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In a New Cannabis Landscape, a Navy Veteran Battles for Racial Equity

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“Transforming Spaces” is a series about women driving change in sometimes unexpected places.Jam the towel under the door. Open the window. And hide the bong.For decades, college students have found ways to mask the pungent aroma of marijuana smoke on campuses. Wanda James, however, did not always feel a need to hide. A 1986 graduate of the University of Colorado Boulder, Ms. James would sit on the steps outside her dorm and roll joints with her friends.It would be decades before Colorado became one of the first two states in the country to legalize recreational cannabis, but on campus, James never worried.“The worst that would happen is they would tell us to put it away, or they might take it from us, and that was the end of it,” Ms. James recalled of the campus police.Fast forward 40 years: Ms. James, a former Navy lieutenant, is a member of her alma mater’s Board of Regents — and a prominent advocate of racial justice in the changing cannabis landscape.It wasn’t until after college that Ms. James realized she had been living in something of an alternate reality with her cannabis use. She learned how the United States’ marijuana laws have led to Black Americans’ being sentenced to prison at a higher rate than white Americans despite near equal usage rates, setting her on the mission to which she has dedicated her life.Ms. James, the chief executive of the Simply Pure dispensary in Denver, is licensing her company’s name to entrepreneurs in the cannabis industry who are from communities that had once been hotbeds of marijuana arrests.Rachel Woolf for The New York TimesMs. James, 60, has owned multiple cannabis businesses over the years, including a pair of dispensaries and an edible company, which has given her a platform to speak about what she believes to be racial injustices in the industry. She has been at the forefront of calling for cannabis legalization at the state and federal level. Federal scientists, in recent reports, have recommended easing restrictions on marijuana, a so-called Schedule I drug like heroin, and having it reclassified to a Schedule III drug, along with the likes of ketamine and testosterone.“Wanda is a force of nature!” said Senator John Hickenlooper, the former Colorado governor who named Ms. James to a task force that came up with recommendations on how to regulate marijuana in Colorado. Those recommendations became a model for the two dozen states that have since legalized the sale of cannabis in recreational dispensaries.But as more states have legalized the sale of recreational cannabis, prompting bigger companies to get involved in an industry that is increasingly mainstream, Ms. James is one of the few Black women in a leadership role. Several smaller cannabis businesses, mostly run by people of color and women — many of whom were caregivers who saw the benefits of medical marijuana for those they cared for — have been pushed out of the space, Ms. James said.In fact, ownership by women of cannabis companies fell to 16.4 percent in 2023 from 22.2 percent in 2022 with racial minorities accounting for just 18.7 percent of owners, according to a report from MJBiz Daily, a publication that covers cannabis-related legal and financial news.These days, Ms. James is not only pushing for wider cannabis legalization — recreational use of the plant is legal in 24 states and the District of Columbia but illegal on the federal level — but also for reform in the industry to ensure more people who look like her fill leadership roles.She believes that by becoming a dispensary owner, and now a leader in an industry with policies that have historically harmed Black and Latino Americans, she could reclaim some power for minorities targeted in communities that were hotbeds of marijuana arrests. In New York, for instance, state cannabis regulators documented a staggering 1.2 million marijuana arrests that disproportionately targeted Black and Latino Americans over 42 years.“There is so much happening in the industry to where it has not been a promising place that looks to diversity as a positivity right now,” she said. “We are trying to find out ways to help.”Ms. James grew up in rural Colorado on a ranch filled with dogs, rabbits, chickens and guinea pigs. Her father, a single parent and Air Force veteran, was a cowboy and they often rode horses together.As a businesswoman and a shaper of marijuana policy, Ms. James has been honored by the Colorado Women’s Chamber of Commerce and High Times Magazine, among other organizations.Rachel Woolf for The New York TimesThe penchant for caring for animals has continued. Ms. James has housed more than 30 dogs over the years, including some she found on the street. Like her father, she joined the military, becoming the first Black woman to complete the University of Colorado’s ROTC program. She served four years in the Navy before moving to Los Angeles, where she worked for two Fortune 100 companies. She also met her husband, Scott Durrah, then a property manager in West Hollywood and a fellow pot smoker, with whom she opened several restaurants in Colorado and California. Ms. James’s Rottweiler, Onyx, was the maid of honor at their wedding.While the couple were building their businesses, the country was feeling the long-term impact of President Ronald Reagan’s hard-line policies on cannabis. Mr. Reagan’s Comprehensive Crime Control Act of 1984 and Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986 — the year Ms. James graduated from college — “flooded the federal system with people convicted of low-level and nonviolent drug offenses,” according to the Brennan Center for Justice. In 2007, nearly 800,000 people were arrested for simple marijuana possession, the F.B.I. reported. About 80 percent of those arrested were Black. .