Megs or LKS. Born in 90, raised in the Southern US. Unapologetically a lover of giant robots, Jedi knights, bishoujo senshi, Avengers, Ms. Darcy Lewis, Justice League members, and various other things. Fan fic writer with a particular soft spot for AUs. Please, feel free to ask me anything.
It was a Tuesday in 1981 when the San Francisco police kicked in the door.
Inside the small apartment, they expected to find a hardened criminal. They expected a drug kingpin. They expected resistance.
Instead, they found a 57-year-old waitress in an apron.
The air in the apartment smelled sweet, thick with chocolate and something earthier. On the kitchen counter, cooling on wire racks, were 54 dozen brownies.
The police officers began bagging the evidence. They confiscated nearly 18 pounds of marijuana. They handcuffed the woman, whose name was Mary Jane Rathbun.
She didn't look scared. She didn't look guilty.
She looked at the officers, smoothed her apron, and reportedly said, "I thought you guys were coming."
She was booked into the county jail. The headlines wrote themselves. A grandmother running a pot bakery. It seemed like a joke to the legal system, a quirky local news story about an older woman behaving badly.
But Mary wasn't baking for fun. And she certainly wasn't baking for profit.
To understand why Mary risked her freedom, you have to understand the silence of the early 1980s.
San Francisco was gripping the edge of a cliff. A mysterious illness was sweeping through the city, specifically targeting young men. Later, the world would know it as AIDS. But in those early days, it was just a death sentence that no one wanted to talk about.
Families were disowning their sons. Landlords were evicting tenants. Even doctors and nurses, paralyzed by the fear of the unknown, would sometimes leave food trays outside hospital doors, afraid to breathe the same air as their patients.
Men in their twenties were wasting away in sterile rooms, dying alone.
Mary knew what it felt like to lose a child.
Years earlier, in 1974, her daughter Peggy had been killed in a car accident. Peggy was only 22. The loss had hollowed Mary out, leaving a space in her heart that nothing seemed to fill.
When the judge sentenced Mary for that first arrest, he ordered her to perform 500 hours of community service. He likely thought the manual labor would teach her a lesson.
He sent her to the Shanti Project and San Francisco General Hospital.
It was a mistake that would change American history.
Mary walked into the AIDS wards when others were walking out. She didn't wear a hazmat suit. She didn't hold her breath. She saw rows of young men who looked like ghosts—skeletal, in pain, and terrified.
She saw "her kids."
She began mopping floors and changing sheets. But soon, she noticed something the doctors were missing. The harsh medications the men were taking caused violent nausea. They couldn't eat. They were starving to death as much as they were dying of the virus.
Mary knew a secret about the brownies she had been arrested for.
She knew they settled the stomach. She knew they brought back the appetite. She knew they could help a dying man sleep for a few hours without pain.
So, she made a choice.
She went back to her kitchen. She fired up the oven. She started mixing batter, not to sell, but to save.
Every morning, Mary would bake. She lived on a fixed income, surviving on Social Security checks that barely covered her rent. Yet, she spent nearly every dime on flour, sugar, and butter.
The most expensive ingredient—the cannabis—was donated. Local growers heard what she was doing. They began dropping off pounds of product at her door, free of charge.
She packed the brownies into a basket and took the bus to the hospital.
She walked room to room. She sat by the bedsides of men who hadn't seen their own mothers in years. She held their hands. She told them jokes. And she gave them brownies.
"Here, baby," she would say. "Eat this. It'll help."
And it did.
Nurses watched in amazement as patients who hadn't eaten in days began to ask for food. The constant retching stopped. The mood on the ward shifted from despair to a quiet sort of comfort.
Mary Jane Rathbun became "Brownie Mary."
For over a decade, this was her life. She baked roughly 600 brownies a day. She went through 50 pounds of flour a week. She became the mother to a generation of lost boys.
She washed their pajamas. She attended their funerals. She held them while they took their last breaths.
She did this while the government declared a "War on Drugs."
By the early 1990s, the political climate was hostile. Politicians were competing to see who could be "tougher" on crime. Mandatory minimum sentences were locking people away for decades.
In 1992, at the age of 70, Mary was arrested again.
