Mastering the art of the pivot within the evolving landscape of cannabis culture has been a masterclass in resilience.
As a former legacy operator, how does one speak about their past without incriminating themselves or exposing those around them? To answer my own question: I will try gingerly, but with pride, and with the pure intention of guiding others to safer waters.
Going from legacy to legal has been the wildest of rides. Until now, I have never really had the courage to speak about the reality of the situation. As a second-generation legacy member, farmer, and child of the underground drug trade, I have seen the ins and outs of the grey, black, and “legal” markets. And I have to say, I’ve met a lot of “criminals” over the years… but some of the worst humans I have ever shared a boardroom with wore white collars.
Ironically, my consulting roles often find me gently nurturing the roots and culture of legacy while simultaneously serving the needs of foreign investors and policymakers. Goose, meet gander. In my mind, the cornerstone of cannabis legalization is rooted deeply in the soil of legacy. Yet, even as an industry veteran, navigating the complexities of the legal space feels like walking through a minefield—constantly standing on the frontier of an ever-changing environment, dodging corporate cannabis snakes, witnessing the die-off of true cannabis culture, and trying to pick up lost soldiers along the way, all while hoping we make it back to basecamp in one piece.
The Backstory of a Culture
Here is a bit of my cannabis culture backstory. In 1980, at just 22 years old, my mom was arrested at Pearson Airport for smuggling hash oil from Jamaica. As the story goes, she had two Tia Maria bottles full of it in her carry-on. Luckily, a failure to convict allowed her the opportunity to start a new life out west. My mom and my godmother—a Yugoslavian refugee who was charged alongside her—eased into one another’s strength and raised my brother together during his early years. My mom continued to work within the illicit market alongside her bartending gigs, hustling wherever she could to keep groceries in the fridge and a roof over our heads. My dad, a young DJ, and my mother, the life of the party, curated some of the most epic, psychedelic, and cannabis-friendly beach parties our little town had ever seen. Fast forward a few years, and then there was me: a curly-haired wild child and a direct product of the 1980s party scene.
At 16, I left home and legally emancipated myself from my family, giving myself the right to choose my own adventure. I worked part-time, finished school, attended college, and bought my first house at 23. Cannabis, and my early introduction to black-market business, gave me a distinct edge over my peers. The exposure, even though it came with significant growing pains, helped me achieve success early on. I was always observing those around me—watching the wins, carefully minding the losses, and paying strict attention to what pushed people forward versus what kept them perpetually stuck.
As exciting as it was, it was not nearly as glamorous as it sounds. I was constantly exposed to adult environments, drug use, and addiction. Like most children of the ’80s, we kind of raised ourselves. My mom passed away when I was 21 as a result of the Red Cross tainted blood transfusion scandal. Watching her quality of life demise, coupled with the opioid overdose of my young brother, deeply motivated me to pursue a wellness-based relationship with plant medicine. I was tired of seeing people in crisis, reaching for substances that did not serve them. Over the years, I saw my mother supply compassionate care and life-saving cannabis to many friends battling cancer and other illnesses. I can unapologetically say I have witnessed and experienced the profound benefits of this plant over the alternatives.
From BC Bud to International Waters
I have been on the front lines my entire life. It is these roots that give me the confidence in my experience, the instinct, and the intuition needed to truly thrive in this legal environment. It was my entry into guerrilla farming and the famous “BC Bud” outdoor cannabis industry that truly propelled my career forward. It gave me the freedom to travel like a retiree and the ability to accomplish milestones that were normally completely out of reach for anyone in their early 20s. I was fortunate to grow up with many mentors, sharing in the collective experience of seasoned men and women who guided me through the nuances of a dangerous, complex industry. I have sat at tables with legends, been trusted with the annual income and livelihoods of others, stuffed duffle bags, and taken real, daily risks.
Rewind to 2021—peak COVID. Still rooted in legacy, my former spouse and I got the opportunity to level up into the legal market. With only one month’s notice, we moved our family to the Caribbean to build a GACP-approved medical cannabis farm for foreign investors.