“It was the demographic least likely to have a family friend that was an attorney and the least likely to have parents or family money to be able to get them out of the situation that night,” Ms. James said.Those statistics remained front of mind for Ms. James as she pursued cannabis business ownership and worked behind the scenes in politics.Ms. James at an election-night watch party in 2022. She has been at the forefront of campaigning for cannabis legalization at both state and federal levels.David Zalubowski/Associated PressIn 2008, Ms. James managed the successful congressional campaign of Jared Polis, a Democrat who was elected Colorado’s governor in 2018. The following year she and Mr. Durrah opened the Apothecary of Colorado, a medical cannabis dispensary, becoming the first African Americans to own a legal dispensary in the United States. They later closed the medical dispensary to open an edibles company, Simply Pure, which in 2015 became Simply Pure Denver, a recreational dispensary.“She’s a trailblazer,” said Tahir Johnson, a mentee of Ms. James. “When you think about a strong Black woman, that’s what she embodies.”As she became a businesswoman and a shaper of marijuana policy, she had a personal point of reference that she has returned to often in her work: her half brother, who served time in prison for offenses including marijuana possession.The cannabis industry “has not been a promising place that looks to diversity as a positivity right now,” Ms. James said.Rachel Woolf for The New York TimesMs. James has shared her journey in short documentaries produced by The Atlantic and Yahoo, and in 2018, she was named one of the 100 Most Influential People in the cannabis industry by High Times Magazine. She has used her platform to call for federal cannabis legalization, which would help dispensary owners inject some of the money they’ve been paying in taxes back into their businesses, increasing the likelihood of creating “generational wealth,” she said; because recreational cannabis is still illegal on the federal level, dispensary owners are unable to write off basic expenses, like staff salaries, unlike noncannabis businesses.And she’s tapping into her network to create change. Beginning with Mr. Johnson, her mentee, Ms. James is licensing the Simply Pure name to young entrepreneurs in the industry who are from communities harmed by racial disparities in marijuana arrests.Mr. Johnson said he had been arrested three times for marijuana possession, and he was “honored” Ms. James chose him to continue her legacy. He plans to open Simply Pure Trenton soon.“The fact that she’s trusted me to take on this mantle to this next phase of the organization means a lot to me,” he said. More

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    Oregon Town’s Marijuana Boom Yields Envy in Idaho

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    Tax revenue has surged since cannabis stores opened in Ontario, Ore., fueling a push in neighboring Idaho to legalize sales and get in on the action.For John Leeds, the hour-and-a-half commute to and from his job as assistant manager at Treasure Valley Cannabis Company is exhausting, but logistically unavoidable.Like nearly half of the other employees, Mr. Leeds, 39, lives in Idaho and travels along Interstate 84, past sprawling alfalfa and onion fields, to the marijuana shop just across the Oregon state line, where cannabis is legal.“It’s really two different worlds,” Mr. Leeds said. “A lot of whiplash on this issue just in a car ride up and down the highway.”Every day, hundreds of customers and workers like Mr. Leeds make the pilgrimage from Idaho to Ontario, Ore., a small city nestled along the Snake River that is home to 11 dispensaries — roughly one for every 1,000 residents. They can compare the aromas of various strains of marijuana and gather the staff’s insights on THC levels in edibles.The cannabis boom is helping to drive a thriving local economy — and tax revenues that have paid for new police positions, emergency response vehicles, and park and trail improvements.Missing out on the action has become increasingly frustrating to some politicians and longtime residents in Idaho, where the population and living costs have surged in recent years.Because the sale or possession of marijuana remains illegal at the federal level, many states — and in this case neighboring ones — have landed on drastically different approaches for whether and how to decriminalize, regulate and tax cannabis. Since 2012, 23 states have legalized it for recreational use, and more than three dozen allow medical marijuana.Eleven states, mostly conservative-leaning, have enacted extremely limited medical marijuana laws. Aside from cannabis-derived drugs approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration for limited medical use, Idaho has not legalized any cannabis sales — a prohibition that has helped its more progressive neighbors.“Our cannabis market caters almost exclusively to Idaho residents,” said Ontario’s mayor, Debbie Folden. “This has been an economic boom unlike any this city has seen.”The patchwork of laws, which vary by state and often by county, have created similar commuter-propelled booms in other parts of the country as well, said Mason Tvert, a partner at VS Strategies, a national cannabis policy and public affairs firm in Denver.Texans travel to Colorado to stock up on their favorite strains or edibles, and Indiana residents make the trek to Michigan, he said. “Demand will be met by either the illegal market or by a legal market in another state,” Mr. Tvert said.That proposition, and the larger economic equation, are not lost on officials in Idaho.Last year, the state approached two million residents, a swell attributed largely to people moving from California and looking for overall cheaper costs of living. Only Florida grew faster.At the same time, property taxes have increased 20 percent since 2018, according to a report from the Idaho Center for Fiscal Policy, a nonpartisan group. And the state’s budget — currently showing a surplus — is expected to come under strain, the group noted, citing legislation that cut income taxes by roughly $500 million over three years even as population growth put new demands on health care, education and transportation.Some longtime residents of the state are tired of seeing the marijuana tax dollars go elsewhere as prices increase from the newer residents arriving.Legalizing and taxing cannabis sales could bring in revenue and help offset any budgetary concerns, said Joe Evans, a lead organizer for Kind Idaho, a group pushing to legalize medical marijuana.