This time, the stakes were lethal. She was charged with felonies. The district attorney looked at her rap sheet and saw a repeat offender. He threatened to send her to prison.
One prosecutor famously whispered to a colleague that he was going to "kick this old lady's ass."
They underestimated who they were dealing with.
They thought they were prosecuting a drug dealer. In reality, they were attacking the most beloved woman in San Francisco.
When the news broke that Brownie Mary was facing prison, the city erupted.
It wasn't just the activists who were angry. It was the doctors. It was the nurses. It was the parents who had watched Mary care for their dying sons when the government did nothing.
Mary turned her trial into a pulpit.
She arrived at court not as a defendant, but as a grandmother standing her ground. The media swarmed her. Reporters asked if she was afraid of prison. They asked if she would stop baking if they let her go.
Mary looked into the cameras, her voice gravelly and firm.
"If the narcs think I'm gonna stop baking brownies for my kids with AIDS," she said, "they can go fuck themselves in Macy's window."
The quote ran in newspapers across the country.
The court didn't stand a chance.
Testimony poured in. Doctors from San Francisco General Hospital wrote letters explaining that Mary’s brownies were medically necessary. Patients testified that she was an angel of mercy.
The charges were dropped.
Mary walked out of the courthouse a free woman. But she didn't go home to rest. She realized that her personal victory wasn't enough. As long as the law was broken, her "kids" were still in danger.
She needed to change the law.
August 25 was declared "Brownie Mary Day" by the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. It was a nice gesture, but Mary wanted policy, not plaques.
She teamed up with fellow activist Dennis Peron. Together, they opened the San Francisco Cannabis Buyers Club—the first public dispensary in the United States. It was a safe haven where patients could get their medicine without fear of arrest.
But Mary wanted more. She wanted the state of California to acknowledge the truth.
She campaigned for Proposition 215. She traveled the state, despite her failing health. She spoke in her simple, direct way. She didn't talk about liberties or economics. She talked about compassion. She talked about pain.
She forced voters to look at the issue through the eyes of a grandmother.
In 1996, Proposition 215 passed. California became the first state to legalize medical marijuana.
It was a domino effect. Because one woman refused to let her "kids" suffer, the public perception of cannabis shifted. The Economist later noted that Mary was single-handedly responsible for changing the national conversation.
She never got rich.
She had always joked that if legalization ever happened, she would sell her recipe to Betty Crocker and buy a Victorian house for her patients to live in.
She never sold the recipe. She never bought the house.
Mary Jane Rathbun died in 1999, at the age of 77. She passed away in a nursing home, poor in money but rich in legacy.
Today, over 30 states have legalized medical marijuana. Millions of people use it to manage pain, seizures, and nausea.
Most of them have never heard of Mary.
They don't know that their legal prescription exists because a waitress in San Francisco decided that the law was wrong and her heart was right.
They don't know about the 600 brownies a day.
They don't know about the thousands of hospital visits.
Mary didn't set out to be a hero. She told the Chicago Tribune years before she died, "I didn't go into this thinking I would be a hero."
She was just a mother who had lost her daughter, trying to help boys who had lost their way.
She proved that authority doesn't always equal morality.
She proved that sometimes, the most patriotic thing a citizen can do is break a bad law.
Every August, a few people in San Francisco still celebrate Brownie Mary Day. But her true memorial isn't a date on a calendar.
It is found in every oncology ward where a patient finds relief. It is found in every dispensary door that opens without fear.
It is found in the simple, quiet courage of anyone who sees suffering and refuses to look away.
Mary taught us that you don't need a law degree to change the world. You don't need millions of dollars. You don't need political office.
Sometimes, all you need is a mixing bowl, an oven, and enough love to tell the world to get out of your way.
Sources: New York Times Obituary (1999), "Brownie Mary" Rathbun. San Francisco Chronicle Archives (1992, 1996). History.com, "The History of Medical Marijuana." Weird Everything, FB december 12, 2025
I'd be only too happy to do that. I was suspicious to start, too. It seemed a bit on the nose to have the weed brownie grandma named "Mary Jane," but also, that's a very common combination in a certain place and time, so I thought it was worth the extra effort.
