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“I believed in the plant, even when everyone told me I was throwing my life away,” says Dr. Chanda Macias.
Her words land with the weight of a life defined by grit, loss and triumph. Macias stands out in the cannabis space as a scientist, advocate and pioneer. As the CEO of National Holistic Healing Center in Washington, D.C., she became the first Black woman to open and operate a medical cannabis dispensary on the East Coast. Today, her name is synonymous with resilience and breaking barriers. But that journey didn’t start in the spotlight. It began in the trenches of adversity.
Growing up in a working-class family, Macias faced struggles that could have derailed her ambitions. As a teenager, she became a single mother after her son’s father was incarcerated during the height of the war on drugs. “No one ever thought that I was going to go to college,” she says. Expectations were low, but her resolve wasn’t. Without telling anyone, she applied to Howard University and the University of Maryland. When both accepted her, Howard’s legacy of Black excellence made the choice clear. “Of course, I have a diverse background. I’m a Latina, but I have been in the Black community my entire life, so I do identify as African-Latina.”
Howard was transformative for Macias, but it wasn’t easy. She worked two jobs, cared for her child and pushed herself academically. “Yes, I was working two jobs and raising a kid, but I fell in love with science,” she says. It wasn’t just a passion; it became a lifeline.
Cancer had deeply affected her community and her circle of friends. Watching women around her battle breast cancer, she immersed herself in researching the BRCA1 gene, searching for answers and solutions.
It was during this time that cannabis first entered the picture. “I started to realize how cannabis helped with the symptoms of cancer and it was so intriguing to me,” she explains. At Howard, she began connecting the dots between the unspoken reliance on cannabis in her community and emerging scientific evidence. “It was common knowledge that if you had cancer, you had to find someone to get marijuana,” she says. These quiet exchanges in parking lots and behind closed doors showed her a glaring truth: there was no safe, legitimate access to a plant that could make a profound difference.
Science Meets Stigma
Macias wasn’t content with hearsay; she wanted hard data. At Howard, she pored over research, much of it coming out of Israel, that revealed how cannabis could alleviate the side effects of cancer treatments. She approached her academic advisor with an idea: what if she could study cannabis’ potential as part of her research? His response was swift. “He said, ‘It’s illegal.’ And I’m like, ‘We’re scientists,’” she recalls.
That moment stuck with her. It wasn’t just the academic rejection: it was a reflection of broader systemic issues. “I started to understand why so many African American men were being incarcerated for cannabis possession or distribution. It wasn’t just a systemic issue; it was personal,” she says. The war on drugs had left scars on her family and her community, and the injustice of it all fueled her commitment to exploring cannabis’s potential.
While formal research into cannabis was off-limits, she pivoted her focus to prostate cancer, a disease with disproportionately high rates among Black men. “I wanted to see if cancer is maybe reduced or if [cannabis] inhibits the growth of tumors,” she explains. Though she couldn’t directly connect her studies to cannabis, the seed was planted. She knew that when the time came, she would be ready to push the boundaries.
Discovering Cannabis s Medicine
By the time Macias had completed her graduate studies, cannabis had taken root in her mind, not just as a tool for scientific exploration, but as a solution for people left behind by traditional medicine. Her education and experiences had given her a rare perspective: she had witnessed how systemic inequities pushed cannabis into the shadows while scientific studies pointed to its immense potential. That tension became a driving force.
As Macias moved into her professional career, her scientific expertise deepened. She joined Colgate-Palmolive as a research scientist, focusing on infectious diseases. The corporate world offered stability and recognition, but something was missing. “I was being fast-tracked there,” she says. “But I was always asking myself, ‘How can I get back to cannabis?’”
It wasn’t a casual question. For Macias, cannabis had become a calling; both a scientific frontier and a moral imperative. Yet, her attempts to pivot into cannabis research were met with resistance. Pharmaceutical companies showed little interest in hiring her for cannabis-related projects and the stigma surrounding the plant continued to shut doors. “It was ‘no,’ everywhere I turned,” she recalls.
