All About Change - Niambe McIntosh - Head of Peter Tosh Legacy & Brand on Cannabis Legalization and Justice System Reform

Episode Date: January 16, 2023

As we take time to reflect on the work of Martin Luther King, Jr, we would like to share an encore of this important episode that discusses inequalities in the American justice system and social justice movements that are responding to it. “What is it we need to do as a society to lift up our most vulnerable population?” asks Niambe McIntosh, daughter of Peter Tosh and fierce advocate for prison reform, cannabis legalization, and justice everywhere. Peter Tosh is the legendary Grammy Award-winning reggae musician and, along with Bob Marley, founding member of The Wailers. Known for the passionate political and social messaging in his songs, Tosh was tragically killed during a home invasion in 1987 when Niambe was only five-years-old. Today, Niambe is head of the Peter Tosh Legacy & Brand and founder of the Peter Tosh Foundation, where she carries on her father’s message and memory. In 2017, her brother Jawara was incarcerated for cannabis possession in New Jersey. After a brutal attack in prison led to Jawara’s death, Niambe threw herself into the world of prison reform. Listen to the latest episode of All About Change as Niambe discusses preserving the legacy and work of her father, her passion for prison reform, and the necessity of legalizing cannabis nationwide. Please find a transcription of this episode here.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Hey, it's Jay, and today, in honor of Martin Luther King Day, we are re-airing an episode with Naomi McIntosh. In what was probably the hardest part of the conversation for me, we talk about her brother, who was fatally injured while he was incarcerated, and how this tragedy plunged her into a world of criminal justice reform. We'll be back next week on Monday with a brand new episode. Hi, I'm Jay Rudiman And welcome to All About Change Stories of activism, courage, and hope This is all wrong

I say put mental health first because This generation of Americans has already had enough I stand before you not as an expert But as a concerned citizen. In each episode, we bring you in-depth and intimate conversations with inspiring individuals trying to change the world. And today on our show, Neombe McIntosh. People saying like, wow, you're from Dorchester?

You know, almost making it seem like I lived in a war zone. You know, it was so like, and you survived? Niombe McIntosh is the youngest child of Peter Tosh, the legendary reggae musician, who together with Bob Marley was a founding member of the Wailers. Along with his successful musical career, Tosh was known for the fierce political and social messaging in his songs. He was tragically killed during a home invasion in 1987 when Naomi was only five years old.

She grew up in Boston, Massachusetts with her mother, where she received a master's in education and taught in Boston's public school system for 10 years. He chose to take his path and educate people through music and uplift people through music, and I, you know, chose the classroom. As the executor of the Peter Tosh Estate, Nyambi leads various social initiatives. She's inspired by her father's outspoken views on equal rights, justice, and the legalization of cannabis. But recently, following another family tragedy,

which we'll get into later in our conversation, she's also become active in the field of prison reform. The front desk told us that we couldn't visit him. He's a ward of the state. He's not authorized to have visitation. You need to call the jail. Our interview with Nyambe is a special episode commemorating Juneteenth. I really hope you enjoy it.

is a special episode commemorating Juneteenth. I really hope you enjoy it. So, Naomi, nice to meet you and pleasure to have you as our guest. So, Peter Tosh was a legendary musician and unapologetic about his political and social views. Can you tell us a little bit about him? Oh, definitely. He was a founding member of the Wailers, Bob Marley, Peter Tosh, and Bunny Whaler. I've met many people that have said that out of the members of the Whalers, my father was one of the most well read and really made a point to kind of self educate himself about the things that were going on in the world and to vocalize, you know, an opinion about those things. And so out of the Wailers, I would say he was the most, had the

most political voice. And so songs like Get Up, Stand Up, you know, were birthed out of, you know, some of my father's ideas. He was also one that had a lot of the musical talent. So he taught Bob Marley how to play the guitar. the musical talent. So he taught Bob Marley how to play the guitar. He, my father knew how to play, I don't know, 21, 20 plus instruments over the course of his career. But when Chris Blackwell came in the head of Island Records to manage the Wailers, he then changed it to Bob Marley and the Wailers when originally they were just the Wailers, you know, three vocalists that equally contributed to the music and the sound. And so when he saw that he was being kind of pushed as a backup vocalist, he realized that wasn't really his place.

