There I was, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, soaking up the unfortunate reality of democratic regression at Marcha da Maconha (Weed March) in São Paulo, São Paulo, Brazil. This wasn't your average weekend stroll through São Paulo’s famous (sometimes infamous) Avendia Paulista, but rather the street housed a spirited protest against Brazil's PEC 45. For those who don't keep up with the latest in international legislative tragedies, PEC 45 is an amendment aiming to criminalize the possession of any quantity of illegal drugs. Yes, you read that right—any quantity. Especially marijuana, because, you know, that's the real menace to society and not raging capitalism and its offspring consumerism.
I’m a nonbinary, genderfluid dude from Houston, Texas, so I often feel like the world is taking one giant step back. This march was no exception. I couldn't help but think, "Wow, it's 2024, and here we are, fighting over PLANTS, GIRL???" Sometimes it does indeed feel like the entire world is regressing.
But if I’m anything it’s cautiously optimistic. There's a silver lining in every cloud of cannabis smoke. This moment in time serves as an eye-opener, a magnifying glass on the realities we live under as people. Marcha da Maconha was more than a protest—it was a vivid reminder of our interconnected struggles and shared hopes. There were Free Palestine stickers, signs advocating for abortion rights, and, of course, the long justified call to legalize cannabis. The message was clear: our battles are linked, and we thrive when solidarity is our first priority.
If you’re a human being with an antiracist heart, the thought of more people, particularly black people, spending their lives in jail for possessing a bit of greenery feels like a gross misuse of state resources. And yes, the war on drugs largely kills black people according to a paper written by Nathália Oliveira and Eduardo Ribeiro published in the International Journal on Human Rights. We need fewer people in prison, not more. And we certainly don't need policies that worsen racial disparities in any country’s justice system. It's high time we recognize that criminalizing drug possession does more harm than good.
At the march, I captured some poignant images that perfectly encapsulated the spirit of the protest. You can find the images and their translations below:
Usuário não é criminoso | User is not a criminal
1. Usuário não é criminoso | User is not a criminal
A democracia também é vítima da Guerra às Drogas | Democracy too is a victim of the War on Drugs
2. A democracia também é vítima da Guerra às Drogas | Democracy too is a victim of the War on Drugs
Derrotar a PEC45 e o PL1904: Pela vida das mulheres e da juventude, legalizar as drogas e o aborto | Defeat PEC45 and PL1904: For the lives of women and youth, legalize drugs and abortion
3. Derrotar a PEC45 e o PL1904: Pela vida das mulheres e da juventude, legalizar as drogas e o aborto | Defeat PEC45 and PL1904: For the lives of women and youth, legalize drugs and abortion
O hipócrita se espanta, mas maconha é só uma planta | The hypocrite is surprised, marijuana is just a plant
4. O hipócrita se espanta, mas maconha é só uma planta | The hypocrite is surprised, marijuana is just a plant
The botanical truth is cannabis is fun and simply a plant. Aliens are looking down at us humans, chuckling at how puny and weak we must be for fearing the power of a mere plant. Despite the absurdity of the situation, there was an undeniable sense of camaraderie among the protesters. We weren't just fighting for the right to enjoy a plant; we were standing up for democracy, women's rights, and the lives of black youth. It was a beautiful, chaotic, and deeply necessary reminder that our struggles are interconnected.
So, while it might feel like the world is regressing, remember that we're not alone in our fight or our sorrows. There is strength in our collective resistance, and every step we take during these marches is a step toward a more just world.