‘I’m Doing This’
Then, in 2012, Washington, D.C. announced plans to issue licenses for medical cannabis dispensaries. The news hit Macias like a bolt of clarity. “I immediately said, ‘I’m doing this,’” she remembers. But entering the cannabis industry wasn’t as simple as raising her hand. The application process was rigorous, requiring expertise in cultivation, compliance, patient care and business management. Macias knew she had the scientific background and, by then, an MBA in supply chain management. But there were still significant gaps to fill.
Determined, she headed west to California, immersing herself in the heart of the cannabis movement. Industry veterans welcomed her into their operations, sharing hard-earned insights. “They let me walk into their facilities based on compassion and the shared mission of moving the advocacy of the plant forward,” she says. Those experiences laid the groundwork for what was to come. “It was insane—and exhilarating,” she adds, reflecting on the rapid learning curve.
Back in D.C., Macias channeled that knowledge into her license application, assembling a vision that balanced scientific rigor with compassionate care. The process tested her limits. Securing a property, a key requirement, was an uphill battle. Landlords were hesitant to lease space for a cannabis dispensary. After months of searching, she finally found a basement location in Dupont Circle, but at a price far beyond her means.
“I stopped paying my mortgage and moved my family into a 900-square-foot apartment so I could afford the lease,” she says as tears start rolling down her cheeks. It was a gamble, one that cost her her home. But Macias never wavered. “I lost my house, but I believed in myself and the plant,” she says. “I had no choice.”
A Losing Game
Securing a dispensary license in Washington, D.C., was only the beginning of Chanda Macias’s uphill climb. The challenges that followed tested every ounce of her resilience. Just when she thought she had a foothold, life threw her another curveball.
After winning her license, Macias faced an immediate roadblock: her landlord revoked the lease on her Dupont Circle location. The move left her scrambling, with no property to fulfill the regulatory requirements to open her dispensary. “I had already lost my house to make this dream happen,” she says. “Now, I was facing the possibility of losing my license before I’d even started.”
For three years, Macias fought to keep her dream alive, advocating to transfer her license to another location. Regulations made it nearly impossible. With no dispensary to run, she turned her focus to another calling: natural medicine research in Africa. Leading a team of Ph.D. and medical students, she studied the treatment of malaria and infectious diseases, hoping her work could make an impact while she rebuilt her own life.
But the fight to open her dispensary wasn’t over. In 2015, she received a letter from D.C.’s Department of Health warning her that if she didn’t open within 60 days, her license would be permanently revoked. It was a turning point. Macias flew back to the U.S., leaving her research team behind, and threw herself into the race to open her dispensary against impossible odds.
The Final Push To Open
Macias faced a monumental task: convincing her landlord to allow her to operate and building out a dispensary within two months. The original landlord, who had kept the space vacant for years (“It was a dilapitated basement unit after all… Nobody wanted it”), finally agreed to renegotiate the lease after she wrote him a heartfelt letter, outlining her dedication and expertise. “I gave him everything: my academic publications, my background… I wanted him to understand how serious I was,” she says.
With a lease in hand, she moved quickly to transform the space. “Our first reception area was my living room furniture,” she recalls with a laugh. “We took pictures off the walls of our apartment and hung them in the dispensary. We did everything we could to make it work.”
But the hurdles didn’t stop there. At the time, D.C.’s cannabis market was dominated by vertically integrated growers who were reluctant to sell products to independent dispensaries. “No one would sell to me,” she says. “It was devastating. I had come this far and couldn’t even stock my shelves.”
Help came from an unexpected ally: Corey Barnett, a Black grower in D.C., offered to sell her a single ounce of a strain called Buffalo Soldier. “It was all I could afford,” she says. Macias began educating patients about the plant’s benefits, slowly growing her customer base. “We started with 13 patients,” she says. “Then Corey asked if I needed more cannabis and I told him I couldn’t afford it. He trusted me to pay him back and that’s how we started expanding.”
