by Abdul-Hakim Shabazz, Esq.
Indiana has never been quick to embrace change. Whether it was dragging its feet on Sunday retail alcohol sales, holding out on daylight saving time like it was some radical conspiracy, or putting off property tax reform like it was a trip to the dentist, this state rarely rushes toward progress. So it’s hardly a shock that social and political change come to Indiana at a glacial pace too.
A decade ago, Indiana was a different beast entirely. In 2015, if you wanted to marry the person you loved and they happened to be of the same gender, your state told you “Nope.” It took the Supreme Court in Obergefell v. Hodges to drag us into the present day. Even then, Indiana grumbled its way into compliance. Let’s not forget this is the same state that had to be yanked into recognizing same-sex marriages by federal judges like they were herding particularly surly cats.
And then there’s marijuana. Back in 2015, you could go to jail just for having a joint. Fast-forward to today, and — surprise — you can still go to jail just for having a joint. Ten years of progress on who can stand together at the altar and zero progress on who can pass around a doobie in the backyard.
You’d think by now Indiana would have come around on both. Marriage equality went from unimaginable to mundane in less than a decade. Polls say most Hoosiers support it — around 63% at last check — and that number only grows as people realize that two people promising to look after each other doesn’t cause floods or locusts. Even so, you still have a few lawmakers clinging to definitions of “husband and wife,” as if those words alone will reverse time and reality.
Yet when it comes to marijuana, Indiana is still clenching its pearls. It’s one of the only states left in the Midwest without even medical marijuana. Michigan, Illinois, and Ohio all have recreational cannabis; even Kentucky allows medical. But not us. Here, you can face jail time and a record for possessing a few grams — never mind the tax revenue, the proven pain relief, or the fact that most other states haven’t spontaneously combusted into chaos.
And this isn’t for lack of public support. Recent surveys show about 62% of Hoosiers support full legalization — both medical and recreational — with an additional 25% backing medical-only access. Another poll puts support for adult-use cannabis at around 70%. Clearly, the public is miles ahead of its elected officials. Every session, reformers introduce bills, and every session leadership buries them in committee. Our attorney general, Todd Rokita, even issued an official opinion warning that smokable hemp is too close to weed for his liking — as if Indiana can’t tell the difference between a pot shop and a farm store.
And if we’re being real, you can already buy most of this stuff. Drive through any Indiana town and you’ll see CBD and delta-8 shops on every corner, selling gummies, oils, and flower that look and smell suspiciously like cannabis — because they basically are. They’re unregulated, overpriced, and technically legal. So if we’re going to have dispensaries, let’s have the real thing.
Of course, law enforcement loves to argue that legalization would make it harder to police impaired driving. Unlike alcohol, there’s no roadside breathalyzer for weed. But that’s true in every state that’s already legalized it, and somehow, they manage just fine with blood tests and roadside sobriety checks. This “what if someone’s high?” refrain is less a reason and more an excuse to stall.
That’s what a difference a decade makes in Indiana. Ten years ago, failing to recognize same-sex marriage was the “moral” hill Indiana hollered from. Now refusing to legalize medical marijuana is the hill. Indiana has pivoted — from blocking love to blocking pain relief and economic opportunity. The question isn’t whether the legislature will catch up — it’s whether they want to. Same-sex couples were “too much” until they weren’t. Maybe weed is just “too much” until it isn’t. And maybe — just maybe — Indiana can evolve twice in a generation.
But let’s face it: if the state moved this fast on marijuana, I’d believe hell does freeze over.
Abdul-Hakim is the editor and publisher of Indy Politics. He is also an attorney licensed in Indiana and Illinois.