Well, the time came after 12 years was to see what was inside of me. And that's what I did, because I did not come on this earth to be a background vocal. He had to, you know, respectfully disagree, as he would say it, and transition on to his own career. He never felt like he was supposed to be a background vocalist. He really stepped into his more political voice writing the iconic song and album Legalize It, furthering his career with Equal Rights and Justice.

So throughout his career, he's always had a political voice, a voice for the people, and wanted to kind of uplift people through his music. Legalize it people through his music. Your dad was a devout Rastafarian, but the Rastafarian movement was not always accepted in Jamaican society. Can you talk about that and what your dad faced as a Rastafarian and being very outspoken in his beliefs? Yeah. Although many people left the church in the 1930s to form this kind of, to practice, you know, Rastafarian spirituality, they were still a minority in the country.

And so most of Jamaica is Christian. And so Black people choosing to not comb their hair anymore and to wear dreadlocks, and to not adopt or continue to practice Eurocentric ideals of how they dress. Many people, unfortunately, due to their own indoctrination, viewed that as something that was bad. And then when you look at the colonial rule, the Rastafarian movement was a direct opposition to everything that they were trying to enforce. And so Rastas were often targeted by the government. There's been times when he, police has come into his home over a spliff or a draw weed, as he would say,

and be pulled out of his house and embrutalized. He's been, you know, taken to jail. He's been almost beaten to death because of his stance on cannabis legalization. He was an outward advocate. He made a point to not only talk the talk, but walk the walk and embody what cannabis legalization should look like. You know, it was very much a part of his lifestyle. He used it throughout the day, you know, and it was something that he had no shame in.

The herb. Well, the herb is like you live in Babylon, that he had no shame in. created scientifically, spiritually for the use of man by the creator. See, then the devil came and say, it is you and I. And he invented cigarette so he can have the people on this death trip. And because of that, that stance, unfortunately, he was a target of police brutality. And his views made it difficult for record companies to want to fully promote him. You know, I would say not only was it his views, but also his complexion. Colorism is still and racism is still prevalent within our entertainment industry. And so he unfortunately did suffer economically,

but it wasn't because people didn't want to hear the truth. You know, it was more so the powers that be didn't want to promote it. Do you think that your dad really didn't live to see his ultimate success? I mean, winning a Grammy and, you know, becoming recognized by the Jamaican government for the cultural icon that he was? I believe that the spirit always lives, you know, past the flesh. And although he's not physically here with us to see the progress, I know that his spirit, you know, definitely lives on, is able to celebrate everything that his message and music continues to accomplish. You know, he was a man before his time, and he felt that way. You know, he felt that his music will live longer

and inspire, you know, generations to come in a way that he's not going to witness, but a way that he knows will happen. So how did your dad's legacy shape your own path as an educator and activist? I think that the educational spirit is something that I definitely inherited. You know, he didn't raise me. I was too young to be raised by him. But I've always loved children. I've always loved to help people. And so although prior to becoming an educator, I was an engineer for several years,

I've always felt a calling to kind of get into the educational system. And so it wasn't until after kind of taking over my dad's estate, being an educator for a long time, that I started to see the connection that we definitely chose the path of education, except he had the gift of a voice, you know, and I didn't get that gene, the singing gene. So he chose to take his path and educate people through music and uplift people through music. And I, you know, chose the classroom. So you were born in Jamaica, but you were raised in Boston. How did that come about? My mom is actually a Boston native, born and raised. And so she met my dad in Boston and fell in love. You know, he pursued her very hard. And she at first was like, you know,

you're a musician. And, you know, we all know the story of musicians, but they ended up having a connection and she moved to Jamaica and then had my brother and I and lived there for many years. So as a Bostonian, I mean, I'm well aware of the history of racism in this city. What was it like growing up as a young black woman, as a child in this city. What was it like growing up as a young black woman as a child in this city? You know, you go through things thinking that they're the norm. You know, I grew up in inner city Boston in the 90s. At the time, there was a lot of gun violence. The Boston Public Schools very poorly run and then just low expectations. And my mom always pushed academics first. So we were always looking for the best academic opportunity. But I was able to very much see as I got older, the stark contrast between, you know, what more affluent communities had access to when it came to

