, community impact and grit. There’s still pockets of resistance out there, especially among older folks who oppose cannabis shops in certain parts of Manhattan – including on Harlem’s famed 125th Street, where beloved Jewish jazz clarinet player, Mezz Mezzrow, sold his consistently good cannabis outside of the Apollo Theatre in the 1930s. (So good, in fact, Fats Waller name dropped him in his 1943 song "You're a Viper (The Reefer Song)," singing “I dreamed about a reefer five feet long / a mighty mezz, but not too strong.")

It's not surprising that some Black folks are skeptical. According to the government’s own estimates, between 1982 and 2007, more that 14.5 million Americans were arrested for violating cannabis laws. Even in an age where decriminalization laws are on the rise, police still arrest people of color on cannabis-related charges at a disproportionate rate. For example, in 2022, people of color comprised 81.5 percent of those arrested for cannabis-related charges in New York City's five boroughs, even though Black and white people use cannabis at similar rates.

Cannabis prohibition at the federal level began in 1937; 33 years later, it was classified as a Schedule 1 controlled substance alongside heroin. In 2019, my Netflix documentary ”Grass is Greener,” I aimed to uncover why was cannabis prohibited in the first place. How could a mild intoxicant used as herbal medicine in ancient China and India known to grow wildly cause so much fear that it necessitated a war? 

The short answer: endemic racism and xenophobia. Before cannabis was the drug of choice for rappers, it was used by Black jazz musicians. And “marijuana” was popularized by anti-cannabis crusaders as a propaganda tool pushing anti-immigrant sentiments. 

Is it any wonder, then, that hip-hop developed its own rich vocabulary for cannabis? Taking a page from the greats like Cab Calloway, who popularized the term “reefer,” and Stuff Smith, a jazz violinist talking “jive,” artists like Snoop Dog brought us “chronic” and “kush,” Redman taught the world to roll blunts, and Cypress Hill memorably rapped about enjoying hits from a bong. The language allowed hip-hop artists to take cannabis back from those who would demonize it and assert a modicum of control amid a spiraling war on cannabis – one that by the 1980s was putting disproportionate numbers of Black and Brown men in prison for lengthy sentences for simple possession charges. (Keep in mind, there have been no deaths ever attributed to cannabis use, whereas more than 106,000 persons in the U.S. died from drug-involved overdose in 2021.)

In my film, I tell the story of Bernard Noble, a father who was sentenced to 13 years of hard labor by the Louisiana courts, without the possibility of parole, for having less than 3 grams of cannabis in his possession – the equivalent of about two joints. 

Today, Bernard, who was released from prison in 2018 after serving seven years, is the namesake of B NOBLE, my cause-based cannabis brand launched in 2021 working closely with Curaleaf, one of the larger cannabis players, who fully support our efforts and have put our B Noble brand on the shelves in 9 states across the USA. Stories like Bernard’s highlight both the conditions that put him in prison and the challenges of life after release. For those who have experienced our justice system first-hand, finding employment, housing and reconnecting in communities remains arduous and can lead to recidivism. Giving opportunities for people like Bernard to benefit from the burgeoning adult-use market is a necessary step toward reparation. Black entrepreneurs only account for 2 percent of all cannabis businesses today – B Noble is an example we need to see more of, and we can and must do better.

I am a strong proponent of programs that advance racial and social equity in the industry, which are a first step in correcting the injustices and collateral consequences caused by the War on Drugs. Yet in my home state of New York, this well-intentioned effort has run into significant delays in their attempt to get this right: in the two years since NY authorized adult-use cannabis, it has licensed only 66 retailers in the state, but just five have opened their doors to the public. Meanwhile, there are countless illegal shops selling unregulated and untested cannabis out of storefronts and mobile dispensaries. At the same time, those of us developing cause-based community-centered brands are anxiously waiting for an opportunity to offer our products to adult-use customers in a state rich with cannabis culture and history.

As a lifelong New Yorker, I remain convinced that we can have the most diverse and progressive cannabis economy in the country and world. But we need to work together before our vision goes up in smoke. 

Fab 5 Freddy is a NYC-based visual artist, filmmaker, and hip-hop pioneer. His cannabis brand B Noble is dedicated to increasing public awareness of Bernard Noble, a victim of the war on drugs.