My Journey from Federal Prison to Activist of the Year
Here’s how it happened: I was released from federal prison in 2013 after serving eight years for a federal cannabis conviction.
Deep down, I knew that serving eight years for a cannabis conviction wasn’t fair, but I didn’t fully understand that there was a movement, and that millions of Americans believed I shouldn’t be behind bars for cannabis-related crimes. Most people thought my sentence was excessive, especially when you consider the minimal harm I caused by selling cannabis.
Fast forward to January 2022: Minnesota legalized THC through gummies-
I knew right then that I was quitting my granite countertop business, Epic Granite, which I had owned and operated since my release in 2013. My first real introduction to cannabis activism came through a Facebook message, which led to a phone call with Randy Lanier. I had watched a captivating Netflix documentary, The Need for Weed, which told Randy Lanier’s life story—his life sentence without parole for cannabis and his eventual release. Inspired by his true story, I reached out to Randy on Facebook, and he responded, telling me about Freedom Grow, an organization dedicated to helping cannabis inmates.
That conversation triggered something in my mind. I realized that my new life, running a legal low-dose THC edible business, had the potential to intersect with activism for cannabis prisoners. I knew I had to put major energy into helping get those still locked up for cannabis released.
The Pain and Irony
If you’ve never lived it, you can’t fully understand the pain and irony. Selling THC, whether it’s low-dose gummies or not, is sometimes too much to bear. I spent eight years of my life in prison for low-quality Mexican brick weed, and now legal THC is being sold everywhere in Minnesota. The progress in the cannabis industry—turning hemp into CBD, then converting CBD into THC, and finally creating low-dose THC products like 10-milligram gummies—is incredible but also deeply insulting to those still incarcerated for cannabis offenses.
Minnesota’s Democrats recognized the irony and responded by including strong social equity measures in the cannabis legislation. These measures gave me a leg up in the cannabis industry by providing me with an early opportunity for licensing through the state’s Social Equity Department, led by the talented Jessica Jackson. She understands the injustices faced by people like my friend Edwin Rubis, who has been incarcerated for 27 years for cannabis and still has 8 more years left on his sentence. But these social equity measures did far more than just help me in the industry. They were the reason I became an activist and, eventually, was named Activist of the Year. It’s as if the state government of Minnesota is saying they don’t agree with the federal government’s stance on cannabis enforcement, and they want me to share my story to help inspire change in our country’s federal cannabis laws.
For the first time, through a legal bill in my state, I was told—in writing—that my prison sentence was wrong. The state of Minnesota and society, in general, acknowledged that I, Travis Cullen, a 40-year-old man who had served 10 years in prison, should be part of normal society. Being able to look my mother in the eyes and say, “See, the government messed up,” was deeply meaningful to me
From Surviving in Prison to Becoming an Activist
I took the lessons I had learned from surviving in prison and applied them to my new role as an activist. I sought out older activists who had been fighting for cannabis reform for decades. That’s when I met two amazing people—Oliver and Sue, both of whom are in their 60s and have been fighting for cannabis legalization in Minnesota for years through the Green Party. They agreed that the next fight, now that cannabis had been legalized, was to help those still locked up for cannabis offenses.
The Big Night: Activism Comes Full Circle
Then, on August 1, 2023, the big night arrived. It was a cannabis legalization event at First Avenue, organized by Representative Jess Hanson, whom I had met just a week earlier. I shared my story with her about going to prison at 21 for eight years due to cannabis. She responded, saying, “I want you to speak at the cannabis legalization event.” My first thought was, “Yes! Absolutely, I’ll be there!” Once again, I had the chance to tell my story and let my mother know that lawmakers were acknowledging I shouldn’t have been locked up.
When I arrived at the event, I was given a backstage pass. I was nervous—me, Travis Cullen, the guy who’s always been handcuffed, was suddenly invited backstage with important lawmakers. I honestly thought I was just going to go on stage and leave. But when I nervously approached security with my badge, I was let in behind the scenes. There, I found myself among influential politicians like Zach Stevenson, Lindsey Port, and Jess Hanson. And then I realized—Ilhan Omar was there too.
At that moment, I couldn’t believe it. These people weren’t afraid of me. They trusted me and wanted to hear my story. Zach Stevenson, the lead representative for the cannabis bill, shook my hand and said, “You shouldn’t have gone to prison for that long.” That moment blew my mind—Zach is a high-level prosecutor!
Activism Growing Bigger
Since that night, my activism has grown bigger and bigger. I never forget that my power comes from the voices of those still behind bars. I strive to amplify their stories, ensuring that the fight for justice continues.