Her patient base grew incrementally, reaching 250 patients as the word spread about her dispensary. “I was educating people about the plant and building trust,” she says. “Every patient that walked in felt like a victory.”
The opening of National Holistic Healing Center marked the culmination of years of sacrifice and struggle. But for Macias, the journey was far from over. Her success was a testament to her perseverance, but it also highlighted the systemic challenges faced by entrepreneurs in the cannabis industry, particularly women and people of color. “I lost everything for this,” she says. “But I knew I had to keep going—not just for me, but for the patients and the community I serve.”
When Things Go South (And Then Back Up)
By 2017, Macias’ mission to transform the cannabis industry had already tested her resilience in ways few could imagine. Yet, her determination to bridge gaps in access, equity and education propelled her to new challenges, this time in Louisiana, a state steeped in history and complexity.
Macias’ connection with Southern University, one of the nation’s most prestigious Historically Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs), began through education. She had offered internships to students at her D.C. dispensary, mentoring the next generation of Black scientists and cannabis professionals. That relationship deepened when the university approached her for an ambitious venture: to revive its floundering medical cannabis program.
Louisiana had initially awarded its medical cannabis cultivation and manufacturing license to a company called Advanced Biomedics. But after two years of missed deadlines and operational setbacks, the program was at risk of collapsing. The university turned to Macias for a solution. “They asked me to take over, but the catch was that I needed to raise $2.18 million,” she says. For most, it would have been a deal-breaker. For Macias, it was another challenge to conquer.
Her commitment to the project was rooted in more than business. Louisiana’s communities, particularly those affected by the war on drugs, needed what this program could provide: jobs, education and a pathway to economic empowerment. With the clock ticking, Macias reached out to every connection she had. Eventually, she secured the funding from an unexpected ally—a Pennsylvania-based cannabis company she had once helped pro bono. “They trusted me and that trust brought everything together,” she says.
Under Macias’ leadership, Southern University became the first HBCU to legally grow and manufacture medical cannabis. The program not only created opportunities for local students but also broke new ground in advocacy. Through her work, Macias pushed for statewide decriminalization measures and played a role in securing pardons for thousands of individuals with cannabis-related convictions in Louisiana.
Becoming Queen Zulu
Amid her groundbreaking work in Louisiana, Macias was unexpectedly thrust into the spotlight in a different arena: Mardi Gras. In 2020, she was chosen as Queen Zulu, a title steeped in cultural and historical significance. Founded in 1916, the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club represents the heart of New Orleans’ Black Mardi Gras tradition. Louis Armstrong, the legendary jazz musician, had once served as King Zulu–in 1949. For Macias, stepping into this role was an honor; but it wasn’t without controversy.
The Zulu community, like much of Louisiana, had complex feelings about cannabis. Many of its members had been directly affected by the war on drugs and her association with the plant raised eyebrows. “I remember the King telling me, ‘My community doesn’t like cannabis,’” she recalls. Initially, some members resisted her selection, fearing it might tarnish the club’s legacy. Macias responded with the same determination that defined her career. “I didn’t want to use their platform to push my narrative, but I also wouldn’t hide who I was,” she explains.
She made compromises, agreeing not to wear green or feature cannabis-related imagery in her Mardi Gras appearances. But she stayed true to her mission, using her role to foster dialogue and break down stigma. “The community at first actively tried to remove me,” she says, once again shedding tears. “But the men of Zulu stood up for me. They said, ‘This is our Queen.’”
Macias’ reign became a turning point, not just for her but for the Zulu community. By the end of Mardi Gras, many of her detractors had become advocates. Southern University publicly honored her work and the mayor of New Orleans highlighted her achievements as a cannabis entrepreneur. “In the middle of the parade, they congratulated me on stage for everything I’d done. It was one of the most powerful moments of my life,” she says.
Despite the accolades, the role wasn’t without its challenges. Macias faced threats to her safety and life, a stark reminder of the resistance she encountered as a woman of color leading change in the South. “My husband begged me to come home, but I refused to run away from everything I’d built. I got more security and carried on,” she says. Her commitment paid off, as her advocacy efforts gained traction and her impact on Louisiana’s cannabis landscape solidified.
