A Dream of Freedom: What If We Celebrated the Fourth Like We Were Actually Free?

Pot Culture Magazine, July 4, 2025

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It’s just after eight, somewhere along the Gulf. The tide pulls back slowly. Fireworks haven’t started yet, but the mosquitoes have. The grill smokes like a dying campfire, and someone is laughing hard enough to cough. Marvin Gaye pours from a beaten-up Bluetooth speaker while flip-flops slap across the deck. A man stands at the railing with a joint in his fingers and sweat on his forehead, wearing one of those faded gas station shirts that hold more memory than fabric. His eyes tilt toward the sky, where streaks of orange melt into purple. July does that better than any other month.

This is the dream. Not the polished, flag-waving illusion sold every Fourth of July. Not the sanitized, corporate-approved holiday that turns freedom into a sales event. The real dream smells like charred burgers, saltwater, and rolling paper. It tastes like beer gone warm in the sun. It feels like letting the smoke fill your chest without fear that a knock on the door might end the party for good.

But let’s not kid ourselves. That joint could still get him fired. It could still get him arrested. It could still get his kids taken away or his home raided. Depending on which county line you cross, the same dream turns into a trap.

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So what are we really celebrating?

Every July, Americans light fireworks and grill meat, calling it Independence Day. For millions of cannabis users, especially those who are Black and Brown, freedom is still conditional. Still negotiated. Still denied. It’s not a holiday if half your people are paying for the other half’s fireworks.

This cover is not about fireworks. It’s about the pause before them. The quiet moment between breath and blast. It’s about wondering what this country would look like if it finally gave cannabis users the freedom they’ve already taken for themselves. Not just decriminalization. Not just halfway rescheduling. Real freedom. Cultural, legal, and economic. A place at the table. A spot on the beach. The safety to pass a joint and not look over your shoulder.

This July, we imagined that future. And we made it look like the past. Because for so many of us, summer has always meant possibility. We burned through childhoods chasing sparks in the dark. Now we burn for something bigger.

The question is how much longer we have to dream.

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