The History and Meaning of 420: Cannabis, Culture, and the Code That Endured

There is no federal holiday for cannabis. No official proclamation. No sanctioned moment when we share a meal with family and friends to reflect on its past or chart its future. No gifts to exchange (well, maybe not), and sadly, no day off. And yet every April, like clockwork, millions across the country participate in something that comes remarkably close.

April 20, or “4/20,” depending on your cultural fluency, has become the de facto day for Americans to gather around a shared ritual: acknowledging cannabis. Its use, yes, but also its legacy. Its shifting legal status. Its complicated place in American identity.

It’s a holiday born not of law but of language. A secret code turned cultural shorthand, eventually turning up in everything from statehouse speeches to snack-food marketing. But to understand what makes 4/20 enduringly powerful, you have to look past the haze of cliché smoke and into the strange, winding journey of a plant - and a policy - that’s never quite belonged where it was placed.

How 420 Started: The Code That Went Global

The original 420 flyer that was handed out in the parking lot at the Oakland Coliseum in December 1990.

Despite what you might’ve heard, “420” was never a police code. Nor was it a nod to Bob Dylan, a chemical formula, or a sly biblical citation. All along, it was just a time on the clock - 4:20PM - when a small group of teenagers in Marin County, California, would meet after school to search for a rumored abandoned cannabis crop in the woods. The search was mostly a bust, but the shorthand stuck. They began using “420” as code for weed. It was that simple, and during a much simpler time…1971.

The term would’ve likely vanished into adolescent memory if not for one twist: one of those teenagers had an older brother with connections to the Grateful Dead. The band’s vast network of fans - a rolling subculture of its own still going strong - adopted the term and carried it across state lines. By the 1990s, a flyer circulated among Deadheads inviting people to light up on April 20 at 4:20PM. A High Times editor picked it up and printed it. From then on, the number - and the date - took hold.

It was always part inside joke, part protest - but also a quiet act of resistance in a system that punished cannabis use unevenly and often unjustly. At a time when possession could mean arrest, especially for Black and Brown communities, 4/20 became a day to quietly, then loudly, say: “We’re here. And we’re not going anywhere.”

The Myths Behind 420

Like any good piece of cannabis folklore, 420 comes with no shortage of creative, confident, and entirely incorrect origin stories.

Let’s start with the most common: “It’s a police code for marijuana in progress.” A classic - and completely false. While “420” may exist in some penal codes (in California, for example, it references obstructing entry on public land), no major law enforcement agency ever used it to refer to cannabis-related activity.

Then there’s the claim that “420 is the number of chemical compounds in cannabis.” Another elegant myth. Also untrue. The actual number is in flux, but it’s not 420.

Some swear it's Hitler’s birthday (which, uncomfortably, it is - April 20, 1889), implying a dark historical connection. But this is pure coincidence, not cause. It is also Napoleon’s, but I don’t see him getting any credit for legalization. Add George Takei from Star Trek, too.

Others point to Bob Dylan lyrics - “Rainy Day Women #12 & 35,” because 12 × 35 equals 420. Clever, sure. But entirely speculative.

In truth, the story is simpler: five high schoolers looking for a hidden grow site. The phrase caught on because it felt secretive and irreverent. It became symbolic because people gave it meaning - not the other way around. To me, that always felt more authentic anyway, given the organic, often underground growth of cannabis culture. It would be a shame to see 4/20 have any planned or forced origin. I already roll my eyes when I see how commercialized the day has become lately.

420 as Protest and Civil Disobedience

What’s remarkable about 4/20 is how seamlessly it blended subversion with celebration. In the 1990s and early 2000s, gatherings on April 20 were rarely permitted. People smoked together anyway. On college campuses, in parks, and brazenly, even on courthouse lawns. At the University of Colorado Boulder, the crowd once swelled to 10,000 people partaking in unison. San Francisco’s Hippie Hill, unsurprisingly and perhaps appropriately, became a mecca for the moment.

These were not just mass smoke-outs. They were visible acts of protest against a drug policy landscape that had long punished cannabis users with disproportionate force. For those who had been arrested, incarcerated, or shut out of economic opportunity because of a single plant, 4/20 became a kind of civil disobedience. A day when the rules were rejected en masse, if only for an hour.

It’s worth noting that this wasn’t a fringe activity. By the time Colorado and Washington legalized adult-use cannabis in 2012, 4/20 had already outgrown its origins.

From Counterculture to Corporate

Legalization changed everything. In some ways, it was the culmination of what 4/20 had always argued for: a world where cannabis was treated like any other vice or virtue, depending on who was holding it. But it also raised a different question: What happens when your protest wins?

In the years since, 4/20 has evolved into something closer to a hybrid of Black Friday and Earth Day. Part retail extravaganza, part public-awareness campaign. Cannabis brands now build their entire promotional calendars around the day. Dispensaries report record-breaking sales. Regulators are quick to highlight the success of all the tax revenue they’ve generated around the extravaganza. National chains from Jack in the Box to Ben & Jerry’s lean into the moment, targeting “munchies” with tongue-in-cheek winks and discount codes.

Purists tend to lament this shift. And it’s true: the day has become less about protest and more about promotion. But there’s also something deeply American about this. Most of our holidays are a blend of sacred and profane. We celebrate independence with fireworks and grill kits. We honor labor with sales on appliances. Why should 4/20 be any different?

Despite the commercialization, 4/20 remains tethered to a deeper truth: cannabis may be mainstream in culture, but it is not yet equal in law.

