This Black History Month, Simply Rescheduling Marijuana Isn’t Enough While Cannabis Prisoners Remain Behind Bars

*“Rescheduling…does not free a single person from prison, clear a single
criminal record or repair the racial harm created by decades of cannabis
prohibition.”*

*By Stephanie Shepard, Last Prisoner Project*

Every Black History Month, we are asked to reflect on how far our country
has come, and to honor progress, resilience and the long fight for racial
justice. That history includes not only landmark civil rights victories,
but also the policies that followed them, including the war on drugs, which
for decades has been used to police, punish and destabilize Black
communities under the guise of public safety.

This year, that reflection comes at a moment of real movement on cannabis
policy.

President Donald Trump’s decision to move forward with rescheduling
marijuana under federal law signals a long-overdue acknowledgment that
cannabis never belonged alongside the most dangerous substances in our
criminal code, a classification that helped justify decades of racially
disproportionate arrests, prosecutions and prison sentences.

That step deserves credit. But it also demands honesty. Rescheduling may
shift policy going forward, but it does nothing for the people still living
with the consequences of the past. It does not free a single person from
prison, clear a single criminal record or repair the racial harm created by
decades of cannabis prohibition.

I know this firsthand. More than a decade ago, I was sentenced to ten years
in federal prison for a first-time, nonviolent cannabis offense. I lost
nearly a decade of my life for conduct that is now legal in much of the
country.

When I came home, cannabis storefronts were opening across the country,
investors were getting rich and politicians were patting themselves on the
back for “ending prohibition.” Meanwhile, people like me were expected to
quietly rebuild our lives while thousands of others remained behind bars.

That contradiction sits at the heart of cannabis policy in America today.

The war on drugs has always been a racial justice issue.

For decades, Black and Brown communities were disproportionately targeted,
policed, prosecuted and incarcerated for cannabis, despite similar usage
rates across racial lines. Black Americans are still more than three times
as likely to be arrested for marijuana possession than white Americans.
Those arrests led to convictions, lengthy prison sentences and lifelong
barriers to housing, employment, education and voting.

Today, cannabis is a multibillion-dollar industry. States collect tax
revenue, companies go public and politicians celebrate “progress.” But tens
of thousands of people remain incarcerated for cannabis-related conduct,
and millions more live with the collateral consequences of past convictions.

Legalization has created opportunity for some, while leaving behind the
very communities that paid the highest price for prohibition.

That is why reform cannot stop at rescheduling or legalization alone.

If we are serious about justice, cannabis reform must include retroactive
relief for those serving sentences that would never be imposed today. It
must include automatic expungement of criminal records that continue to
lock people out of jobs, housing and education. And it must include
meaningful reentry support so that people coming home are not punished
again for surviving incarceration.

At Last Prisoner Project, a national nonprofit dedicated to freeing people
incarcerated for cannabis offenses and repairing the harms of cannabis
criminalization, I work every day with people who have been waiting years,
sometimes decades, for relief. Our organization provides direct legal
representation to those still behind bars, supports families separated by
incarceration and helps people returning home access housing, employment
and other critical resources.

Almost every day, I hear from mothers who missed their children growing up,
from fathers who have watched the world change through prison walls and
from people who were punished not for violence, but for participating in an
underground economy created by prohibition itself. Their lives were shaped
by laws that lawmakers now openly admit were wrong, yet they remain trapped
by their consequences.

I believe we can do better, because I have seen what justice looks like
when it finally arrives. I have watched people walk out of prison after
decades and reunite with their families. I have seen records cleared, doors
reopened and futures restored.

That work does not happen on its own. Organizations like Last Prisoner
Project depend on public support, and on partnership from the legal
cannabis industry itself, to provide legal representation, support families
separated by incarceration, help people returning home rebuild their lives
and push for the policy changes needed to end these injustices for good.

As companies profit from a legal market built on the end of prohibition,
they have both the opportunity and the responsibility to help repair the
harm prohibition caused.

As we reflect this month on freedom, resilience and progress, we should
remember that the fight for racial justice did not end with the passage of
a bill or the opening of a dispensary. It continues wherever people remain
incarcerated and excluded for conduct that society has legalized,
normalized and turned into profit.

*Stephanie Shepard is executive director of the Last Prisoner Project, a
nonprofit dedicated to freeing those incarcerated for cannabis offenses and
repairing the harms of cannabis criminalization. She served nearly ten
years in federal prison for a first-time, nonviolent cannabis offense.*

The post This Black History Month, Simply Rescheduling Marijuana Isn’t
Enough While Cannabis Prisoners Remain Behind Bars appeared first on Marijuana
Moment.