“That money should not be leaving the state of Idaho,” said Joe Evans, who supports the legalization of medical marijuana in the state.Ellen Hansen for The New York Times“That money should not be leaving the state of Idaho,” said Mr. Evans, who noted the entrepreneurial spirit of the region, home to Joe Albertson, who started a local grocery store chain, Albertsons, and laid the foundation for a multibillion-dollar national business.But for Mr. Evans, who served with the Army in Iraq and Afghanistan and knows fellow veterans who use cannabis for pain relief, legalization is also about something bigger than money. It is long past time, he said, for his state to legalize a substance that can offer relief for some medical conditions.Patients who use marijuana, especially older or chronically ill Idahoans, shouldn’t have to drive an hour or more to Oregon, he said.“This is about patient advocacy,” said Mr. Evans, who hopes the state will next year consider a measure to legalize cannabis for medicinal use.It would not be the first try.Initiatives to legalize cannabis for medicinal use failed to qualify for the ballot in 2012, 2014 and 2016. In 2020, supporters of a ballot measure suspended efforts to gather signatures because of the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic, and the next year a bipartisan group of state lawmakers introduced a medical marijuana bill that failed to get out of committee.As those efforts foundered, customers in Idaho increasingly made the trek to Oregon, where voters legalized cannabis for medical use in 1998 and for recreational use in 2014.Ontario, Ore., is home to 11 dispensaries — roughly one for every 1,000 residents.Ellen Hansen for The New York TimesFew areas in the state have benefited as much as Malheur County, home to Ontario.The city, which voted to legalize local recreational sales of marijuana in 2018, is the only part of the county with dispensaries. Even so, Malheur County racked up roughly $104 million in total cannabis sales last year, outpacing each of the state’s 35 other counties except Multnomah, which includes Portland.In 2020, the first full year in which Ontario allowed cannabis sales, the city took in $1.8 million in resulting tax revenue. The next year, the revenue increased 65 percent.The area is a conservative pocket in a progressive state — a movement called “Greater Idaho” wants the region to secede from Oregon and become part of Idaho — and Mayor Folden, an Ontario native, calls herself a conservative Republican.That hasn’t blocked the city’s emergence as a cannabis capital. The tax revenues, the mayor said, have been a municipal lifeline. But the city is stockpiling its reserves, Ms. Folden said, because she expects that within five years, Idaho will move ahead with some form of legalization.Treasure Valley Cannabis is one of the businesses that have led to a surge in tax revenue for Malheur County.Ellen Hansen for The New York Times“We know that this will not last forever, so we’re being prudent,” Ms. Folden said. “We know the economic winds, as they say, might shift.”In the fall, a poll for The Idaho Statesman, a Boise newspaper, found that 68 percent of residents backed legalizing marijuana for medicinal purposes. For recreational use, 48 percent supported legalization, while 41 percent were opposed.Gov. Brad Little of Idaho, who is in his second term, staunchly opposes marijuana legalization. In an emailed statement, Mr. Little, a Republican, said that “legalization of marijuana triggers numerous unintended consequences.”But some local politicians in Idaho have begun to consider the economics of the issue.Patrick Bageant, a Boise councilman, said the need for alternative forms of tax revenue was increasingly urgent.“Legalizing marijuana can help bring in different forms of cash,” Mr. Bageant said. “Just look around the country — we as a state should be more forward-looking.”Adam Watkins, a software engineer and a constituent of Mr. Bageant’s, has lived in the city’s West End neighborhood for the past decade. His home value has doubled since 2018, when he paid $3,200 in property taxes; now he pays close to $4,200.“You look around at other states that have legalized marijuana decades ago, when it comes to medical marijuana, and you just cannot help but think, why are we so backward on this issue?” said Mr. Watkins, who supports legalization for philosophical and fiscal reasons.“This is a drug with proven health effects, and we are just leaving this issue to other states to solve,” he added. “We are turning blindly, like this is not an issue, when it clearly is.”Back in Ontario on a recent afternoon, red, white and blue license plates emblazoned with the phrase “Scenic Idaho” lined the parking lot of Treasure Valley Cannabis. (A federal law prohibits transporting marijuana between states.)John Leeds commutes an hour and a half to and from his job at Treasure Valley Cannabis, where he manages a staff of 45.Ellen Hansen for The New York TimesMr. Leeds manages a staff of 45 employees four days a week. He used to work five days, but made a deal with the owner, Jeremy Archie, to work four to cut back on his commute.That day, Mr. Leeds and Mr. Archie walked the floor past vape pens, various strains of cannabis, and sweatshirts acclaiming the company and the state.They greeted customers and shared stories of patients battling health issues like cancer, who use their products to ease pain. On one wall hung a poster board proclaiming a 25 percent discount for customers car-pooling with at least three people.A small gesture of thanks, Mr. Archie said, for their Idaho customers.“The Idaho market has made this a very successful business,” he said. More