Legal Weed, Unequal Justice

Despite the commercialization, 4/20 remains tethered to a deeper truth: cannabis may be mainstream in culture, but it is not yet equal in law.

As of 2025, cannabis remains federally illegal, classified as a Schedule I substance - legally indistinguishable from heroin. Sadly, you read that right. Still. Treated. Like. Heroin.

Dozens of states have legalized it for medical or adult use, and yet tens of thousands of Americans - disproportionately Black and Latino - still carry criminal records for something now sold in sleek boutiques. Many are still behind bars. Too many. Many more are shut out of the industry they helped build through their own personal risk and sacrifice.

Organizations like the Last Prisoner Project, Marijuana Policy Project, and NORML use 4/20 not just for celebration, but for calls to action. And they’re joined by many others doing equally vital work across equity, access, and policy reform, often at the local level and far from the spotlight. Expungement, equity, and federal reform are often at the center of their messaging. This should remind us that while cannabis may be legal in parts, justice is far from complete.

Other Cannabis Holidays?

And while 4/20 reigns supreme, it’s not the only date with cannabis credentials. In recent years, some enthusiasts have embraced July 10 - or “7/10” - as a second cannabis holiday, particularly among fans of concentrates like oils and waxes. (Turn “710” upside down, and you get “OIL.”) It’s a newer, more niche celebration, less tied to protest and more to the evolution of the market, but it’s growing, especially as dab culture expands.

There are also whispers of other days: June 18 (marking Colorado’s legalization bill), October 17 (Canada’s legalization anniversary), even August 8 as a national expungement awareness day. But none have achieved the universal shorthand or cultural saturation of 4/20. That date, once a code passed between high school kids, remains cannabis’s most resonant rallying point. Not because it was declared official, but because the culture made it so.

And that culture - the one that built 4/20 long before legalization and venture capital showed up - deserves more than a passing nod. It shaped policy before policy paid attention. It created community in the margins. Today’s legal industry stands on the shoulders of that defiance.

Why 4/20 Still Matters

At its best, 4/20 acts less like a holiday and more like a mirror. It reflects where we are in the messy, unfinished process of integrating cannabis into American life. Not just as a product, but as a cultural artifact. One that carries decades of criminalization, activism, innovation, and healing.

You can buy a 4/20 deal on edibles before you can clear your name in court. You can celebrate the plant without ever learning the names of the people it punished.

Still, there’s an uneasy truth beneath the confetti: the same cultural moment that once meant risk and rebellion is now a marketing event. You can buy a 4/20 deal on edibles before you can clear your name in court. You can celebrate the plant without ever learning the names of the people it punished. That tension deserves our attention. Not because commercialization is inherently bad, but because forgetting the history is.

The point isn’t to shame the party. It’s to remember who threw it when it wasn’t safe to do so.

You don’t need to consume cannabis to understand this. You only need to look at how the country treats the people who do. Or the businesses who sell it. Or the communities who bore the brunt of prohibition.

So if you find yourself rolling your eyes this April at another clever ad or Instagram post festooned with green smoke and leaf emojis, remember this: 4/20 is not about glorifying cannabis. It’s about understanding its place in our story - and making sure that story doesn’t get flattened into a sale.

And like most things in America, that story is still being written.


Shawn Collins

Shawn Collins is one of the country’s foremost experts in cannabis policy. He is sought after to opine and consult on not just policy creation and development, but program implementation as well. He is widely recognized for his creative mind as well as his thoughtful and successful leadership of both startup and bureaucratic organizations. In addition to cannabis, he has a well-documented expertise in health care and complex financial matters as well.

Shawn was unanimously appointed as the inaugural Executive Director of the Massachusetts Cannabis Control Commission in 2017. In that role, he helped establish Massachusetts as a model for the implementation of safe, effective, and equitable cannabis policy, while simultaneously building out and overseeing the operations of the East Coast’s first adult-use marijuana regulatory agency.

Under Shawn’s leadership, Massachusetts’ adult-use Marijuana Retailers successfully opened in 2018 with a fully regulated supply chain unparalleled by their peers, complete with quality control testing and seed-to-sale tracking. Since then, the legal marketplace has grown at a rapid pace and generated more than $5 billion in revenue across more than 300 retail stores, including $1.56 billion in 2023 alone. He also oversaw the successful migration and integration of the Medical Use of Marijuana Program from the stewardship of the Department of Public Health to the Cannabis Control Commission in 2018. The program has since more than doubled in size and continues to support nearly 100,000 patients due to thoughtful programmatic and regulatory enhancements.

Shawn is an original founder of the Cannabis Regulators Association and also helped formalize networks that provide policymakers with unbiased information from the front lines of cannabis legalization, even as federal prohibition persists. At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, Collins was recognized by Boston Magazine as one of Boston’s 100 most influential people for his work to shape the emerging cannabis industry in Massachusetts.

Before joining the Commission, Shawn served as Assistant Treasurer and Director of Policy and Legislative Affairs to Treasurer Deborah B. Goldberg and Chief of Staff and General Counsel to former Sen. Richard T. Moore (D-Uxbridge). He currently lives in Webster, Massachusetts with his growing family. Shawn is a graduate of Suffolk University and Suffolk University Law School, and is admitted to practice law in Massachusetts.

Shawn has since founded THC Group in order to leverage his experience on behalf of clients, and to do so with a personalized approach.

https://homegrown-group.com
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