education and the quality of education and even just a peace of mind. You know, I became accustomed to just hearing noise outside. And it wasn't until I got older that I realized all of the stresses and the microaggressions that, you know, people within certain communities have to go through and experience and almost and actually normalize, unfortunately, and then have to deal with certain things that really aren't the norm. And as we get older, we start to realize that we have to, you know, shift. And that's why I went into education, seeing that there was a need, you know, within my community to see people that look like for young people to see me as someone

that looked like them, you know, to be able to guide them and have them understand that there is a path out and education is always that tool. What specific memories do you have of violence in your community when you were growing up as a child? I remember all of the gangs that were around my neighborhood. You know, I've seen shootouts, I've witnessed, you know, people being shot. And oddly enough, I became used to hearing gunshots in the 90s. It was something that I didn't realize wasn't a normal thing. I think that what allowed me to stay grounded was my mother made a point to keep my home, you know, inside our home, a safe community and a safe environment and peaceful. And so although, you know, I lived in the inner city, I've always felt comfortable

at home. I've always felt safe. And my mother would, we would say hello to a lot of the boys in the neighborhood and they would always treat us with respect. So I never felt like we were a target, you know, or like we were someone that people were after. And so it's kind of ironic that although I was in the heart of all of this violence, oddly enough, I never felt threatened because of kind of our outlook on life and really trying to dig deeper than the surface. You know, young lost boys often they can have this aggression, but it was never towards us. They've always treated us with respect, oddly enough. And so I think that when we look at the

problems within the community, it's not just this blanket, one size fits all, that makes up the humans that are going through these crises. There's always a root. And when you kind of can see the root problem, then you can treat people differently. And in return, get people to treat you with a level of respect as well. I'm sure I was affected, you know, and I'm but I know that I'm blessed to have had a mom that kept us with a positive outlook on on life and kept us grounded. And I'm grateful that we, you know, up until, unfortunately, my brother's story that we've, you know, never been a target of violence. Sounds like your mom was a real pillar in your life.

Definitely, definitely, definitely. She's a remarkable woman. I want to talk about your brother, Jawara. Can you tell us a little bit about him? I mean, he was the one sibling that that you grew up with. him? I mean, he was the one sibling that you grew up with. Yes. Jawara and I both kind of grew up in Boston and very likable, lovable guy and started to kind of dabble in music through just like freestyling, hip hop. And I would beatbox for him in our teen years. And it wasn't until his early 20s where a friend of my dad's actually just kind of said, Hey, you're going to do reggae. And kind of put him in the studio and put him with a band.

And I remember the first time I saw him perform, I had goosebumps because he had this. He had this natural gift to be able to not only command an audience, but he also sounded just like my dad. And I was able to see my dad through my brother. And he was this, you know, larger than life personality, commanded any space he was in to the point where as a little sister, you could definitely be annoyed by it sometimes. But as I got older, I started to respect his ability to always be himself. You know, I think that throughout life, we're kind of taught to adapt to our environment and conform almost, you know, and to kind of lose a little bit of ourselves so that we fit in. And Jawara was someone who did just the opposite. He said, I'm going to be myself no matter what space I'm in and did that without any apology. He was just this lovable individual, but also just very funny and charming.

He was extremely charming. He was extremely charming. So we come to claim the charm. Rise up! Rise up! Rise up African children, Jaja is calling. I saw some clips of him singing and he was talented. Talk about the fateful Father's Day weekend in 2013 and what happened to your brother. Yes. I had gotten a collect call from him, Father's Day weekend in 2013, that he had been arrested. And I honestly initially thought that it was something that would, you know, be put behind us. He was arrested in Bergen County in New Jersey while driving on the highway due to possession of cannabis.

