She Sparked Up and Unlocked Her Genius
For Black creatives, cannabis has long been a sacred key to imagination, flow, and freedom. Here's the real conversation we need to be having.
Close your eyes for a second. Picture this: it's late, you're high, and your senses are doing the absolute most. You want something spicy — but subtle. Sweet. Creamy. Something that doesn't exist yet but should. You drift off to sleep elevated and somewhere between this world and the next, the idea finds you. Pineapple. Wasabi. Ice cream.
That's not a fever dream. That's how WasiPi was born — my pineapple wasabi ice cream creation that came to me in a full-on cannabis-inspired vision. And sis, it slaps.
But more than the recipe, that moment taught me something that I've been sitting with ever since: cannabis doesn't give you creativity. It gives you permission to access what was already inside you all along.
Cannabis doesn't give you creativity. It gives you permission to access what was already inside you all along.
Sis, The Creativity Was Already IN You
Here's the real: we've been conditioned — especially as Black women — to treat creativity like a luxury. Something you do after the bills are paid, the kids are fed, and everybody else's needs are handled. The 9-to-5 world doesn't have a column in the budget for "visionary ideas" and "artistic flow." So we shrink it. We silence it. We put it on the back burner so long it goes cold.
Cannabis, for me, melts all of that away. It doesn't manufacture magic — it removes the block. It quiets that loud, practical voice that says "but is this realistic though?" and lets the other voice — the one that's been waiting patiently — finally speak.
Think about the legacy. From jazz musicians in Harlem to hip-hop producers in Compton to the Afrofuturist artists redefining what Black imagination looks like — cannabis has been woven into Black creative culture for generations. It's not a trend. It's a tradition.
That Inner Critic? She Gets a Whole New Attitude
Let me be honest about my inner critic. She's always there. Always. But she's not a hater — she just has standards. She expects greatness. When I'm sober, she can get loud and lean a little hard on the judgment. But when I'm elevated?
She becomes my collaborator. We sit down together like two friends researching a rabbit hole at 2am. We follow our senses. We let the ideas breathe before we start editing them to death. We allow the download.
That shift — from judge to co-creator — is everything. Because so many of our best ideas die in the draft. They never make it out of our heads because we already decided they weren't good enough before they had a chance to grow.
“So many of our best ideas die in the draft. Cannabis gives them a fighting chance.”
Discovering vs. Inventing: What the High Actually Does
People always ask: does cannabis make you more creative, or does it just make you think you are? And my answer is — both, and neither, and it depends.
Sometimes I'm discovering something that's already living inside me, an idea that's been marinating but couldn't find its way out. Cannabis flushes it out like a detox for the imagination. Other times it feels like a full download — something arriving from somewhere outside of me entirely, like a signal I finally had the antenna to receive.
Either way, the ideas are real. WasiPi is real. The songs people wrote. The paintings people made. The stories that got told. None of that is imaginary.
My Creative Ritual (And How to Build Yours)
I used to be a night owl. Late nights, candles, vibes. Then I had kids and my whole creative clock got rearranged. Now? My most powerful creative moments happen in the early morning — after I've worked out, smoked, and let the world wake up without me. The house is quiet. My body is awake. My mind is soft and open.
My ritual: spark a joint, turn on music, start moving. Dance, stretch, let my body go where it wants. That physical freedom unlocks mental freedom every single time.
For me, cannabis pairs best with writing, cooking, and movement. Your combination might be totally different. That's the point — it's personal. Here's what I've learned about building a ritual that actually works:
Know your terpenes, boo. Not all cannabis is going to send you into your creative bag. I learned the hard way that strains high in myrcene — that sedative, earthy terpene — make me foggy and anxious instead of flowing. I've sat down ready to create and ended up paralyzed on the couch. Pay attention to what strains do for your specific body and mind.
Capture everything immediately. When the idea hits, write it down. Voice memo it. Text yourself something chaotic and figure it out later. Ideas that feel permanently tattooed on your brain at 11pm have a way of completely disappearing by morning. Don't trust the high to be your memory.
Start slow, especially if you're new. There is nothing to be afraid of — but rushing the experience is how you end up anxious instead of inspired. Micro-dose if you're curious. Let your body find its rhythm before you find your flow.
Set the environment like you're setting the scene. Your surroundings tell your nervous system whether it's safe to play. Create a space that feels expansive, joyful, and free of obligation. Candles, good speakers, snacks you love — all of it matters.
On the Stigma — Sis, I Don't Have Time
Let's talk about it, because we have to.
Yes, there is a stigma. Yes, people — including people in our own community — will have opinions. And I want to be clear: I have made my peace. This is mine. My creative process, my ritual, my joy. I don't let anyone make me feel small or irresponsible for something that has genuinely elevated my life — literally and figuratively.
Some of the greatest artists in Black history — musicians, writers, painters, poets — have openly credited cannabis as part of their creative process. We're not talking about people who couldn't handle their lives. We're talking about people who built entire worlds with their imaginations and needed tools to access them fully.
I smoke and I create. That's the whole story.
- I smoke and I create. That's the whole story.
It's Bigger Than the Art
Beyond every song, dish, and piece of writing cannabis has helped me unlock, there's something even more valuable it's given me: myself.
It's made me more present. More relaxed in my own skin. Less anxious about all the ways I'm "not enough." For Black women especially — who carry so much, who are expected to perform wellness and strength and perfection at all times — permission to just be is revolutionary.
Cannabis gave me that permission. And I think that might be the most creative thing of all.
The Bottom Line
I can't give you a clean definition of creativity. I don't think one exists. But I can tell you this: the ideas are in you. The vision is in you. The art, the flavors, the music, the stories — all of it is already there, waiting.
Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is give yourself permission to access it.
Start slow. Let it flow. And don't you dare apologize for what you create.
-Your good sis with a spliff
