I am pissed. And I feel helpless. And I know I’m not the only one.
We received an email from HIFA (Hemp Industry and Farmers of America) this morning that said:
“We need to be honest: we’re disappointed. The three-year extension didn’t make it into the continuing resolution. Congress didn’t listen, and that decision will harm American farmers making planting decisions right now, devastate small businesses operating in good faith, and hurt seniors and veterans who depend on legal hemp products.”
I was raised to be patriotic — to believe that participation mattered, that voting mattered, that showing up meant your voice counted. Not in a blind or performative way, but in a grounded, civic way. That belief is cracking.
Since opening our small business, I’ve seen the federal government differently. Not as an abstract system, but as something that actively shapes whether families like mine can survive. What I see now is a government that talks about the people while listening almost exclusively to money, power, and access.
Fear is used as a tool. Complexity is used as a shield. And the largest players — the ones with lobbyists and lawyers — get to shape the rules the rest of us live under.
Recently, our 19-year-old told us he wasn’t going to register to vote because it feels pointless. Not because he doesn’t care. Because he does. He sees a system that doesn’t respond to regular people and he doesn’t believe participation changes the outcome. That should alarm anyone who claims to care about democracy.
I vote. Every time. I email my representatives. Repeatedly. And what I get back are polished, empty responses thanking me for my thoughts and assuring me they’ll vote based on “what’s best” for my state. Except what they vote for is never in the best interest of small businesses like ours……or the families behind them.
So no, I don’t believe they’re listening. Because if they were, representation wouldn’t feel like shouting into a void and receiving a form letter in return.
This isn’t about one party. I’ve been registered with one since I was 18 — back when I didn’t fully understand what that meant. I understand now. And I’m fed up with a two-party system that demands loyalty while delivering very little accountability. We’re told to fall in line or risk “the other side” winning, while donors and lobbyists win either way.
As a small business owner, this isn’t theoretical. It’s operational.
Unclear regulations affect pricing.
Sudden policy shifts affect payroll.
Compliance costs land on us immediately……while large corporations get carve-outs, timelines, and legal buffers.
We’re praised as “the backbone of the economy” and treated as disposable in practice.
And if you want a clear example of how broken policy hurts people, look at cannabis.
We already know what happens when cannabis….hemp or marijuana……is forced underground. We don’t have to speculate. We lived it for decades. Prohibition didn’t stop use. It didn’t make communities safer. It destroyed families, criminalized nonviolent behavior, and wasted taxpayer dollars on drug busts that were celebrated like public service announcements.
People didn’t turn to medical cannabis because the plant suddenly became acceptable. They did it because it was the only legal path to something that never should have been illegal in the first place. The law was the problem……not the plant.
And now, instead of learning from that failure, policymakers are repeating it. Restricting. Squeezing. Creating instability that pushes people back toward unregulated markets…..while compliant, transparent businesses are punished for following the rules.
This isn’t about hemp. It isn’t about cannabis. It’s about a government that keeps ignoring reality; and the people paying the price.
When governments stop listening, people don’t stop needing solutions. They just stop trusting the system. That’s how things go underground. That’s how faith erodes. That’s how you end up with disengaged voters, frustrated business owners, and entire generations who feel like the system was never built for them.
What makes people angry isn’t disagreement. It’s indifference.
What makes people feel helpless isn’t losing. It’s not being heard.
We don’t need more talking points.
We don’t need more “thank you for your feedback” emails.
We don’t need fear-based policy or power protected by bureaucracy.
We need leadership that listens. That explains. That acts transparently; even when the answers are uncomfortable.
I’m not disengaging. I’m not silent. And I’m not pretending this is fine.
If people are angry, it’s because they care.
If people feel helpless, it’s because their voices keep hitting a wall.
And ignoring that won’t make it go away.
We’re constantly told to “contact our representatives.”
To “show up.”
To “stay engaged.”
But let’s be honest about something most people already know:
Many of our leaders don’t actually want participation.
They want compliance.
If they wanted participation, they’d show up.
Instead, they send staff.
They don’t hold real office hours.
They don’t answer hard questions directly.
They don’t engage with the people who elected them unless it’s scripted, filtered, or politically convenient.
And no — they are not “too busy.”
I did not vote to talk to a staffer.
I did not cast my ballot so my concerns could be summarized, softened, or screened before they ever reach the person in office.
I voted for representation; not a customer service queue.
Staff serve a purpose, but they are not substitutes for accountability. When elected officials insulate themselves behind aides, form letters, and closed-door access, they’re not listening; they’re managing distance.
Listening would require showing up in rooms without donors.
Listening would require hearing things they don’t agree with.
Listening would require explaining votes to the people affected by them; not justifying them to party leadership or funders.
What we have instead is a system designed to absorb pressure without changing course.
Participation is encouraged in theory, but discouraged in practice.
Engagement is praised, then ignored.
Anger is labeled “divisive” instead of examined.
And when people disengage, they’re blamed; even though the message has been clear for years: your input will be acknowledged, but not acted on.
That’s not a failure of citizenship.
That’s a failure of leadership.
Real listening would look like elected officials being accessible; not just electable. It would look like direct answers, not talking points. It would look like responsibility instead of delegation.
Until then, people will keep feeling helpless.
They’ll keep feeling angry.
And they’ll keep questioning whether participation is real or performative.
That’s not cynicism.
That’s pattern recognition.
If you’ve read our blogs before, you already know this about me:
I’m a spitfire.
My brain moves fast. My thoughts come in hot. I have opinions, feelings, and zero interest in pretending I don’t. I’ve joked before that I probably need help taming my thoughts …..and honestly, that part is true.
But let’s be clear about something.
Having a big personality does not mean I’m imagining the current political reality in the United States.
Being passionate does not make these concerns exaggerated.
Being outspoken does not make the system functional.
And needing to rein myself in sometimes does not mean the landscape suddenly becomes healthy if I quiet down.
I can laugh at myself and still tell the truth.
Yes, I get fired up.
Yes, I vent.
Yes, I sometimes have to reread something before hitting publish.
But none of that changes what people across the country are feeling right now; frustration, exhaustion, and the growing sense that participation has become symbolic instead of meaningful.
You don’t have to be “political” to feel it.
You don’t have to agree with me on policy to recognize it.
You just have to be paying attention.
I can work on softening my delivery. I can take a breath. I can choose my words carefully. But I’m not going to gaslight myself — or anyone else — into believing that the system is responsive simply because acknowledging otherwise makes people uncomfortable.
Sometimes the messenger is loud because the message keeps getting ignored.
So yes — I’m a spitfire.
And yes — I’m trying to channel that energy productively.
But don’t confuse tone with truth.
Because even on my calmest day, the reality of the political landscape doesn’t magically improve, and neither does the silence around it.
Jam’n was built by a family — not a boardroom, not a lobbying firm, not a staff-filtered inbox. We follow the rules, pay the fees, file the paperwork, and do our work in the open. We did not build this company to be talked about by politicians who won’t talk to us. We are not asking for favors. We are asking for direct accountability from the people we elected; not their representatives’ representatives. Small businesses, families, and communities deserve more than distance dressed up as leadership; And we’re done pretending otherwise because pretend is for tv not reality.
PS. Both Florida Senators Rick Scott and Ashley Moody voted for the bill containing the hemp ban. Florida Attorney General James Uthmeier has also spoken in favor of the prohibition. Keep this in mind when voting.
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