What I did was find sources that made the claim (in this case, that a woman named Mary Jane was a medicinal marijuana activist in California, USA in the 1980s and 90s.) I checked the dates to get some certainty those sources aren't AI slop, then checked that the sources are generally reliable.
Then I followed useful details about the place and time, and other people involved, to explore it more fully.
The first thing I did was search for "Brownie Mary" and see if that turned anything up at all. It turned up a LOT of results. Predictably, some of them were recipes, but not all of them.
Next up, I checked sources and dates. Wikipedia can be dodgy for academic use, but their policy on LLM-generated input is very clear: they don't want slop. I started by reading that page and then went on to read others.
The Atlas Obscura article is from 2018. I found another one from SFWeekly from 2017.
Both of those are decent sources - Atlas Obscura gets a High factual reporting rate from MediaBiasFactCheck, and while MBFC doesn't have a rating for SFWeekly, the verbiage in that article is very close to what GastroObscura has. (Also to what the post itself has, right down to the choice of pull quote.)
Now, we can stop there and feel pretty confident that articles published before the wide availability of LLMs are not, in fact, LLM generated.
...or we can go deeper, and run this all the way back to source.
I spotted references to a Chicago Tribune imterview of Mary Jane Rathbun, published in 1993.
My search string of "Chicago Tribune 1993 Mary Jane Rathbun" hit it in the top 3 results. That article includes some fun new details: she wore a cannabis leaf shaped pendant to her trial!
She also objected to being portrayed as a cuddly grandma up against The Man, so I must retract my flippant tags, above.
The evidence now strongly points to Brownie Mary being a real woman who really went to court for giving AIDS patients weed brownies. But can we get closer? I've now seen several mentions of a 1980 attempt at convicting her too.
The articles have mentioned Sonoma County and a nonprofit called the Shanti Project, so let's hook onto that and see what we get.
Searching for "Mary Jane Rathbun Sonoma County 1980" gets me an article from a law firm; that mentions the prosecuting attorney by name, and points to a book: Lust for Justice: The Radical Life & Law of J. Tony Serra, by Paulette Frankl. It even has an excerpt!
We can run the book down too, just for fun (now we have a primary source.) My favorite used book site has a copy for $1. Amazon gives a view of the back cover, too:
...wow. I should see if my library has that!
The excerpt on the site has a mention of a candelight vigil held for her death in 1999. It took some hunting past things I'd already read and a bunch of shops giving written tributes, but I found a news report about that, too.
There's a lot of information out there, and it's worth digging into. Otherwise it's altogether too easy to think something real and worth knowing is just another bit of slop.
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@tatsu-rose oh my god i just imagined a tesla trying to retrace our death drive in costa rica
the good news is we probably wouldn't have gotten the chance to hurdle off a muddy cliff because it would have short circuited by the second river crossing
And that’s a nice dirt road! It looks mostly flat and not carved very deeply into the ground! Plus it looks like someone maintains it because it’s got gravel! He probably wouldn’t hit any gullies, but if he did, he’d be able to drive around them easy! Or if he met another car neither one of em would have to do the Careful Passing Creep!
But seriously, this guy’s obviously an urbanite. Not to throw shade at people who live mostly in city/urban/suburban areas, but to see an apparently well-maintained dirt road and think he’s off-roading just because there’s no pavement or road signs screams “city boy.” I regularly drove down roads like that in my 1993 Ford Escort. For any one who doesn’t live out in the country, if there’s been enough traffic to carve out tire paths in grass, it’s a trail at the very least, so your mileage may vary on whether to call it off-roading. If there’s gravel - even if there’s grass growing in the middle of the tire paths - it’s maintained by someone, and thus a road.
