BY SIMONE J. SMITH
Hmmmmm!
I couldn’t believe what I was tasting. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and I had driven all the way to Hamilton to have a tasting session with a young woman who I had heard a lot of great things about.
I was making my way through my second gourmet doubles; the sauces were running down my fingers and dripping on the plate. It was so messy, but I didn’t care. These were the best doubles that I had ever tasted.
The best part about it; they were cannabis infused, and you couldn’t even tell. All I knew is that I couldn’t get the silly smile of my face. Good food will do that to anyone, or was it the cannabis?
Our woman empowered has been featured in: FLARE, New York Times, The Globe & Mail, and NOW Magazine. When I asked her to send me some articles that had featured her, she sent me a list of about twenty articles. Yes, she is popular because she is one of the few women of colour in Canada to run a cannabis-related business.
It has not been easy for her, especially in the industry that she has chosen to navigate. There have been women with strong ideas who are keen to start a business, but unfortunately these women need investors and funding, which is difficult to access, especially as a woman of colour. There are many barriers that keep people of colour out of the cannabis industry, and regardless of that she has pushed past these barriers and created a niche market of her own.
As the owner of The Limin Coconut, and the High Society Supper Club, this culinary scientist creates private dining experiences featuring micro-dosed dishes, infused butters, dressings for salads, sauces for mains, fudge and even cookies.
So, the question that comes to mind is, why is such a woman empowered not receiving the respect and support that she so obviously deserves? Is it because she is in the cannabis business? Is it the marketing, demographics, or are her products so stigmatized that our community finds them less appealing? I wanted some answers, so I took the drive to sit down and speak with the eccentric, and riveting energy known as Reena Rampersad.
After she had finished spoiling me to a three-course meal including an appetizer (plantain, and saltfish bakes), freshly cut up salad (with infused dressing), and her famous doubles, Reena sat down with me and shared her story.
“I was born in Toronto, East York actually,” she began. “Myself and my younger brother were born here. The rest of my family is from Trinidad. We were the only melinated family living on our street. We only knew this because everyone chose to tell us that.
A Jamaican family moved in, and we became family. As families we battled a lot of bullshit, you know racism, discrimination, things that are brushed under the rug here in Canada.
Our fathers shared the love of ganja. I was always around it. My grandmother used it for spiritual purposes. My dad and grandmother would make tea that I was not supposed to have, because obviously, I was way too young.
I remember spraining my ankle once, and my grandmother made some concoction (later I learned it was ganja), and I swear by the next day my leg was great.
There are parts of my childhood that I would like to forget, but I can’t because they have made me who I am today. My dad was arrested in 1978 for smoking a spliff on the porch. The police came and told my dad to stop smoking and my dad said no. They ripped it out his mouth, and my dad naturally defended himself. That was the first demonstration I saw, and in that moment, I realized how unjust the world was.
My dad had not done anything, but the reaction to him was so intense. I knew that something was wrong; society seemed to have a problem with people who partook in ganja, and that would be part of my repeated history.”
Reena then shared with me stories about how she saw the police accost family members and friends on a regular basis. This truly affected her.
“When you are constantly being harassed and targeted for a life choice, you begin to develop anxiety. It was hard.
For many years I didn’t smoke. I became a social worker in Detroit, and for almost ten years, I had to deal with being tested for drugs, so instead of dealing with the anxiety, I just stopped. It was when I was going through a separation from my first marriage, finding out that my dad and my brother had died, brought me home and back into what I knew, what I had grown up in. When I came home, I happened to find some of my dad’s weed, so I lit it up. It was truly a homecoming.”
As life would have it, Reena visited her doctor and he told her that she was suffering from depression. He suggested that she start to use anti-depressants, but she was completely against it. For her, smoking a spliff was her sanity.
“It changed my life. It put many things in perspective and trust me when I say it healed me physically. I have endometriosis and I used to take heavy medication. When I started smoking again, I didn’t have to take it as much. My endometriosis was manageable. There was such a relief. It was really profound.”
What really boils her blood is that people were making cannabis out to be this devil drug. They were tainting such a miracle plant.
“The prohibition was discriminatory. We brought this plant here, and then had it ripped away from us, and told that if we used it we would be chastised, and imprisoned. We started to believe that they were right. They criminalized marijuana, and we bought into it.
It was part of life. It was part of healing. They took it away from us. We have to remind ourselves that we have bought into the nonsense.”
Her mission and goal is to make the community aware of the place that Caribbean people have in this industry.
“It starts with our mind-set. I have so many family members and elders who look down at me, not recognizing that cannabis is the number one stock traded for a reason. We need to recognize that our limitations are because of our mind-set. We have to stop buying into the colonial thought. I always question people do you know why it was made illegal in the first place? I usually hear crickets after the question, and this is why I have to continue to educate.”
Reena advocates strongly for community by getting involved with organizations that support and lobby for policy change. She is the volunteer coordinator at Campaign for Cannabis Amnesty, where their main push was to convince the federal government to amend and pass Bill C-93, so that it gives expungements rather than pardons to Canadians convicted of simple possession marijuana.
“We wanted expungement, and instead they did expedited pardons. This means that the charge will stay on their record, and this may hinder some of their ability to do certain things,” Reena explains.
She also sits on the board for the Afro Caribbean Canadian Association Hamilton, as well as the Organja Society, a trade society that supports various products and services based businesses in the Global African Caribbean Indigenous and Diaspora communities.
“I am here to raise awareness of anti-black racism in the industry, as well as the inclusion and intersectional racism that myself and others have experienced. I want my community to have a seat at the table, and don’t worry, I will do the cooking.”