It feels like Rhode Island is normalizing cannabis in ways that haven’t yet come to the commonwealth
This is one of the most ignorant things I have ever published. I mean that in the literal sense of the word ignorant, as in I don’t have any facts or figures on hand to support what I’m talking about, but I saw something and I feel a certain way and despite being too lazy to back up my argument I am now going to scream it on down from the rafters.
In other words, this column is like ninety-five percent of what you consume on the internet and especially on social media—bile from my rotted brain reformatted and stylized to prove some kind of point I haven’t clearly thought through. So, without further ado: Rhode Island has managed to mainstream and normalize recreational cannabis culture faster and far more organically than Massachusetts.
This observation comes in part from covering the industry in Mass and occasionally noting developments over the Rhode Island border. But it’s mostly a reaction to spending a full day in Pawtucket and Providence, and feeling like I once upon a time thought it would feel in the commonwealth after recreational pot sales started a decade ago.
The Bay State is still home to intense stigmas. Look no further than news coverage flanking the move by prohibitionist nitwits to shutter dispensaries for proof that it remains as reefer mad as ever. As for subtle cues that weed is still not really welcome here, they’re everywhere, from brands and venues that avoid marijuana partnerships without legal or logical explanation, to a paywall of record that publishes prehistoric prohibitionist ponderings.
Down in the Ocean State, on the other hand, one doesn’t have to wade into the psychedelic underground or hobnob with RISD patchouli kids to tap into cannabis culture. Nor do you have to visit a dispensary to learn about new products. They’re advertised on billboards hovering in public places where young people see them and somehow don’t start shooting up fentanyl right in their arm, all while dispensaries just by and large feel less like futuristic fortresses than do a lot of shops in Mass. In my short time there I even saw a flyer at an old school red-and-white tablecloth Italian joint for a stoner paint night.
I am tempted to research this further. Especially since I’m not totally ignorant, and in reality am quite aware that the Rhode Island cannabis industry has its own list of problems. I’m not going to dig right now, though, nor will I pepper this piece with cheap cherry-picked statistics. On this one, I just trust my instinct.
