They say, “If you don’t have haters, you’re not popping.”

What they don’t say is how much noise haters can make when you’re building something real — or how quickly that noise turns into lies, humiliation, and attempts to tear you down.

I’ve been in this industry long before legalization.I was advising Jerry at Cannadreams when it was still a CBD shop. I spent three years with Happy Munkey, leading their marketing and building their website for the legal rebrand.I ran events for Hemp Lab, hosting powerhouse groups like Cannadivas and Cannaware. I was Head of IT for Eye Spot, a delivery service averaging 500 orders a day with up to date delivery tracking. I advised Rolling Js in their legacy days. I worked closely with Certz — the same group that supported me to build Cannabrite from the ground up. Without Certz, Cannabrite wouldn’t exist.

I am a business owner who has built something real in a space where nothing was handed to me.And yet, despite that record, I was defamed.

Called a scammer.A drug addict.Videotaped without my consent.Forced to file harassment charges. I received rape threats. There were people waiting outside my home.

And through all of it, most of you — women and peers who have known me for five years or more — never once asked for my side of the story.

Not one call.

Not one question.

Just silence.

The people who truly support me would never be caught in those comment sections.They’re business owners.

Leaders.

People of high morals who saw how disgusting those attacks were and refused to feed the spectacle.They don’t exploit someone’s pain for sport.

And here’s the part that should stop you in your tracks: my content doesn’t even feature my face.Because Cannabrite was never about me.

It’s about the men, the culture, the community this company was built to uplift.

And yet somehow, the very men my work celebrates are the ones who quietly supported me… while the women added to my humiliation.

Do you see how backwards that is?

When I was attacked and exploited for humiliation, those same men quietly reached out. They didn’t perform it for credit.

A simple, “I’m sorry this is happening to you. Stay strong,” carried more weight than the deafening silence of a hundred women.

Women I know personally.

Women who have my number.

Women who, before Cannabrite, knew exactly who I was and the work I put in.

One quiet word of encouragement outweighed 100 of your silences.

That’s how loud silence is.

That’s how damaging it is. Because when you stay silent in the face of harassment, defamation, and humiliation, you set a precedent.

You tell every man watching:

“It’s fine to target a woman in this industry. No one will stop you.”

You tell every woman watching:

“If you dare to build something of your own, you’ll be left to burn alone.”

You call yourselves advocates, leaders, protectors of women in cannabis — but where was that energy when it actually mattered?

Where was the “women supporting women” you love to hashtag?

Your silence isn’t neutrality.

It’s hypocrisy.

And it speaks volumes.

I shouldn’t have to list my credentials to deserve basic decency — but I just did because you seem to have forgotten.

I have spent years putting in the work, building something real in a space where nothing was handed to me. Your silence — and worse, your participation in my humiliation — has already done more damage than you may ever realize.

I didn’t just survive this industry — I built in it. I built something real in a space where nothing was handed to me.

Criticism doesn’t build anything. It doesn’t protect anyone. It doesn’t change the culture.

It just talks.

Meanwhile, I’ll keep building.

I’ll keep protecting my name, my company, and my community — even when you won’t protect your own.

And to the men who showed me quiet strength when I was under attack: I will never forget it. You didn’t exploit my pain. You didn’t pile on for sport. You showed me that character still exists in this industry — and that matters more than any comment section ever will.

Because I’m not here for applause.

I’m here to change the game.

And to those who chose silence or humiliation over solidarity: remember this moment.

The precedent you’ve set won’t just hurt me. One day, it will come for you.