Hi. I'm back.

You want to know what happened? Here's what happened.

Someone wrote an anonymous letter to Child Protective Services saying that I'm a drug abuser with mental health problems and they fear for my children.

Yeah. (Thread)

So a couple weeks ago, I got a call from a CPS worker saying that they'd received an unsigned email, supposedly from a family member, alleging that I have "mental health issues," "drug abuse issues" and I'm using my PhD as a way of justifying my "drug addiction."

They also blatantly lied in the letter, as they said there had been "multiple attempts by family to address my drug abuse."

This is not true, as no one in my family has ever expressed concern that I have a drug problem, likely because they are perfectly aware that I do not.

Still, this person knew my phone number and address, so the odds of it being a (non-immediate) family member are fairly high, as I keep that info close.

Because they had that info, CPS took it seriously. We got a visit from a case worker last week.

I want to make it very clear that I have nothing against CPS itself. They perform an essential service, even though the fact that they exist is due to our unjust & broken society.

The social worker was fair, compassionate, professional & kind, and I am grateful to her for that.

However, by the nature of the process, it was a humiliating and terrifying experience.

It didn't matter that I knew the case wouldn't go anywhere, the stakes quite literally could not have been higher.

I was a wreck. I couldn't sleep. I had so much anxiety that my Fitbit literally thought I was going for a run while I was in the shower, because my heart rate was 117.

I really needed this while I'm caring for a newborn and recovering from a C-section. VERY FUCKING COOL

When the case worker came, for two hours I had to answer questions about my entire history of drug use, my mental health, my ADHD, my personal life.

Again, the case worker was very professional and kind, but there's simply no way around how invasive and stressful the process is.

Wondering if saying the wrong thing—being the wrong type of person—could get your kids taken away from you is a horror I wish on no parent.

I explained to her that I publicly identify as a "drug user" because my goal is to destigmatize drug use, and challenge people's perceptions of who we consider to be a "drug user."

I explained about my research, and the way my identity could be misconstrued—or used against me.

If I posted only about how much I love craft beer or rolling my own cigarettes, this never would have happened, even though I'd be every bit as much of a "drug user."

I could even talk about how "addicted" to caffeine (a very strong drug!) I am, without raising any eyebrows.

But because I am trying to use my education and what little power and platform I have to change people's perspectives in ways that challenge the status quo, I am vulnerable in ways that most legal drug users aren't, even if they use drugs far more often and heavily than I do.

Back to the visit: As the claims are obvious bullshit and our kids clearly live in a safe and loving household, the case isn't going to go anywhere. The worker seems satisfied that the allegations were fraudulent.

But the visit was never my biggest worry. I knew that my status as an academic, the fact that all of my current drug use is legal and limited, and various aspects of my identity would likely protect me in ways that other drug users don't have access to.

No, the worst part was not knowing who had sent the letter to CPS, what their motivations were, and how deep their anti-drug stigma is.

Why would someone I know do this? Would they escalate things? Are they simply confused, or do they want to harm me? How worried should I be?

To be clear: I'm the kind of mom who spends hours researching things like attachment parenting and screen time recommendations. I eat organic food just in case traces of pesticides can get in my breastmilk. I read to my toddler every day, in two different languages.

From the second I wake up to nurse my baby, to the last notes of the songs I sing to my toddler as she falls asleep, my kids get everything I have in me.

They could not possibly live in a more loving and attentive household. They're me and my partner's whole world.

And part of the reason I'm able to care for them so well is *because* of drugs: past psychedelic use for trauma, and the legal ADHD meds I have access to.

Not everyone has access to the drugs that help them, even when they desperately need them, and they are criminalized for it.

I find it difficult and distasteful to pretend I'm someone I'm not, so I simply don't do that. What you see of me online is who I am—an academic, an activist, a Burner, a mother.

And a drug user.

Just like you, if you drink wine or coffee.

And it's because literally everyone who actually knows me knows these things that I am baffled and devastated that someone would weaponize drug stigma and state violence against me like this.

I don't know if they meant to hurt me, or if they're being a malicious busybody for fun, or if they are so deeply propagandized by anti-drug stigma that they were genuinely, truly concerned (yet still chose to blatantly lie in their letter).

Drug stigma warps people's ability to tell right from wrong.

It turns otherwise kind people against their neighbours and families. It clouds judgement, creates shame and prevents people from developing a positive relationship to drugs, or getting help they might actually need.

The reason drug stigma exists is to create a cultural justification for jailing Black people, Indigenous people and poor people.

If we didn't have that stigma, we would not accept the constant, daily violation of the rights and bodily autonomy of people who use certain drugs.

Without anti-drug stigma, we would not so easily accept the prison industrial complex.

We would not cheer on violence against people who produce and sell drugs that other people want, and have been using for decades, centuries, millennia.

Without anti-drug stigma, we'd have to completely change the way we deal with drugs as a society. We'd have to take a hard look at the causes of the trauma that people have to medicate:

Capitalism. White supremacy. Colonialism.

And that's too hard, so instead we double down.

And people like me, who are trying to change things, get hurt. People much less lucky than me get hurt much worse.

And everyone, in the end, suffers from this racist classist trash fire garbage ass situation.

Ending drug stigma and ableism is not just about not using the words "crackhead" or "lazy."

It's about changing the material circumstances that cause our society to be violent towards people who use certain drugs, disabled people, and neurodivergent people.

My family is okay, I'm severely rattled but okay.

All of your support means the world to me. It's hard being on the frontlines of activism, trying to make the world a safer place for people who don't have the luxury of the time and energy I have to try. This fucking sucked.

One of the biggest risks of this kind of work, in the face of so much hostility from society, is losing faith in yourself.

Questioning whether the work is worth it, whether you should just be quiet and work within capitalism instead of against it.

I literally could not do that even if I tried because I am pathologically obsessed (hello fellow neurodivergents) with justice, lol.

So the support of my friends, colleagues & comrades is what keeps me going—deep gratitude to everyone in my life who helps me struggle onward.

Please do what you can to end drug prohibition & the carceral state

Seriously, the best thing you can do for me is to get INCREDIBLY ANGRY and LOUD about the harms of drug prohibition—on social media, to the people in your life, and to your elected officials.

Also, coming out as a drug user yourself, if you can, is a powerful political action.