I wrote an article that Slate published earlier today, and in just a few hours there were more comments on the piece than anything I have ever written on the internet, combined. (A distant but memorable second was this account of bad service at a fancy LA restaurant).
If there's one thing I wish I made clearer in the article: I'm not looking for a way to indulge my crack habit, much less justify it. I wanted to reflect back on 15 years of experimentation honestly in an attempt to readjust perceptions about drugs, including my own. The piece was challenging to write and to publish, and I tend to think I would have had an easier time continuing to "justify" my habit if I kept the matter private.
We look within our families at the palpable toll that drugs have taken, and the destruction that the drug war has wrought, and we instinctively blame the drugs themselves as the cause of the problem. Or, even less rationally and more divisively, we blame the addict. Some of that is founded in experience: drug users do sometimes act selfishly, ignorantly, and deviously; the drugs themselves are toxic, harmful and have a deteriorating effect. In other words, drugs are "bad."
But a lot of blame is founded in a level of closed-minded, irrational discussion that has shaped drug policy and colored our perception of drug use for decades. "I thought Nancy Reagan settled all of this in the 80s. Just say 'No.' Simple," wrote one commenter, hinting at the fact that 30 years later, there is still limited ability to explore the possibilities that drugs are also "good" in some ways.
There is little room for a narrative from the drug addict that doesn't involve his being rehabilitated, repentant or "recovering." The level of dialogue at our disposal is mired in black-and-white language and little room to interpret subtle shades of grey. Thankfully, plenty of people commented to the effect that was pretty much the only point I was trying to make--that it's time for a new level of dialogue--and it's a point I believe in firmly enough to throw myself in front of a freight train of stigma and heartache. As one commenter said, "The hostile reaction of the commentary to this piece only bolsters the argument of its writer."
I anticipated that the story would be filtered through some deeply
ingrained perceptions about drug addiction, the war on drugs, personal
responsibility, and the idea that I was lying to myself and others,
delusional and "in denial." A lot of people seemed engaged by one small sentence I wrote, "I need my friends and loved ones to help keep me in check" as if I was placing some extraordinary burden on them and not getting by in life with traditional boundaries. Substitute "need" with "prefer" and maybe the wording is more accurate, but yeah--that's sort of the deal I have with my friends and loved ones, we help keep each other "in check."
***
Maybe it's easier to look at this as my cry for help. Except I'm not crying--I'm telling these stories and broadcasting the issues on Dope Stories because I find it helpful. I find I am providing myself some measure of solace by being straightforward about my problems. There is observable local evidence of harm reduction and the ability to more easily reformat ideas about substance use and consciousness when I am honest about it. I hope it translates for others.
I can't really begin to parse the hundreds of comments on the article--which ones I thought advanced the discussion vs. limiting it and which made me feel good vs. those that hurt my feelings. The comments reflected various attitudes about the drug war, drug use, and the nature of addiction and run the gamut from profound to ignorant.
This is just ground zero for discussion, and I don't (yet) regret taking a shot at helping to shape the discussion.