Women Grow And Foster Hope
When Dr. Macias began her journey in the cannabis industry, she quickly realized that technical knowledge and scientific expertise alone wouldn’t be enough to succeed. Running a dispensary came with unique challenges, from navigating compliance to fostering meaningful community connections. In search of support, she attended a Women Grow event, where she found more than just guidance. “They welcomed me with open arms,” Macias recalls. “They helped me set up my education booths, showed me how to engage with patients and created a community of women helping women.”
Over time, Macias transitioned from attendee to leader. Recognizing her drive and impact, Women Grow entrusted her with managerial roles, first overseeing the D.C. and Maryland markets, and later expanding into Ohio, where she helped lay the groundwork for medical cannabis legalization. In 2018, she was named Chairwoman of the Board and later became CEO. Under her stewardship, Women Grow evolved into a national platform for empowerment, mentorship and education. “It’s not just about cannabis: it’s about creating opportunities and lifting each other up,” she explains.
Macias emphasizes the importance of intersectionality, ensuring that women of color, often underrepresented in the cannabis industry, had resources and support. Through Women Grow, she spearheaded educational initiatives, built advocacy networks and created spaces for women to thrive in an industry fraught with challenges. “We’re not just building businesses; we’re building a movement,” she says.
Finding Hope In Cannabis
One of the most impactful projects of Macias’ career emerged from a collaboration with autism advocate Erica Daniels in Pennsylvania. Together, they developed Hope, a cannabis product line tailored to children with autism. The initiative addressed symptoms like anxiety, aggression and lack of focus, offering families a lifeline. “Erica’s insight and dedication to her child’s needs shaped everything about Hope,” Macias says. From avoiding allergens in the formula to tailoring dosages, every detail was carefully considered.
The success of Hope was immediate and profound, generating over $1 million in its first year in Pennsylvania alone. Beyond its financial impact, Hope provided something far more significant: relief for families who had exhausted other options. “Parents would come to us in tears, telling us how this product gave their children a better quality of life,” Macias shares. For her, Hope represents the heart of what cannabis advocacy should be: meeting unmet needs and changing lives.
Advocacy, Challenges And Leadership Reflections
Throughout her career, Macias has been a steadfast advocate for equity and progress in the cannabis industry. She is unflinching in her critique of the systemic barriers that disproportionately affect women and minority entrepreneurs. “Cannabis businesses face hurdles like 280E, lack of banking and excessive taxes, but these challenges hit small operators the hardest,” she says.
The looming threat of corporate dominance is another concern. While rescheduling cannabis to Schedule III might alleviate some challenges, Macias warns it could open the door for Big Pharma to monopolize the industry. “Rescheduling could push out the small businesses that built this industry,” she says. Her advocacy focuses on protecting diversity and ensuring the cannabis space remains accessible to underrepresented communities.
Macias’ approach to leadership is deeply personal. She mentors new license holders, shares insights on operational challenges and lobbies for policy changes to support small businesses. “I’ve been through it all: losing my house, fighting systemic biases and building from the ground up. I want to make sure the next generation has it easier,” she says.
Little Moments That Fuel The Fight
Despite the challenges, it’s the personal stories of her patients that fuel Macias’ commitment. She recalls a mother of six who, after being given six months to live, found hope through cannabis. Her life changed drastically.
Another patient, a professor with multiple sclerosis, went from being wheelchair-bound to walking. “These moments remind me why I fight,” she reflects.
However, balancing advocacy work with motherhood has not been without its challenges. Macias acknowledges the sacrifices her children have made and the stigma they’ve endured due to her work in cannabis. Reflecting on the impact, she shares, “My youngest daughter had to be sent to boarding school for her safety. It affected our relationship, but her safety came first.”
