Rooted in Freedom
As an enrolled member of the Nez Perce Tribe of the Columbia River Plateau and a descendant of Chief Looking Glass, Oatman is on a mission to bring Indigenous communities back into the conversation around cannabis, hemp, and plant-based healing. Her work bridges past and present, rooted in the ancestral relationship between Native peoples and the cannabis plant. And yes, her name really is Mary Jane – destiny, amiright?
But Oatman’s journey to the forefront of cannabis advocacy isn’t your typical activist origin story. As she puts it, “I was born and raised in the culture – it’s always been a part of my life. But honestly, as a kid, I wasn’t always a fan.”
Into the Light
Growing up in a family of growers, including her dad and grandmother, Oatman’s childhood was anything but ordinary. “It was hard to have sleepovers or a ‘normal’ life when you’re surrounded by the plant,” she recalls. Her childhood resentment of her parents career choice would eventually subside, and by her teens, she was an active consumer. As a high school athlete, she kept her cannabis use under wraps, hiding it even while leaning into the cheeky irony of her name during her student council campaigns. “My slogan was ‘What time is it? Time to vote for Mary Jane,’ and we had clocks set to 4:20,” she laughs.
At conferences, we pack rooms with tribal leaders, and the elders share their stories . . . That’s the heart of what I do–giving them a mic and preserving this historic time for future generations.
Mary Jane Oatman
Later, her professional life added another layer of complexity. “As a federal land management conservation officer, I had to hide my cannabis use,” she explains. “The drug testing process is such a scary thing to face. It’s an insane violation just to be able to provide for your family.”
It wasn’t until 2015 that Oatman decided it was time to come out of the shadows and fight. Federal agents had just swarmed the Menominee Indian Tribe’s Wisconsin reservation and destroyed 30,000 industrial hemp plants. “That was a wake-up call,” she says. “It showed how tribes still have to fight for equality, even in the cannabis space.”
Building a Movement
Oatman’s first steps into cannabis advocacy came when she joined the Minority Cannabis Business Association (MCBA) as a board member. But even there, she noticed a gap. “It was a lot of ‘Tribes 101.’ People didn’t understand tribal markets or sovereignty,” she says.
That realization led her to create the Indigenous Cannabis Coalition (ICANNC), focusing on advocacy, education, and connecting tribal communities in the cannabis space. It’s not just a nonprofit; it’s a blueprint for unity and a literal map spotlighting every First Nations-owned cannabis and hemp operation in the U.S. From cultivation to testing facilities, this directory connects tribal businesses and empowers them to support one another. “It’s about figuring out who’s doing what, where they’re doing it, and bridging communities to share success stories – and the landmines to look out for,” she explains. “We’re breaking down silos to show tribes that we’re stronger together.” As an extension of that work, Oatman launched THC Magazine (Tribal Hemp and Cannabis), a quarterly publication dedicated to educating Native and non-Native audiences about cannabis’s potential as a tool for healing, economic growth, and environmental sustainability. The name alone deserves a standing ovation.
A Legacy of Healing
Oatman’s passion is deeply personal, shaped by a legacy that includes her grandmother’s incarceration for growing cannabis during the War on Drugs. This event left her family wrestling with stigma, shame, and fear – a story that echoes across many Native American households. But today, her grandmother is one of her biggest inspirations. “She’s a believer in the plant as medicine, and it’s been healing for her to stand tall and say, ‘I’d do it all over again.’”
Her grandmother’s ordeal became the foundation for Oatman’s mission to liberate plant medicine and restore tribal sovereignty. Her work has brought healing to tribal elders who were once resistant. “At conferences, we pack rooms with tribal leaders, and the elders share their stories. They want to be heard,” she says. “That’s the heart of what I do – giving them a mic and preserving this historic time for future generations.”
She points out that many tribal dispensaries prioritize elder care and education over profits. “Some have landing centers where elders can talk about drug interactions and what strains work for their ailments,” she says. “It’s about patient care, not just the sexy green rush.”
While the War on Drugs devastated communities across the U.S., it hit Indigenous communities particularly hard. From targeted policing to employment insecurities, the aftershocks are still felt today. Oatman’s work is a balm for these wounds. She’s advocating for ordinances that remove harsh penalties and create job opportunities, ensuring tribal members no longer have to live in fear.
Of course, the path isn’t without obstacles. Cannabis remains federally illegal, which puts tribes in a unique bind. Oatman’s homeland of Idaho is one of the last holdouts without medical or recreational cannabis, adding another layer of complexity. Yet, she’s undeterred. “It’s not if, but when,” she says confidently. She’s urging tribes to prepare now by building regulatory systems and crafting ordinances that honor their sovereignty.
As a staunch advocate for industrial hemp, Oatman sees it as a game changer for climate action. “Tribes used hemp for fishing nets and textiles; it’s even in the Nez Perce creation story,” she explains. “This isn’t just about making money; it’s about reconnecting with our roots. We need to do this in a way that does not create a capitalistic commodity on the backs of Mother Earth.”
Her vision is big – like, save-the-planet big. She points to the Lower Sioux Indian Community, which has been building hempcrete housing, as a shining example of industrial hemp fiber and biodegradable hemp plastics replacing the ocean-choking stuff we’re stuck with now.
Finding Joy in the Journey
Despite the challenges, Oatman’s work is fueled by joy and community. “I’ve had so much fun,” she says. “I’ve been on road trips to every tribally owned dispensary in Washington State, distributed magazines from New York to Hawaii, and connected with incredible people along the way.”
And the best part? Seeing her family join her on this journey. “I’ve had four generations—my grandma, mom, daughter, and me—road-tripping to a cannabis conference. That’s something I’ll treasure forever,” she says.
In 2022, she became executive director of the Indigenous Cannabis Industry Association (ICIA), a trade organization founded by Rob Perro. Through ICIA, she’s helping tribes build robust cannabis operations while keeping cultural values front and center. “We need to embrace the reality that we have such a very short life on this earth, and we should not live it within the confines of waiting for government permission to heal ourselves.”
Mary Jane Oatman is proof that cannabis isn’t just about profits. It’s about reclaiming culture, healing communities, and building a future rooted in respect for the earth and its original stewards. “I see tribes leading the way in cannabis R&D, clinical research, and federal appropriations for healthcare,” she says. “This is just the beginning.”
A Career in Advocacy

- Youngest member appointed by President Barack Obama to serve on the National Advisory Council on Indian Education
- The first Director of Indian Education for the state of Idaho
- Founding board member for the JUSTUS Foundation
- Former President of the Idaho ACLU
- Board of Directors for the Association of Cannabis Health Equity and Medicine (ACHEM)