And so I received the call. I was definitely annoyed that he had gotten himself in trouble. You know, I was kind of frustrated, like, why did you get yourself in trouble? That's, you know, so reckless of you. And I remember having that kind of initial thought. And then if it wasn't Massachusetts, he would have actually had a hearing, you know, the next, the Monday of, you know, that that followed. But in New Jersey, where they really have this kind of prison economy. He didn't have a hearing for another three months. And that's when my family drove down to New Jersey to kind of support him and be there

for him. And that's when we heard the prosecution offer a 20-year plea. Jawara sat there, you know, in an orange jumpsuit. I've never seen him. We've never been involved in the criminal justice system. And so just the whole energy of the space just had us feeling extremely just abandoned. Fortunately, he was able to make bail three months later in December of that year, but he had gone back and forth to New Jersey for pretrial motions up until 2017. They were constantly saying that, you know, this is the best deal that you can get. If you don't take the plea, you know, you'll definitely face the full 20 years or full 15 years. And so they would lower it down to 10 and then, you know, really try to convince him to take it and lower it down to five.

We were torn as a family, you know, it took me a while to recognize that it was our human right to consume cannabis. And it was through that experience where I made that spiritual growth to really want to fight for what we believed in. But we also knew the legacy of Bergen County. And so we decided that it would be a good idea to take the plea. And so in 2016, my brother decided to take the plea and it was in 2017 in January, where he turned himself in to Bergen County Jail. I think the plea had gotten down to around like five years and he was told that he probably only served maybe a year because he did, you know, sometimes served. And he was in there for about a month before I get a call from my mother. She was extremely frantic and she's crying and she's like, Niamh, there's a surgeon on the phone. He's saying something about Gamal,

that's what we called him. It was his middle name. And so the surgeon says to me, hi, Niamh, I'm calling from Hackensack Medical Center and we need to perform a life-saving medical procedure on your brother. He's been attacked, and he's suffered a traumatic brain injury. He has a lot of bleeding on his brain. Are we able to perform this surgery? And so we had no idea what happened. You know, the jail didn't really call us, but we did authorize the surgery. And we immediately went to New Jersey and Hackensack Medical Hospital to, to be by his side. And we got there.

The front desk told us that we couldn't visit him. He's a ward of the state. He's not authorized to have visitation. You need to call the jail. And the, when we called the jail, they made a point to say, like, we don't normally allow visitors, you know, even though he was in their custody, and they failed to protect him, we didn't have the right. He didn't have the right as a human to have his family by his side to support him while he was fighting for his life. And so we all walked into the ICU. And when we stepped into the room, that's when we saw that he had half of his locks kind of shaved off. He was connected to oxygen with tubes down his throat. His face was swollen and a neck brace on. And he had a handcuff around his ankle. And he was surrounded by

correctional officers. And that was the moment that I knew that my life was forever changed, that I had a different purpose. He actually remained in the ICU for three months before we were able to get him home to Boston. He was at Brigham and Women's Hospital for over 500 days before we were able to get him home. My mom and I cared for him for roughly two years before he succumbed to his injuries and passed away in July of 2020. I'm so sorry for your loss. And I can tell from our discussion how this still is so difficult for you and your family. Can you talk about what happened to Jawara and what the legalization movement and prison reform and how you see all these things and what actions have you and the foundation taken? I think it's very important that people recognize that cannabis legalization is so much more about social justice. It's so much more about equity. The war on drugs has truly

decimated communities and broken families. My brother has four children. This is a pain and a trauma that will live with all of us forever. And so when we look at legalization, cannabis prohibition, particularly with its dark history, so many people have been criminalized over cannabis. And often the police department has justified the hyper violence and brutality against people of color through cannabis by saying that they, oh, I smelled cannabis or this person had cannabis on them. When Trayvon Martin was shot and killed, the police leaked high school video footage of him getting in trouble over having cannabis on him. It's been used to really dehumanize people so that they can justify Black deaths. And the power of legalization will allow for that to no longer be used to target people of color in this country.