Over time, healing and understanding have helped repair those bonds. Today, some of her children work alongside her in the cannabis industry. Her youngest son, who grew up in a household that normalized cannabis as medicine, now does homework at her dispensary after school. Her oldest son, living with Crohn’s disease, uses cannabis for relief, and her youngest one has joined her professionally, bringing their family’s journey full circle. Macias also recalls training her children to use careful language, such as referring to cannabis only as medicine, to protect them from potential consequences.
Despite these hardships, Macias remains committed to her mission, viewing it as a legacy for her family and community. “They’ve seen the sacrifices and the threats, but they also know we’re doing this to create a better future—not just for us, but for everyone who comes after.”
The Giner Factor
Dr. Macias is no stranger to organizing impactful events, but the upcoming Women Grow 2025 Leadership Summit in Washington, D.C. (February 17 and 18) has tested her limits in new ways. “This has been the first time I’m doing a full-blown conference as the lead coordinator,” she says. The process has been humbling yet exhilarating, bringing together key figures in the cannabis industry to empower and inspire.
Among the event’s most anticipated moments is the participation of Brittney Griner, the WNBA star and Olympic gold medalist. Macias believes Griner embodies resilience and leadership in the face of adversity. “What I want to know the most, and what our community wants to know, is how someone goes from a place of adversity to resilience and leadership,” Macias explains. She is inspired by Griner’s journey: from incarceration in Russia to reclaiming her place as a world-class athlete. “She was a victim who claimed her victory, and so many of us need that kind of inspiration.”
Macias’ ability to secure Griner’s participation was a testament to her determination and advocacy skills. She revealed that it took numerous emails and consistent outreach to Griner’s team to make it happen. “It wasn’t easy,” Macias shared. “But I knew that her story could inspire so many. I just kept reaching out, showing how much this moment and this conversation could mean to our community.”
Griner’s triumphant return to the basketball court was highlighted by her performance at the 2024 Paris Olympics, where she secured her third Olympic gold medal with Team USA. The U.S. women’s basketball team edged out France 67-66 in a thrilling final, marking their eighth consecutive Olympic gold. During the medal ceremony, Griner was visibly emotional, reflecting on her journey and expressing deep appreciation for her country’s support. “My emotions are all over the place,” Griner said. “It means so much to me. My family didn’t think I would be here… and then to be here and win gold for my country, representing when my country fought for me so hard to even be standing here. Yeah, this gold medal is going to hold a special place.”
Inclusivity is another core focus of the summit, with efforts aimed at ensuring that all attendees feel represented and engaged. “I don’t want to exclude anyone from the cannabis conversation,” Macias says. She emphasizes the importance of creating spaces where everyone, regardless of their background, can access information and participate fully. “Everyone needs to know,” she adds.
Always Keep Trying
Macias’ reflections on her journey and the cannabis industry are grounded in her steadfast refusal to give up, even in the face of insurmountable odds. “‘No’ means keep trying,” she voices. “This is a core truth for me. It’s just what it is.”
Looking ahead, she sees both opportunities and significant challenges for the cannabis industry. High taxes, federal restrictions and the looming threat of corporate consolidation continue to stifle small businesses. “Taxation will kill your business,” she warns. The potential rescheduling of cannabis as a Schedule III substance could also have unintended consequences, allowing Big Pharma to dominate the industry. “They’re quietly setting themselves up and they will take over our industry if we allow it,” she cautions.
For Macias, advocacy remains a vital component of her work. She sees education as the foundation for the cannabis industry’s future. “If we don’t show people how to do it—advocacy, career development, operationalization—who will?” she asks. The Women Grow platform exemplifies this mission, empowering entrepreneurs and advocates alike.
Above all, Macias’s advice is rooted in her own experiences: resilience, dedication and an unwavering commitment to the greater good. “I made that vow as a healthcare professional,” she says. “If I’m not out there sharing this message, they might not have a second chance at life. That’s someone’s mother, someone’s sister, someone’s spouse. I can’t. It’s not right.”
“}]] The journey of Queen Zulu, Dr. Chanda Macias, from losing her home to pioneering a cannabis empire and inspiring Brittney Griner to embrace the power of the plant. Read More
