Wanda James, CU, and the Tea on THC: Race, Cannabis, and a Campus Reckoning

In a tumultuous episode that lays bare the deep intersections of race, cannabis policy, and institutional power, Wanda L. James—entrepreneur, advocate, and University of Colorado (CU) Regent—finds herself at the center of a controversy that has sparked statewide debate and national attention. Her vocal opposition to CU Anschutz’s “The Tea on THC” campaign, a multimillion-dollar public health initiative, has not only ignited accusations of racial insensitivity but also triggered an independent investigation into her ethics and motives. The reverberations from this conflict are poised to shape conversations about representation, equity, and the future of cannabis policy in Colorado and beyond.

The Tea on THC: A Campaign Under Fire

At the heart of this unfolding drama lies “The Tea on THC,” a campaign spearheaded by CU’s School of Medicine and aimed at illuminating the risks associated with high-potency marijuana use. Backed by several million dollars in funding, the campaign’s visuals sought to educate the public about adverse outcomes linked to cannabis consumption. But in its execution, the campaign made a misstep that would soon overshadow its intended message.
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The campaign’s illustrations drew immediate scrutiny for their portrayal of a dark-skinned individual experiencing a host of negative effects—aging, cognitive decline, poor academic performance—while white individuals remained notably absent from depictions of harm. To Wanda James, the message was clear, and deeply troubling: the campaign, perhaps unintentionally, reinforced pernicious stereotypes by associating cannabis harms primarily with Black bodies.

James, herself a trailblazer as both a CU Regent and a prominent Denver dispensary owner, called out the campaign’s imagery as “offensive and anti-Black.” In emphatic public statements and direct outreach—including to Colorado Governor Jared Polis—she demanded accountability, transparency, and a reallocation of the campaign’s substantial funding toward social equity programs that could begin to redress the cannabis industry’s long legacy of racial injustice.

Public Outcry and Institutional Response

James’s critique was not an isolated voice. The campaign’s visuals provoked widespread backlash from Black professionals, community leaders, and advocates for racial justice, many of whom saw the illustrations as a setback in the ongoing quest for equity in both higher education and cannabis policy. The university responded quickly to the immediate outcry, pulling the contentious images from circulation. Yet, the campaign itself continued to run through June, raising questions about institutional responsiveness and accountability.

Beneath the surface, however, deeper tensions simmered. The controversy cast a stark spotlight on the ways universities and public health entities communicate about cannabis—a substance that, for decades, has been a flashpoint in debates over racial profiling, mass incarceration, and social justice. For many, the campaign’s missteps were not merely a matter of poor design, but symptomatic of broader failures to center marginalized voices and histories in policy discourse.

The Dual Role Dilemma: Conflict of Interest or Courageous Advocacy?

As the campaign’s fallout intensified, attention shifted from the university’s actions to those of Wanda James herself. Her dual role—as a CU Regent, charged with stewarding the university’s interests, and as a cannabis dispensary owner, with clear financial stakes in the industry—became fodder for critics. Accusations surfaced that James’s advocacy was not solely principled, but also potentially self-serving: was she leveraging her regent position to shield her business interests and influence university policy for personal gain?

These questions prompted CU’s Board of Regents to initiate an independent review, citing the institution’s conflict of interest policy, which requires that regents’ decisions remain uninfluenced by personal or financial factors. The specter of possible censure loomed, casting a pall over James’s reputation and raising the stakes of the unfolding debate.

James, for her part, vehemently rejected the allegations. She characterized the investigation as a “smear campaign”—an orchestrated attempt to silence her for calling out what she described as racist tropes embedded in the campaign’s design. In her telling, the inquiry was not about ethics, but about power: an effort to “end a Black voice in Colorado,” to marginalize dissent and preserve the status quo.

Race, Representation, and the Battle for Institutional Equity

The response from Colorado’s Black community was swift and resolute. Prominent professionals, activists, and community members rallied to James’s defense, framing the investigation as emblematic of a broader pattern—one in which Black leaders who challenge entrenched systems are met with disproportionate scrutiny and sanction. The controversy, they argued, was less about conflict of interest than about whose interests the university was ultimately willing to protect.

These are not simply rhetorical questions. They strike at the core of Colorado’s—and America’s—reckoning with the legacy of the drug war, the realities of systemic racism, and the future of equitable leadership in public institutions.

The Stakes: Beyond One Campaign, A Broader Reckoning

While the “Tea on THC” campaign may have concluded, the issues it surfaced remain unresolved. The controversy has forced the University of Colorado to confront its own practices—not only in designing public health campaigns, but in how it listens to and values the diverse voices within its leadership and student body. The allocation of millions of dollars in public funding, the question of who gets to shape health and social policy, and the mechanisms for holding power to account—all are now on the table.

For Wanda James, the stakes are both personal and political. She stands at the crossroads of multiple, often conflicting, identities: as a business owner in a rapidly evolving cannabis industry, as a policymaker entrusted with public trust, and as a Black woman challenging the narratives imposed on her community. Her story is a microcosm of the larger battles being waged across the nation, as institutions everywhere grapple with the demands of equity and the pushback such demands inevitably provoke.

What Comes Next?

The outcome of the investigation into James’s conduct remains to be seen. What is certain, however, is that this episode has catalyzed a critical dialogue about the intersection of race, representation, and responsibility in Colorado’s public institutions. The support James has received from across the state signals a growing impatience with business as usual—and a readiness to challenge the systems that have too often failed to serve all Coloradans equally.

As the University of Colorado charts its path forward, it faces a choice: Will it embrace the discomfort of true institutional change, or retreat into the safety of procedural neutrality? For observers across higher education, cannabis policy, and racial justice spheres, the answer will serve as a bellwether for what kind of leadership—and what kind of future—Colorado is prepared to foster.

In the end, the story of Wanda James and the “Tea on THC” campaign is more than a campus controversy. It is a case study in the complexities of progress, the costs of speaking truth to power, and the enduring need for vigilance in the pursuit of justice. As the dust settles, one thing is clear: the conversation is far from over.