While growing up, I was always guided by the moral compass and ethics of an established legacy industry. I always say, “they do not call it organized crime for nothing.” There was always a structure and a way of dealing with things that were common and mutually agreed upon by industry stakeholders. Entering the legal market with foreign investors and numerous “silent” stakeholders added an entirely new level of nuance, as I had never navigated the deep, muddy waters of international financial investments. There are serious risks and dangerous complexities to these multi-tiered international setups. It taught me a great deal about discernment, trusting my intuition, and ensuring that you truly know who you are working with, who you are working for, and what you are ultimately working towards.
I cannot share every detail of my experience as the COO of a Caribbean cannabis company. What I will say is that there were immense challenges leading a team in an emerging legal marketplace with deep legacy roots, operating within a system ripe with systemic challenges. Thankfully, it taught me that not everyone is your friend, and not everyone operates with good intentions. Many people are only out there for themselves and their wallets. As a true advocate for plant medicine and a lover of cannabis culture, this was a harsh reality to swallow. Business experiences like this truly toughen you up; you learn as you “grow.”
The New Frontier: Caribbean Tourism
Over the last year, I have invested a significant amount of time into building an international community and finding allies across many of the Caribbean islands—hearing legacy stories and meeting business owners, operators, and their families. Many are now navigating compliance levels they have never seen or experienced in their own lifetimes, learning new methods, and actively participating in the formation of the industry on their home islands. This is true resilience after years of prohibition, and I love supporting this type of action.
After spending time in Jamaica, Dominica, and Trinidad over the past year, I was deeply saddened to see the struggles that so many traditional farmers still face. I witnessed firsthand the dangers associated with cannabis production in these regions where legalization and policy are forming slowly. While corporate entities profit off activities that were once prohibited for locals, and people smoke freely in many nations, we still find fishermen and simple ganja farmers being arrested or targeted while trying to provide for their families.
Now, I do not condone illegal activities. However, we must question whether or not we can support what amounts to a death sentence for cannabis production. Many of these men are still just humble farmers, providing a highly desirable crop out of a pure passion for the plant and that way of life. They are infusing their local economies with jobs and cash—the very same communities often neglected by their own country’s leadership. We must shed light on the fact that producing this plant, despite its incredible benefits, remains a massive risk in some areas. Equitable and fair opportunity for entry into this emerging market is practically non-existent for many individuals abroad.
What does this mean for us? How does this affect us in the Western world, and what opportunities or insights can be gained from the current struggle in the Caribbean?
I see a unique opportunity for interested parties to foster community growth and build tourism relationships with our Caribbean counterparts. As someone who promotes dignified consumption, unique experiences, and equitable access, I see an open door to build lasting connections with hospitality providers and cannabis producers in the Caribbean region. While the UK and European markets are establishing highly regulated, clinical marketplaces, the Caribbean has poised itself as a more relaxed environment to partake, tour, and enjoy the benefits of this medicinal plant in a natural, lush environment teeming with life.
As an advocate for plant-based medicine and psychedelic-assisted therapies, I truly believe that set and setting play a massive factor in forming a positive, memorable experience. The richness of life on these islands lends itself beautifully to curating a safe, healing vibe for a unique cannabis experience.
In my opinion, cannabis is medicine—whether used medicinally or recreationally. We are all just looking for some form of peace when we partake, and our ability to safely enjoy and integrate those moments into our everyday lives is vital. I see plant medicine as an aid in overall health and wellness, and we have a unique opportunity to explore a new frontier of legal frameworks quietly forming across many Caribbean nations.
There is still a massive hill to climb: muddy waters, bad players, systemic corruption, a lack of funding or infrastructure, and serious social inequalities. But in the darkness, there are shining beacons of light across all sectors working behind the scenes to form policy, build frameworks, and drive the line forward through the snake pit.
From my own roots, this passion has bloomed: helping others navigate, liberate, and assist in the creation of a newly formed legal industry, all while deeply honoring the plant and its true purpose.
So friends, you know where we have been… and if you think you have your thumb on the pulse of this industry, I suggest you start focusing on the true new frontier: Caribbean Cannabis Tourism.
Renae is From BC, Canada, longtime industry member, and now founder of Infused events co, a unique Cannabis dining experience, working to break stigma one dinner party at a time.
