As I approach the modest looking house in the middle of an average neighborhood in central Texas, I begin to smell the faint hints of marijuana smoke. I follow the small sidewalk up to the door where the smell is unmistakable. I knock twice.

"Come in!" A collection of voices call out.

Four smiling faces greet me as I enter the attractively furnished living room. We all exchange small talk for a moment as I settle into the rotation. I look around the room, letting my senses enjoy the pungent smell of incense and the faint whisper of freesia coming from a candle on the gray coffee table in front of me. I lean back on the black futon, immediately relaxing in the mellow atmosphere. The separating tray on the shelf reminds me to dig in my bag for my water bottle. I know that I will need it soon. As if reading my thoughts, a large joint is passed from my left.

An athletic-looking white woman with red cornrows smiles as she exhales a tremendous hit from the same joint she just passed. She hands me the joint, "cherry" up so that neither of us will be burned. Renee smokes a lot of weed. She is quick to tell you about her joint rolling skills, her extensive collection of paraphernalia, or how fast she can roll a blunt. All of these things are true about her, though. I watch her blue eyes intensify as they redden, but these half-closed eyes never miss a thing. Renee knows marijuana culture - she has been involved in it since she and her friend Scarlet tried it in seventh grade. Since that first taste of the "sweet green," Renee has even grown a spectacular plant named Jane. Renee is a self-proclaimed "doer and a dealer" and smokes daily for marijuana’s medicinal benefits. Not only does weed help with her migraine headaches, anxiety disorders, and depression, but she also enjoys being part of the smoking community. As her "doer/dealer" title implies, she participates in the community, but also enjoys providing the adhesive for that community (marijuana). She knows how to sell to make money, she knows how to get good deals, and she understands how it all works. She is a hustler, but only when she needs to be. I appreciate this about her.

My eyes leave Renee as she gets up for water. Continuing the rotation, I pass the joint to Justin. Justin is an attractive, African American man who is known throughout the area as a fair and very loyal dealer. He describes himself as a dealer, and enjoys providing people with herb. His face lights up as he tells stories of selling bud to the most unlikely people. Justin’s easy demeanor enables him to do business with a variety of people, and because of this, he "gets to smoke with everyone: hippies, hood rats, prostitutes, normal cats, or 50 year-old landlords." I watch him receive and smoke from the joint as if it were second nature. Having been smoking the longest out of the group, Justin knows a lot about marijuana. He can roll a fast blunt, sees pounds of weed a week, and can tell you how many grams are in a quarter pound. This interesting and very knowledgeable man brings new perspective and contradiction to the circle.

The joint continues its journey around the circle, landing on Nikki, a "hippie, college student" who is a self-proclaimed activist, and can hold her own in any smoking situation. Nikki is the newest smoker of the group, but now uses marijuana daily to help her cope with stress, and enjoys smoking recreationally with friends. Whenever Nikki talks about weed her face lights up and she leans forward with interest. Nikki loves marijuana. As if to reward her, Justin gets up from the small gray couch to hand Nikki the joint. She lovingly receives the small gift and lifts it to her lips for a long drag. Her eyes close for a moment as she holds in the hit, allowing the smoke to caress her lungs for as long as possible. She exhales a small cloud that lingers in front of her. Her hemp bracelet slides down her arm as she reaches to ash the joint. Nikki’s Buddhist nature immediately puts people at ease around her. Her warm aura adds to the pleasant mood of the room. Nikki takes another hit from the joint. Coughing, she passes it to Renee… completing the joint’s third rotation.

This collection of people may seem random and very different, but each shares an intense love for smoking pot. Each of these smokers dedicates copious amounts of time to giving the herb attention. They smoke any time they have "five spare seconds." Renee and Justin brag that they go through about an ounce a day together. As Renee says, "if I am not eating, sleeping, or going to class, then I am smoking pot." Although Renee, Justin, and Nikki seem to have little in common, their bond through marijuana bridges the gaps between them. It creates a common ground, a playing field where anyone is welcome to play. The three individuals in the rotation with me are experienced players; they are the ones who know the special moves, who have perfected their tricks, and can really play well. These skills took hours of practice to perfect, but they have been dedicated. This small sample of pot smokers serves as a microcosm for the larger community of pot smokers in Texas. Although there are thousands of varieties of stoners, these three in particular demonstrate how the larger community of pot smokers does not agree about all aspects of the plant’s future. Similar to the larger picture, these smokers do not agree exactly on how or if their favorite pasttime should be legal. While incorporating their own styles of activism to support pot culture, each agrees that marijuana is wonderful, but opinions differ on other weed-related issues.