Now, what I am gonna throw shade over is this guy crowing about doin this in a Cybercuck. Go find you a good red-clay muddin’ trail to go down and then we can talk about how awesome your daily driver is sweetie. Good luck getting all the muck out from under all the shitty panel gaps.
i taped foil behind the eyes lol cuz it was really hard to see any red on the eyes
my favorite part is the butt wings!!! Good shapes!!!! but i just really like the entire loadout on this cat. it has guns, and more guns, an ammo belt and a cute backpack of explosives :3
"wahh i only like enemies to lovers if it's gay bc i don't want men to be mean to women" what about a woman doing heinous shit to a man and that man (who also sucks) being pathetically psychosexually obsessed with her. you people have no fucking vision. if you were willing to read & write women doing actual wrongs this wouldn't be a problem. let that female character commit atrocities with the sole goal of ruining one guy's life while they have weird sexual tension about it
it doesn’t matter. you will still have fun baking a distastrous looking bread loaf. you will still have fun painting a technically bad painting. you will get happy brain chemicals dancing like a weirdo. be bad on purpose.
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you have this mysterious fish that no one really cared about, because everyone assumed they’d gone extinct with the dinosaurs. an interesting footnote, but one of many, many fossil species.
and later the coelacanth gets some fame as a so-called “missing link” species, a theory which is now outdated (and not accurate for coelacanths) but was really influential at the time. because they have some weird biological quirks – bones in fins! – people were like “oh, they must be a missing link.” so the coelacanth was launched into some fame with the theory of evolution. it got brought up a lot. drawn in old textbooks as proof.
and then a fisherman finds a weird fish off the coast of south africa and calls a local fish expert who had let it be known she was interested in weird finds, and he brings her the (unfortunately badly rotted) corpse and she’s like “well, this is sure weird,” and sends off the bones to other experts, who start to quietly freak out, and rush to south africa, and rewards are offered for another one, any other one, and a few years later one is caught and frozen before rotting.
and it’s this incredible discovery, this extinct creature come to life (the prehistoric coelacanth lived in swamps and marshes in south america; these now are deep ocean fish in and around the indian ocean, but it’s still recognizably the same species)!
but it’s also blue.
not like, muddy blue, or tumblr-default-background blue.
proper shimmering sapphire blue and white. almost turquoise in some lights. this like… muddy, fossil creature. always drawn in dinosaur browns and grays. and it’s alive and it’s blue. just imagine being the scientist who opened that crate to this creature for the first time. you’re already excited, you’ve known about this fish for decades, you thought it was a story, you know it’s in this box. you expect to see the weird fins and the strange tail. you know it’s large and odd looking. and you open it up and it’s this beautiful, shining blue, you know?
I think a lot of people would benefit from unlearning the idea that casual sex is inherently disgusting, harmful, or immoral just because they personally don’t want to partake in it. You can stand up for sexual safety and consent without acting like people who enjoy fucking strangers are degenerates. I take no issue with anyone asserting boundaries or stating that they’re not interested in certain kinds of sex or even sex as a whole. But when you condemn or express disgust at others for engaging in consensual sex, that’s when you start to sound like a puritan.
Btw, this includes self-proclaimed “feminists” who shame and lecture women for giving men “access” to their bodies. Bodies are not commodities and sex is not inherently transactional. You don’t lose anything by having sex on purpose with a person you find attractive. Sex is not some metaphysically transformative thing that bonds you to the other person forever. It is literally not that deep.
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Okay @syntheros-artemidos, this is the rundown in as neutral a way I can write it:
A man and a woman went on a date. The man says on the first date that sexual compatibility is a priority for him, and that he's interested in having sex early on. The woman says she doesn't know if that's what she wants.
Apparently things went well enough though for the two to plan a second date, which is apparently to happen at her home.
Since the woman said she wasn't sure if she wanted to be physically intimate, he feels like he's getting mixed signals being invited over, so he sends her a voice memo. In the voice memo, he reiterates that he wants to have sex, and that if she's not interested in that he doesn't see the point of continuing. He says it's okay if that's not what she wants, and if that's the case they shouldn't keep seeing each other.
Then, the woman shared the voice memo with a friend, and the friend uploaded that voice memo to the internet.
Because nothing is allowed to be private in the modern panopticon.
There are two prevailing interpretations of this situation.
One, which is the one I tend to agree with, is that he got mixed messages, made his wants clear, and sent them to her when there was physical distance so she wouldn't feel pressure to not turn him down. It was literally just a potential second date and they started as strangers, so he was pretty much saying "hey, we shouldn't waste each other's time if we don't want the same thing." She clearly didn't, and beyond the weird need to violate his privacy, it was the optimal outcome for these two people to just part ways.
