Mennlay Golokeh Aggrey

“I was scared for my livelihood”

I moved from Humboldt down to San Francisco in the early 2000s. I was looking for a more diverse community and a chance to continue growing cannabis in a thriving city. I was fortunate enough to find a beautiful home that was reasonably priced. It took several months and lots of money saved to eventually begin my grow-up (within my legal limits). I invested a lot into the home I was renting! l put in flowers beds. I planted native plants and pulled the weeds surrounding my property – sometimes on my neighbors’ side.

My neighbors, a retired accountant caring for his sick wife, were quite nosey. Always asking questions and wanting to talk. I figured he was bored and was always cordial. I was the perfect neighbor. No loud parties. Walked my dog, rode my bike around the neighborhood. I was active and friendly – yet quiet.

One day, my neighbor aggressively came up to me to my car as I was turning off the engine – just back from getting groceries. He asked me if I was growing weed in my house. Straight up. On the street and loud for everyone to hear. He said that, "The police said on the television that if you see something suspicious, you say something – you should call." I deflected, played it cool denying it and walked into my home.

I panicked for several hours if not days. During this time the federal and local police were aggressively raiding houses in the Sunset district of San Francisco for indoor grow operations. It was on the news everyday. So I was scared for my livelihood. I was not in the position to afford legal fees, if busted. My family (consisting of my single mother, an immigrant to America, and my three younger sisters) were not in the position to bail me out. So the next week I tore down about $30,000 dollars worth of a setup (luckily I had just recently harvested so there were no plants, only equipment.) Within that month, I downsized to a rent-control apartment in the Mission. I struggled to survive. I sold my car and eventually sold my belongs (including grow equipment) at discounted prices, finally moving to Oakland and later out of the Bay Area.

This wasn't the first time I had to move out of a home urgently because of neighbors (usually white folks). During the six years of growing I witnessed that a lot of my grower friends of marginalized communities — LGBTQ, poor, disabled, Brown or Black — were often not able to rent based on discrimination, whereas my white (particularly male) friends had easier times getting homes, getting loans to buy trucks, equipment, etc., which is huge for cannabis cultivators. It's a micro issue obviously, but impactful to those communities of people.

I'm a survivor though, and I got a side-gig as a building manager. I painted rich people's houses and later began freelance writing and doing web design for small firms. Some of the clients hitting me up for freelance work were also small cannabis firms; friends of friends who I knew that were still in the game and wanted to level-up their business legally. That's morphed into where I am today. Though I'm thankful for the journey and the ability to have avoided jail time, it would be a lie to say that I haven't been affected by the War on Drugs. So much of the work I do today is informed by that, and I actively try to advocate for those affected by this war, both in the U.S., Mexico, and nationwide.