With this in mind, I think back to previous conversations the four of us have had about marijuana and marijuana related activism. As a devoted and somewhat militant activist myself, I listened with interest as the smokers explained their feelings about protests in general. Renee began the conversation explaining that she felt that voting for weed-friendly candidates in order to work within the system would greatly contribute to the larger movement’s success.

Nikki agrees. "We can yell all we want, but until we actually do something, nothing will get done." The four of us nod our heads in agreement.

Justin’s eyes flash with understanding as he leans forward, "Word. I agree, I think protests work if your voice is loud enough. You will be heard if people can work together to make others listen." He shakes his head with the conviction of his collective thought. He continues, "kind of like the Civil Rights Movement once people started working together. Then people actually listened and they changed things!"

As if speaking directly to the contradictions that exist within the larger marijuana culture, Justin’s personal opinions hint at the fragmented movements focusing on legalization, Hemp taxation, retribution for non-violent drug offenders, and medicinal marijuana. A diversified choir has been trained and has been practicing, but the harmony that can exist in a collection of voices cannot be heard. Instead, a high soprano belts out praises to the many benefits of medicinal marijuana, while an old man in the back clamors for the right to smoke recreationally. The words are there, the passion is there - the unity is not. How can we create unity in the movement? How can we bring smokers together?

One example that comes to mind immediately is the monthly vigil that takes place in Austin, Texas, and usually consists of several weed-friendly people holding signs on the side of the busy roads of the capital city. Hippies, punks, old ladies, angry college students, and "normal" looking adults gather to speak out about the injustices of the drug war. Although this is the basis for the vigil, the focus remains on marijuana legalization. The older woman with purplish, white hair exclaims that it is "bullshit" that we can’t smoke weed in our own homes, and that smokers are forced to live in constant fear of overzealous law enforcement. These protests encourage drivers to honk their horns in support of the messages we proudly display on huge red banners. Honking their approval, people are given an anonymous and safe way to voice their opinions about weed and the war on drugs as a whole. It is a community-building experience where you can feel the presence of herb lovers joining together, acknowledging a common experience, a common love.

I am torn from my thoughts by a tap on the shoulder. "Joint," Renee reminds me, and hands me the now somewhat smaller joint. I inhale deeply, holding the precious fumes in my lungs. As I exhale billows of white smoke, I remind my friends of the protests I have been thinking about.

"What do you guys think? Wanna' go with me to this month’s Vigil in Austin?" I look around the rotation at each of its members.

With half-closed eyes and a stoned smile, Renee turns to me to provide a little false hope. "Yea, maybe. When is it again?" This is a typical response, and one of the most frustrating since stoners always seem to forget the information that I have already told them.

"Monday the 25th of June, from 4:20 until 6:00." I respond patiently, understanding the effects of short-term memory loss. Recollection crosses her face and she sits for a second to ruffle through her mental date book.

"Hmmm, Damnit! I can’t go, I have dance class from 4:00 until 6:00pm." Renee gets up for more water and I mull over her response. Although I do not doubt that she has prior obligations, I wonder when she will prioritize these protests over others. Until then, though, I can only provide dates and times. Why are weed smokers so unmotivated to fight for their right to smoke weed? This contradiction lingers, unsettled in my head, but instead I smile.

"Cool," I reply. Then I look to the other members of the rotation for their excuses or promises for participation. I glance at Justin, who is already breaking up weed for what I will assume to be a blunt. My suspicions are confirmed as he reaches over for the box of Swisher Sweets on the table. As he diligently empties the cigar of all its tobacco, leaving a hollow shell, he looks up at me.

"I don’t know, I don’t like to be very visible about weed. I don’t want people attaching it to me, or making a connection between marijuana and me. It makes me nervous." I nod my head, listening to what he is saying.