Like was he the smoothest when he said what he said? No. But it was a pretty straight forward. I should note that this is the interpretation that most queer creators seem to be going with too.
Because, uh, the second interpretation is kind of wild.
You see, the other group of people think he was being entitled asking for sex. That somehow, him leaving the voice mail is an act of coercion (even though he has no power over her and there is no implied threat of violence -- since he was making sure he talked about it while he was literally nowhere near her). Also, people are wildly claiming that if he got her to say yes to sex in a text that somehow it would be considered consent in a legal case in case he raped her. Which is, y'know, not how consent works.
(I honestly think a lot of people were projecting their own trauma onto things)
There are also a bunch of people effectively shaming him for wanting to have a casual sexual relationship at all, and that somehow there was something wrong with him for not wanting the same thing that she wanted. People saying that folks looking for hookups shouldn't be using dating apps (as if someone looking for a romantic relationship might not be prioritizing sex too). Mostly just a bunch of puritan culture weirdness, and some people wanting to date for the performance of dating over the desire to find a compatible partner, etc.
queer people need to stay out of straight relationship discourse because a lot of you guys don’t understand the dynamics at all and force queer terminology onto a situation that it doesn’t apply to.
don’t you think it’s a problem that this second interpretation is mostly coming from queer people who often don’t date men in the first place? ask any straight woman who has dated before and she will tell you how often this has happened to her. i’ve had multiple friends in this situation because this is a common trick men use to guarantee sex before the date even starts. what do you think will happen if they say yes the date? the man will not put any effort in cuz he knows he will get sex anyways and the woman will feel pressured to have sex even if she changes her mind halfway through.
this is not a highly sensible young man drawing a boundary and communicating clearly, this is a common trick men use to test the woman’s boundaries and how far they’re willing to be pushed. by this definition, every creepy guy dming women for nudes is also communicating his wishes clearly, no one gets points for that. this is entirely the result of men viewing women as just vaginas to fuck and instead you’ve spun him into some misunderstood victim.
Well I just got done fucking your dad, and he pointed out that you don't think that queer people are human beings.
I wasn't going to respond to this, but the exorsexism/enbyphobia was just a step too far. The only reason anyone is saying he's a "victim" in this situation is because a private voice memo was shared to millions of people on the public internet without his consent.
That's it.
That's a line that so many people seem to be ignoring.
And I don't know y'all, is asking if a woman thinks she'll want to have sex "a common trick men use to guarantee sex before the date even starts" or is it literally the only way to find out if someone wants to have sex? I would love a clear explanation as to how else a person is supposed to find out if someone else wants to have sex with you if asking isn't allowed.
Hey, jumping in here to throw out this lil nugget - if your default assumption is that men who are asking about sex are doing it to be predatory - and that being AMAB somehow indicates a need to defend men - congratulations your latent TERF is showing!
And no, I as a woman who dated men never had any of them trying to ask me for sex before a date as a form of pressure. Did have one guy talk about it with me before our first date and it was literally to make sure I was into the idea. He was respectful about it and I didn’t feel pressured at all. We just celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary yesterday.
Maybe we stop treating every man or masculine-presenting person as a threat and every woman or feminine-presenting person as a victim, yeah?
Remember when joining fandom as a younger person meant lurking for a bit and figuring out the vibe and etiquette instead of coming in on day one and calling people weirdos for liking weirdo shit in the weirdo factory.
Okay @syntheros-artemidos, this is the rundown in as neutral a way I can write it:
A man and a woman went on a date. The man says on the first date that sexual compatibility is a priority for him, and that he's interested in having sex early on. The woman says she doesn't know if that's what she wants.
Apparently things went well enough though for the two to plan a second date, which is apparently to happen at her home.
Since the woman said she wasn't sure if she wanted to be physically intimate, he feels like he's getting mixed signals being invited over, so he sends her a voice memo. In the voice memo, he reiterates that he wants to have sex, and that if she's not interested in that he doesn't see the point of continuing. He says it's okay if that's not what she wants, and if that's the case they shouldn't keep seeing each other.
Then, the woman shared the voice memo with a friend, and the friend uploaded that voice memo to the internet.
