The magic begins in an indoor forested ecosystem that’s tended to by Holly Hillyer. Every day, she steps into full-body protective coveralls like a scientist ready for beaker wizardry. While the humans sleep at night, the plants thrive under beaming, full UV-spectrum lights atop rolling irrigation benches she designed and welded. Every detail of the plants’ lives is curated by Hillyer’s years of experience and passed-down knowledge from her parents.

It’s the second Saturday of April, and Tina Turner’s “Proud Mary” cues after anticipation. Stage lights shine to frame a frantic queen, rowing as fast as she can with a super-sized, inflatable joint as her paddle.

Carmela La Madrina is the Mother of it all; she works an adult day job, pays taxes and loves her children like anyone else. Her children, of course, are her chosen family living and thriving under her roof of The Elusive Haus of Indica.

“I never had any intention of writing about cannabis,” Dr. Kaitlin Reed, assistant professor of Native American Studies at Cal Poly Humboldt, said. “I can’t wait to not be the weed person.”

For Reed, it’s as if there was no choice in writing about cannabis. As a Yurok and Hupa tribal member witnessing environmental violations in ancestral territories and throughout U.S. history, Reed saw the urgency and concern over landscape devastation paired with the current lack of critical analysis. Modern cannabis cultivation and the market it drives are built on the same foundation of exploitation of Indigenous people by white colonizers as seen with other natural resource industries such as gold, timber and fish.

Food Feature