Justin calls himself a "drug dealer" and thus, deals with a lot of marijuana on a daily basis. Several pounds of weed come in a week, and it is part of his job to break up the large compacted sacks. He separates out what his "customers" have placed orders for, weighs it out, and then puts the correct amount in a plastic baggie and seals it. Justin "slangs" or sells weed to all types of people, he "doesn’t discriminate." One ounce for the old guy in Austin, a quarter pound to the girl in Round Rock, and a half-pound to the local dealer in Georgetown. To supply the large demand that clamors for good bud, Justin risks "sitting" on large amounts at a time. "Sitting" refers to the dangerous in-between time when the shipment comes in, and before all the weed is sold. Justin is around large amounts of marijuana, all the time. Thus, because the laws against marijuana are still excessively harsh, Justin feels unsafe voicing his opinion publicly. He knows that if he is caught with over five ounces, he faces "mandatory minium" felony charges and required jail time. Justin is silenced out of his fear of the police and the unjust laws they uphold. Justin is paranoid a lot, but this fear is valid since we live and smoke in Williamson County, an area in Texas with very strict drug policies. Despite the authorities' efforts to stop the amount of marijuana that comes into Williamson County, business is as good as ever for Justin. But if he wants to keep his business, his personal safety must be maintained at all times.

However, in validating his position on marijuana activism, more contradictions surface. Justin makes a living selling weed and loves to smoke a lot of it, but does not believe that marijuana should be legal. Like other entrepreneurs who have hustled buying and selling, Justin fears that the government’s involvement in legalizing marijuana will put people like him out of business. When asked about this unusual paradox, he stretches his long muscular legs out in front of him and thinks for a second.

"Well, I think that maybe weed should be decriminalized, you know like, if you were out of hand or disorderly you would get a ticket." He rubs his hands together, gathering his thoughts. He continues: "Yea, and maybe there would be open container laws; that you could have weed in the privacy of your home but in public it has to be in some special case or a box or something."

Interested, Nikki leans forward to join the conversation. "Ideally, I think the government should not have any say about drugs. They should not be able to tell me what I can and cannot put into my body." As if realizing the significant changes that would have to take place in order to accommodate such a demand, Nikki re-summarizes her point.

" I mean, if it was possible, there shouldn’t be any laws about drugs. The government should stay out of it. But for now, I think decriminalization and legalization for medicinal marijuana are realistic goals."

"You know," Renee chimes in, "I agree. I think that for now, we should push for decriminalization to cushion the public’s transition to lighter drug laws, and then we can ease into full legalization."

"So that means that if you have five pounds of marijuana in your house, you deserve to be punished for that? That fine is still implying that there is something wrong with smoking marijuana," I remind the group. Interested, the group turns to me, so I continue with my own perspective. " I want weed to be totally legal so that I can grow and smoke a plant that makes me happy, and I want the government and everyone else to recognize that it is okay for me to do that."

Justin shakes his head in disagreement. "I don’t think so, I really think that if it is legal, the government will take over and weed will be become another white, rich, cash crop. It will lose its underground, rebellious culture. Smoking will be mainstream, and people will no longer have to work a little bit to get herb. They will just buy it at some store, not appreciating what they are smoking."

Justin leans over, takes a drink of Renee’s water, and squints his eyes. "Bedsides, weed gives under-privileged people an opportunity to make some money. Some people live really well off ‘slangin.’ Just because someone says that it is illegal and bad, doesn’t mean that the underground culture can’t and shouldn’t profit from it."

While processing this new perspective, it becomes apparent why Justin did not attend the vigil in Austin. Justin feels that legalizing marijuana would erode the underground culture that embraces weed today. Instead, he actively fights against marijuana laws by supplying all the activists, non-activists, and regular pot smokers with their favorite plant. He provides the substance that grew the movement and the culture. Can this be considered marijuana activism? Could this be considered the best form of marijuana activism?

As I bounce these questions back and fourth in my head, the bright orange flyer for the vigil falls out of my notebook along with several other flyers. I lean down to pick them up, being careful not to knock over the ashtray beside me. I quickly scan the informative quotes on the front of a light green flyer and pick out one to read.

"Hey, did y’all know that ‘if hemp were re-legalized and taxed at the same rate as pipe tobacco, over 1/2 a billion dollars could be raised annually for Texas schools.’" While listening to the room’s response, I reach down to pick up a darker green flyer and decide to read a quote from it also.

"Did you also know that ‘clinical studies indicate statistically, that you’ll live a little longer if you use marijuana than if you don’t!’ And, get this: the source is from U.S, Jamaican, Costa Rican and UCLA studies. Why can’t I be in one of those studies?" I finally find the orange flyer beneath the couch, and it reminds me again of the THC vigil.

