In 2020, just before the COVID pandemic hit and the week prior to Virginia closing all its schools, I received some of the worst news of my life. The principal of my then seven-year-old daughter's school called me. "Hello, Mrs. Miller, this is Dr. Bryce Johnson from Tyler Elementary," he said. As he explained that my sweet little girl had been sexually assaulted by another student, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I was dizzy, but then I gathered myself. "WHAT?!?!" My daughter had endured violent sexual assaults for almost two school years. As the information connected in my mind, I grabbed my sweatpants and declared, "I'm on my way."
You need me to smoke this blunt.
I spoke to the Chair of the Hampton Branch NAACP, Gaylene Kanoyton, and the then-chair of the school board, Ann Stevens Cherry, that night. Ann Cherry stated, "After I finish speaking with you, I’m going to call Jeffrey Smith, the then-superintendent." From that point forward, I became persona non grata. The mayor called me a liar from the city council dais. I had known this smug individual since I was five years old, but he called me a liar regarding my daughter’s repeated and violent sexual assaults. Anton Bell, the Commonwealth Attorney, didn’t even have enough respect for my family to pick up the phone but had no problem contacting the press and making excuses for why the student who raped my child wasn't criminally charged. I had helped most of these elected officials get into office – directly and indirectly. To be shunned as if I hadn’t paid my dues felt invasive. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
You need me to smoke this blunt.
The chairmanship of the school board changed. Dr. Richard Mason took over. Unaffectionately known as “Rick the Dick,” this man became a royal pain in my colon. He's one of those Black men that make you question whether he’s truly Black or just permanently wearing blackface. When I asked him if he even knew who I was without any further conversation, he smugly replied, “I’ve seen your face,” with a superimposed smile fresh out of Django Unchained. It went so far that Ann Cherry emphatically stated, “To speak before the school board is a privilege, not a right.” I beg your pardon, bitch? Then, after attending a community event, Rick the Dick filed a protective order against me, claiming I had launched myself at him in front of over a dozen people. The irony? I was non-weightbearing on one foot – if I had done what he said, I would have fallen flat on my face. He did this to keep me out of elected spaces prior to the gubernatorial election in 2021, which he succeeded in doing. In the hearing, the judge denied the request, stating, “Dr. Mason, you haven’t proven that Mrs. Miller ever posed a threat to you.”
You need me to smoke this blunt.
My daughter, now 11, has found her voice. She has begun to speak her own truths and has asked for my support as she ventures out to tell her story, which I’ve gladly given. She spoke before the school board and called them cowards to their faces for not protecting her. A proud mama bear, I followed her and gave the board the venom that she could not. At the next city council meeting, she signed up to speak. As she began, Donnie Tuck, the mayor of the city of Hampton, interrupted her and refused to let her finish, stating that the city council has no control over the school board. She stood there - brave and indignant – and said, “THIS IS INSANE!” She went to the following city council meeting, signed up to speak, and was purposefully skipped over. When I put in a Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) request for the footage from the lobby showing her signing up to speak, they gave me everything BUT what I asked for.
You need me to smoke this blunt.
“She Speaks Politics” is not just a username – it’s who I am. This is my arena, and election season is my Super Bowl. I’ve reached out to every member of the General Assembly and the State Senate, to the Governor, the Lieutenant Governor, and the Attorney General. Last legislative session, Celeste’s Law – a comprehensive piece of legislation that would require bathrooms to be regularly inspected – went before the K-12 Education Subcommittee and the Education Subcommittee with unanimous support, only to be shelved. This no-cost bill was pushed into Appropriations to die, ineligible for crossover. Did this have to do with the sponsor of the bill being a Republican? I won’t speculate. But Don Scott let this bill die, and now the quest for legislative remedy has been lost until next year.
YOU. NEED. ME. TO. SMOKE. THIS. BLUNT.