And so there has to be a shift where we recognize that not only has cannabis, you know, never harmed anyone, not only is it a plant that has the power to really put the body in full balance, but it's also the legalization also can help to repair the harms that have been impacted on particularly people of color and Black families and black communities. And now, you know, we've seen it transfer over into more of a white community. And now we see it treated as a health epidemic, you know, unfortunately, but when it was, you know, people of color that were going through these issues, they were criminalized. And so I've seen, you know, drug addicts and dealers and all of these people kind of go through this system that really just broke apart communities. And no one ever came in

to really look at how do we change things? How do we give people access to a better education? How do we give people access to jobs so that they don't have to choose crime to feed their families? How do we give people access to jobs so that they don't have to choose crime to feed their families? How do we definitely wish that we had that mindset back when it was, you know, predominantly people of color and black faces and families that were affected by it. Yeah. You talked about that you were a teacher, but initially you studied engineering. What made you decide to make that transition to become a teacher, but initially you studied engineering. What made you decide to make that transition to become a teacher in the Boston Public Schools? Well, growing up, I've always loved children. I would always just find myself hanging with younger family members

and cousins that had children and always wanting to just be around young people. But I've always had a gift to like want to do things with my hands and be the person like opening up a VCR to try to see how it works or try to fix things. And in my mind, as a young person, I was like, okay, if I like, you know, fixing things, I should be an engineer. And so I pursued that path, not really having any guidance on what engineering was, but just kind of hearing about it as a concept that you do, and knew that I wanted to at least be able to provide for my family and engineers would be a career that they could do that. But as I got into the field that I was in, it was engineering design. And being a Black woman, I've worked at actually Gloucester Engineering. And I was the youngest, I think it was engineering design. And being a Black woman, I've worked at actually Gloucester Engineering.

And I was the youngest, I think it was like 21, you know, fresh out of college, youngest person working there. Everyone else was like 50 plus, but I was also the only female engineer. And I was the only Black woman engineer. I remember, you know, people saying like, wow, you're from Dorchester? You know, almost making it seem like I lived in a war zone, you know, it was so like, and you survived. And just never really feeling like I fit in, you know, and it was actually one day where I just Googled kind of teaching in Boston and found a program called Boston Teacher Residency. And the person running the program was my former high school math teacher. And so I pretty much took a leap and applied to the program. And it's a program pretty much where it's often marketed towards career changers that want to get into education. And so it's an accelerated master's program. And so I transitioned and got my master's in education. And although I loved young,

young children and wanted to teach elementary, the need was in high school math and special education. And so I said, all right, I have the tools to serve the population with the highest need. And although I love kindergartners and little kids, I'll jump into where the need is needed the most and decided to do high school math and special education. And did you enjoy it? I did. I did. I love young people. I've always say that you got to be a little bit crazy, you know, to teach and kind of demand the respect and but also to be able to be humble, like to be able to apologize, to be able to know that nothing is personal when dealing with young people that are going through what they're going through and bringing their kind of baggage to school every day. Nothing's personal.

And so when they know that they are respected unconditionally, they often are able to give you that respect as well. When you taught, what was one of your memories of a success or a failure or something that you learned from while you were teaching? I can give you actually a quick story. I had a student that came into my classroom, just extremely angry. This is like first thing in the morning, and he's complaining about just everything that's going on in the day. He's like, you know what, I'm just tired of being here, Ms. Mack. The school's just aggravating me, and I'm just frustrated. And so I gave this child, it was like a 14 year old young boy, a banana,

you know, and so he eats the banana, and I watch his whole demeanor drastically change within seconds, just like that. He's in this uplift, bubbly spirit. He was hungry. He had no idea that he was hungry. But that behavior could have turned into a, you know, something that teachers end up, you know, chastising and getting him in trouble and eventually probably getting expelled because he didn't know how to deal with his emotions as a 14 year old not realizing that he was hungry. But because I was able to say have a conversation with him, he then was able to start every day realizing that he needs to eat to be able to, you know, function throughout the rest of the day, as many of us do. And those are the things, you know, the lessons that I think are

just missing from education within the Boston public school system. And on the other hand, when you had a student who said, listen, I've decided that, you know, I'm giving up on education, I'm going, you know, into the gangs. Did you ever take that personally? Did that ever like eat at you and say, wow, you know, I wish I could have turned him around? You know, I can think of a few that we weren't able to reach. You know, I find that there have been a few that were exceptionally intelligent, young Black African American boys, but they were very much involved in gangs. But they would come to school in a ninth grade reading at an 11th grade level, able to really tackle the work effortlessly. But, you know, they found their community, they found their