"Yea, so, what did you think about last month’s vigil, Nikki?" I prompt.

She looks up from rolling a spliff, which, as Nikki explains, "is like a Bob Marley joint that is cone-shaped and takes talent to roll." She licks the edge of the long white paper, and then inspects the small, white, cone she holds in front of her. Nikki constantly suffers from short-term memory loss, and so I ask her again.

"Remember that vigil in Austin? With the Texas Hemp Campaign?"

"Yea, of course," she looks around the room. "It was wonderful, there were just a couple of us out their holding signs in the hot sun. It was fucking hot, and there was absolutely no shade. But, I still really enjoyed seeing who honked and I really liked spending time with the other pot smokers out there. The vigil showed me that even everyday people smoke weed!"

Her face glows as she recounts story after story of the interesting people that she saw and of the differing responses she received. Her particular sign was probably four feet wide and fifteen feet long, with the words "Honk if you want to end the war on drugs" in large white letters. As each marijuana-friendly vehicle would pass, the sounds of their horns would fill the stifling hot afternoon. From listening to her stories, the group is reminded that even eighty year-old women love the herb.

"The best part is that all those smokers are part of a community, we all share a common bond."

Renee nods in agreement with Nikki’s statement and then adds, "you know, I think of the smoking community like a big office building, with different levels. Each level or each floor would represent different amounts people smoke. We would have the nickel and dime smokers slightly above the occasional smoker at the bottom. Then, the half-ounce, then one or two ounces and so on. The growers would be at the top and then the weed kinda trickles down from there."

Pleased with her metaphor, Renee watches me process what she is saying, and then continues. "Yea, so, the building shows how there are different levels within the smoking community, but we still all share a common bond – we all love marijuana!"

The last part of Renee’s statement was perhaps the most important. "We all love marijuana." This is the unifying force, the adhesive that connects very different people from all over the world in every country, continent, age group, race, and class. These people are part of a community that will embrace them if they form a relationship/bond with the herb and its supporters.

Although an important part of building this community is based on the presence of marijuana, another important aspect lies in the language that this sub-culture has created. When asked to define particular words that illustrate the jargon that pot smokers have created, similar answers were given across the board. In order to represent the way that certain language has been used to make people feel part of a community, I asked ten people to take a pot smoker’s vocabulary quiz. On this quiz I asked smokers to define terms such as "bud," "roll," and "roach." These words have meanings to people not involved in marijuana culture, but those who do participate in the culture have taken these words and made them their own. Almost unanimously, the ten people wrote that a "bud" meant the flowering part of the marijuana plant, a friend one smokes pot with, or is a basic "slang term for weed." The similarities in people’s answers demonstrate how language works to create community and foster an environment that is exclusively about marijuana. The use of colloquialisms, like saying "roach" instead of the "last part of a joint or blunt," or referring to quality weed as "KB," enables people to feel that they can utilize this secret code to support the oral tradition. This idea of language as a support network alludes to Renee’s building metaphor. "If pot culture was the building itself, then language would be the sheet rock – the walls." Through this specialized vocabulary, pot smoking culture is capable of fostering its own oral tradition where experienced smokers teach the new ones, who then pass along the information. This pattern shows that the more one smokes, the more one knows about marijuana, and so the more jargon is understood and picked up. The fear of punishment keeps tips about smoking marijuana within the culture itself, secretive and underground. Since smoking weed has been illegal since 1937, smokers must educate each other in order to pass on the skill and insights of the trade. Special language facilitates this process.

Listening to these smokers talk about their experiences and opinions, I realize that sitting in front of me is a small example of the larger conversation taking place about marijuana. Here are very different people sitting together, connected by friendships formed while smoking weed, but these friends have different political agendas and beliefs about weed. It is interesting to see smokers express their feelings about a culture that they have helped to create. It is this same culture that they are creating and re-creating right now. This process of re-discovery and transformation can take place if open conversations like ours happen with pot smokers everywhere. Although it is often difficult to motivate or persuade people to become involved in a political movement for the reform of marijuana laws, each person may have his/her own way of fighting against the oppressive forces that are violating our rights. It is important that each voice is heard, validated, and recognized in its potential to educate the larger public about issues surrounding marijuana. These voices blend and melt together in order to create a medley of perspectives which can then speak to the larger conversation taking place.