Because nothing is allowed to be private in the modern panopticon.
There are two prevailing interpretations of this situation.
One, which is the one I tend to agree with, is that he got mixed messages, made his wants clear, and sent them to her when there was physical distance so she wouldn't feel pressure to not turn him down. It was literally just a potential second date and they started as strangers, so he was pretty much saying "hey, we shouldn't waste each other's time if we don't want the same thing." She clearly didn't, and beyond the weird need to violate his privacy, it was the optimal outcome for these two people to just part ways.
Like was he the smoothest when he said what he said? No. But it was a pretty straight forward. I should note that this is the interpretation that most queer creators seem to be going with too.
Because, uh, the second interpretation is kind of wild.
You see, the other group of people think he was being entitled asking for sex. That somehow, him leaving the voice mail is an act of coercion (even though he has no power over her and there is no implied threat of violence -- since he was making sure he talked about it while he was literally nowhere near her). Also, people are wildly claiming that if he got her to say yes to sex in a text that somehow it would be considered consent in a legal case in case he raped her. Which is, y'know, not how consent works.
(I honestly think a lot of people were projecting their own trauma onto things)
There are also a bunch of people effectively shaming him for wanting to have a casual sexual relationship at all, and that somehow there was something wrong with him for not wanting the same thing that she wanted. People saying that folks looking for hookups shouldn't be using dating apps (as if someone looking for a romantic relationship might not be prioritizing sex too). Mostly just a bunch of puritan culture weirdness, and some people wanting to date for the performance of dating over the desire to find a compatible partner, etc.
queer people need to stay out of straight relationship discourse because a lot of you guys don’t understand the dynamics at all and force queer terminology onto a situation that it doesn’t apply to.
don’t you think it’s a problem that this second interpretation is mostly coming from queer people who often don’t date men in the first place? ask any straight woman who has dated before and she will tell you how often this has happened to her. i’ve had multiple friends in this situation because this is a common trick men use to guarantee sex before the date even starts. what do you think will happen if they say yes the date? the man will not put any effort in cuz he knows he will get sex anyways and the woman will feel pressured to have sex even if she changes her mind halfway through.
this is not a highly sensible young man drawing a boundary and communicating clearly, this is a common trick men use to test the woman’s boundaries and how far they’re willing to be pushed. by this definition, every creepy guy dming women for nudes is also communicating his wishes clearly, no one gets points for that. this is entirely the result of men viewing women as just vaginas to fuck and instead you’ve spun him into some misunderstood victim.
Well I just got done fucking your dad, and he pointed out that you don't think that queer people are human beings.
I wasn't going to respond to this, but the exorsexism/enbyphobia was just a step too far. The only reason anyone is saying he's a "victim" in this situation is because a private voice memo was shared to millions of people on the public internet without his consent.
That's it.
That's a line that so many people seem to be ignoring.
And I don't know y'all, is asking if a woman thinks she'll want to have sex "a common trick men use to guarantee sex before the date even starts" or is it literally the only way to find out if someone wants to have sex? I would love a clear explanation as to how else a person is supposed to find out if someone else wants to have sex with you if asking isn't allowed.
Hey, jumping in here to throw out this lil nugget - if your default assumption is that men who are asking about sex are doing it to be predatory - and that being AMAB somehow indicates a need to defend men - congratulations your latent TERF is showing!
And no, I as a woman who dated men never had any of them trying to ask me for sex before a date as a form of pressure. Did have one guy talk about it with me before our first date and it was literally to make sure I was into the idea. He was respectful about it and I didn’t feel pressured at all. We just celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary yesterday.
Maybe we stop treating every man or masculine-presenting person as a threat and every woman or feminine-presenting person as a victim, yeah?
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A sparkling's metal is muuuch thinner and more fragile than that of a warframe. The first time Decepticons tried to wash Optimus in one of the barracks' showers, the industrial solvent left his plating covered in painful irritation. Some of his paint was stripped away, and the scratches it left became scars that ached for a whole week afterward.
After that incident, they developed a specialized bath using carefully balanced chemical mixtures gentle enough not to damage a sparkling's delicate frame. Even so, little OP was left with mental damage, and to this cycle, he absolutely hates bath time.