You WANT me to smoke this blunt. You NEED me to smoke this blunt! Because Colonel Jessup hath NO FURY like someone righteously fighting for the future of their community and their children.
Marijuana usage has been decriminalized in the Commonwealth with some legalization for medical and recreational use. Yet, where market opportunities for THC and CBD distribution were promised to returning citizens with drug convictions, almost no one in that demographic can afford the licensing. So the same results from the microbrewery market legislation have replicated themselves in the legal cannabis market. If you don’t have money, you can kiss those opportunities goodbye. Then, due to tight regulatory control, the quality of the product we receive in Virginia does not match that of the Western and Pacific Northwest states, creating a black market cannabis market the size of the legal market or larger.
Even the federal government's stance is shifting – last year, President Biden initiated a review to potentially reschedule marijuana, moving it to a category comparable to anabolic steroids and ketamine. Is this a perfect resolution? No. But the goal is to regulate marijuana on par with cigarettes and alcohol. This change marks a significant step towards acknowledging the medicinal and recreational benefits of marijuana while ensuring its safety and accessibility. By moving away from outdated classifications, the government aims to reduce the stigma associated with marijuana use and pave the way for more comprehensive research and regulation. This shift could also alleviate some of the legal and social burdens faced by individuals and communities disproportionately affected by the previous stringent policies.
Last legislative session, the opportunity to expand legal marijuana sales in the Commonwealth was thwarted. Even with passage in the General Assembly and State Senate, the legislation was not filibuster-proof and died with Governor Youngkin’s veto. Even with regulation and taxation additions, Republican legislators in the Commonwealth can’t be seen passing marijuana retail market opportunities. I don’t have to agree to understand. It also seems like the entire Senate and General Assembly can’t be seen passing legislation to protect our children from sexual assault in public schools. But of course, I’m not one to gossip.
You need me to smoke this blunt.
I have a legal Medicinal Marijuana Certificate from the Commonwealth – mainly for my nerve pain, but also due to childhood trauma, PTSD, and a Chronic Diagnosis of “Motherfucker Please” stemming from years of enduring bullying and navigating bullshit bureaucratic hurdles. This diagnosis, while tongue-in-cheek, reflects the pervasive challenges and frustrations I've faced in advocating for justice and reform. Cannabis has become a vital tool in my self-care arsenal, providing relief from physical pain and emotional distress alike.
In those moments when the weight of injustice threatens to overwhelm me, a well-selected strain of sativa or indica can mean the difference between succumbing to despair and finding the strength to engage in thoughtful dialogue and action. It's not just about getting high; it's about reclaiming agency over my own well-being in a system that often fails to prioritize the needs of marginalized individuals like myself and my daughter.
The medicinal and therapeutic benefits of marijuana are undeniable, yet accessing these benefits remains a challenge for many, especially those from marginalized communities disproportionately affected by harsh drug policies. While strides have been made in decriminalization and limited legalization, barriers to access persist, including prohibitive licensing fees and regulatory hurdles that prevent equitable participation in the burgeoning cannabis industry.
As we navigate this evolving landscape, it's essential to advocate for policies that prioritize equity, justice, and compassion. Cannabis legalization presents an opportunity not only to address the injustices of the past but also to build a more inclusive and compassionate future. By centering the voices and needs of those most affected by prohibition and criminalization, we can create a cannabis industry that benefits all, regardless of race, class, or circumstance.
So, when I say "You need me to smoke this blunt," it's not just a statement of personal preference; it's a declaration of resilience and resistance in the face of adversity. It's a reminder that self-care is an act of defiance in a world that too often seeks to diminish and dehumanize us. And it's a call to action to continue fighting for justice, equality, and liberation, both in the realm of cannabis reform and beyond. You need me to smoke this blunt so that I can be fully present in my activism and advocacy for little brown girls who just want to be able to learn without fear. Girls like Celeste. Girls like me.
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For more information on my daughter’s violent sexual assaults and our advocacy for her, go to www.8forCeleste.org
