The War on Drugs Isn’t Over, It’s Just Rebranded

Photo by cottonbro studio

Weed’s legal (in Canada) but Black and Indigenous people are still being overpoliced.

Canada may have legalized weed, but let’s not act like the work is done. The storefronts are clean, the branding is sleek, and the cannabis is taxed, but behind the glossy veneer of legalization lies a truth we can’t ignore:

The War on Drugs didn’t end. It just changed its outfit.

Legal for Some. Risky for Others.

In theory, legalization was supposed to level the playing field. Decriminalize possession. Create opportunities. End the cycle of incarceration for low-level drug offenses.

But in practice? The numbers tell a different story.

Black and Indigenous communities in Canada are still being disproportionately stopped, searched, and charged—even as weed is sold legally by corporations that profit off the same plant people were criminalized for possessing.

According to reports from multiple provinces, racial disparities in cannabis enforcement persist post-legalization, particularly when it comes to public consumption, parole violations, and “discretionary” policing. And it’s not just Canada. In states across the U.S., legalization hasn’t stopped overpolicing either—it’s just shifted the boundaries.

Who’s Locked Out of the Legal Market?

While multi-million dollar cannabis companies celebrate quarterly earnings, the people most harmed by prohibition are still locked out of the industry. The barriers are real:

• Startup costs and license fees most working-class people can’t afford

• Strict background checks that penalize prior convictions

• Gatekeeping by regulators and private equity investors

• Tokenized “equity programs” that lack real funding or follow-through

  
  

This isn’t equity, it’s exploitation with a friendly brand name.

Meanwhile, white executives with zero connection to the culture or community continue to profit off cannabis, reaping rewards built on the backs of those who were criminalized for doing the same thing.

Policing Isn’t Gone, It’s Just Subtler Now

Photo by cottonbro studio

Let’s talk about enforcement.

Cannabis may be “legal,” but enforcement around public use, zoning laws, and parole restrictions continues to disproportionately affect marginalized people. In some areas, Black and Indigenous people are up to five times more likely to be ticketed or arrested for violating vague cannabis regulations—even when the product is legally purchased.

And then there’s the over-surveillance of communities that were already overpoliced before legalization. Weed just became another reason to stop and search.

So What Now?

Legalization without justice is just gentrified prohibition. We can’t celebrate “progress” if it only benefits those who were never targeted in the first place.

What’s needed:

• Automatic expungement of past cannabis-related convictions

• Funded, community-led equity programs with real ownership pathways

• Reinvestment into neighborhoods harmed by the War on Drugs

• Culturally competent policing reform, not more performative policy shifts

• Amplification of Black and Indigenous entrepreneurs in the space—beyond tokenism

  
  

Final Puff

Photo by Diego Barros

Weed isn’t just a product. It’s a plant that’s been used to justify decades of harm. And while it’s now sold in slick packaging at boutique dispensaries, the injustice hasn’t gone up in smoke.

Until Black and Indigenous people have equal access, equal protection, and equal opportunity in the cannabis space—The War on Drugs isn’t over. It’s just rebranded.