nurturing within that gang environment. So no matter what we did to try to give them every single opportunity, we weren't able to get them to kind of stay in school and graduate. A lot of them ended up kind of dropping out and falling into that street lifestyle, you know, and we're articulate enough to say, you know, this is the choice that I'm making, and I choose to deal with the consequences when I get older. You know, I am enjoying this lifestyle, but it's something that I, you know, I reflect on, like, what type of academic environment do we need that can really help truly serve, you know, those that we lose, you know, that don't make it through our Boston public school system? What is it that we need to do as a society to lift up our most

vulnerable population? Well, you have a very holistic view of your community and where you grew up and where you served. So I'm going to ask you a big question, but what would you like to see in terms of reforms for America's justice system? Oh, that is a big question. I think that a lot of these prisons and jails need to be completely reformed. Most people that are in jail are dealing with a medical health issue. And that's a psychological health issue, whether it be, you know, people that are dealing with gun violence, or people that are dealing with addiction. And then the second thing is poverty. You know, if we can address this from an equal rights and justice standpoint, we need to serve, basically serve our lowest and most vulnerable population, and then you will see less crime. Every study has shown that crime has a direct correlation with poverty. And so you see less crime when you give people opportunities to a better education, when you give people opportunities to jobs where they can afford to live, you know. And so that's another area that

I would definitely be a proponent of. And then ultimately, the full legalization of cannabis and not moving towards legalizing, but then trying to have so many stipulations and regulations around quantities or THC caps or still targeting the unregulated markets so that the cannabis businesses can thrive, but really looking at a way to bring the legacy market, as I would like to call it, people have called it the unregulated market, but really the people that have been selling cannabis and making it possible for cannabis, the industry to thrive and be successful, really looking at a way for them to laterally enter into the market. And it shouldn't be that people that have been the founders of the movement and created the industry no longer have a place in the legal and recreational industry.

So powerful. Finally, Niambi, what's your favorite Peter Tarsh song? My favorite Peter Tarsh song is, in Jamaica, this word is considered an actual bad word, but it's called O Bamba Clot. But it's called Oh Bumba Clot. One of the reasons this song is one of my favorites is because it starts off by saying, I came upon this land to guide and teach my fellow man. But one thing I can't overstand, which is a play on words, is why man doesn't love his brother man.

That's when he just says, oh, bum, it's like saying, you know, damn, or, you know, a level of frustration that, you know, you come to be an educator, but at the same and help people. But at the same time, people just have this lack of desire to to join in on that good fight and to love one another. Like and so at times we can all get frustrated. And although society has called words like that, curse words or bad words, I like to call them power words. You know, it's words that sometimes we just have to use. You know, there's no other word that can really have the impact of some of those power words. So it's one of my favorite because it's something that resonates with me as an educator and as an activist. You know, I am a lover of all humans and want to see us all, you know, get to a better place together.

And it gets frustrating at times when there's a constant push against good. Oh, Rastla Oh, Obama Well, Nambi, I really want to thank you for joining us on All Inclusive. You were such a powerful guest, and I learned so much. I wish you and the Peter Tosh Foundation to go from strength to strength. Thank you so much for being with us today. Thank you. Thank you so much. I wish you and the Peter Tosh Foundation to go from strength to strength. Thank you so much for being with us today. Thank you. Thank you so much for having me. I would say that if anyone wants to continue to learn more, just, you know, check out PeterTosh.com or at Peter Tosh on any social media platform. So thank you so much for having me. Definitely. Thank you so much.

All About Change is a production of the Ruderman Family Foundation. This show is produced by Yochai Meytal, Jackie Schwartz, Matt Littman, and me, John Zulu. If you enjoyed this episode, be sure to come back in two weeks for another inspiring story. In the meantime, we'll still have all our previous content live on our feed and linked on our new website, allaboutchangepodcast.com. Lastly, if you enjoy our show, please help us spread the word. Tell a friend or family member or consider writing a review on your favorite podcasting app. You'd be surprised how much that helps. It really makes a difference.

I'm Jay Rudiman, and I'll catch you next time on All About Change. Outro Music