Birds of a Feather: Where Do License Holders Go for Resources?

Part evolutionary marvel, part cultural phenomenon, built to survive in an environment that doesn’t care if you make it or not. They rarely hunt in packs, except to take down larger prey—when that fails, they’re opportunistic, eating whatever’s left; and when they can’t run or fight, they resort to deception.

Im talking about Roadrunners, but a few years into New Mexico’s recreational market, business owners are showing similar traits.

Strange Animalia

It’s still hot outside. Prices are low, margins are thin, and every business hour is priceless. It takes a lot to pull a license holder away from their nest. And no two are the same—each one pieced together from bits and pieces found scattered across the land. An amalgamation of systems, tools, and habits, all stitched together with instinct and caffeine.

That’s the first observation. Getting license holders into the same room is like wrangling kittens. Even when you manage it, they’re all different shapes, sizes, and patterns—each one darting in a different direction. Their attention spans are measured in seconds, not hours. So getting them to show up—isn’t easy.

Watering Hole

So—where do license holders actually go when they want information?

Up until a few months ago, one place was the New Mexico Chamber of Ca**abis. But that door’s shut now, and with it, the wheel of information they kept turning. In their absence, two groups have stepped in to fill the void.

But the real question isn’t who replaced them—it’s what do they bring to the table? And what happens when those resources run dry?

Crows Nest

We reached out to three key voices following the closure of the New Mexico Chamber of Ca**abis: Ben Lewinger, former Executive Director of the Chamber; Matt Kennecott, head of the newly formed New Mexico Ca**abis Association (NMCA); and Nicole Fuchs, of the Southwest Ca**abis Trade Association (SWCTA).

Together, their statements reflect both respect for the Chamber’s work and cautious optimism about the future.

The SWCTA expressed deep appreciation for the Chamber’s role in building dialogue, education, and collaboration across the state—especially in including businesses outside Northern New Mexico. The organization credited Lewinger and the Chamber for helping operators, policymakers, and community members navigate the complex early years of legalization. While acknowledging its own recent quiet period, the SWCTA said the Chamber’s closure signals a moment of reflection for the broader business community: a time to reassess what kind of organizations best serve the industry’s long-term health.

The NMCA emphasized inclusion and accessibility as cornerstones of its mission. “The most effective advocacy comes when there are many voices fighting for the same goals,” the group stated. Their founding board reflects the full range of license types across the state, supported by a policy committee to balance perspectives. Membership is intentionally affordable, and access to leadership remains open and transparent. The NMCA framed itself not as a gatekeeper but as a working body dedicated to advocacy and keeping operators informed — a deliberate shift from exclusivity to collaboration.

Ben Lewinger looked back on the Chamber’s tenure as a period of essential groundwork. He highlighted the Chamber’s success in connecting operators with lawmakers, shaping policy, and facilitating difficult but necessary negotiations as the state transitioned to adult use. “Good policy takes time,” he said. “It’s a negotiation of ideas, desires, and fears.” Though the Chamber’s chapter has closed, Lewinger remains optimistic, calling for thoughtful and reasonable leaders to emerge — people capable of uniting operators around long-term success rather than short-term survival.

Mocking Birds

Ben Lewinger’s comment about good policy taking time resonates across the country. When we looked at other states’ association websites, the range was wild. Some were dense with information like New Yorks OCM website, others barely scratched the surface. A few offered access to data, but almost none had a clear, standardized way to bring new operators into the public fold.

There’s no onboarding system, no set of instructions, no SOP that says, here’s how you run a compliant, efficient cannabis business. In most states—especially in New Mexico—you get your license, hang it on the wall, and that’s it. The rest is on you to figure it out.

That’s the first wall any association hits: again, there’s no baseline language. No shared nomenclatures. No naming convention that ties the industry together. It’s chaos dressed as commerce. And that’s the core problem.

Drought Season

At nearly every meeting industry owners and advocates attend, the chorus is the same. License holders stand up and voice the same worries: high license counts, high testing flower, and rising taxes. There is also that old school distrust for law enforcement or government officials.

And while the discussions circle around legal advocacy and legislative battles, something crucial is missing. Not one person talked about how to lower cost, lower waste, or limit the amount of time spent away from families.

Maybe that’s not what associations are built for. Maybe their job is to fight policy, not teach operators how to survive it. Or maybe they just haven’t figured out how to reach everyone yet—how to cut through the noise and speak a language that connects hundreds of different systems, schedules, and struggles.

Because it’s not that people don’t care. It’s that everyone’s drowning in their own version of the same storm.

Scarecrow

I have a personal bias; I’ll admit it—I’ve never been one for clubs or groups. I learned the more you try to fit in with the world, the more you lose yourself. I am also living proof that you don’t need a crowd to make a difference. Just a few BAMF’s.

But maybe im part of the problem—I’ve spent so long bracing for disappointment that I don’t trust anyone, let alone a group, to have my best interests in mind.

Vision’s a good thing, for license holders, being part of an association is a good thing. But those benefits have to go beyond a monthly email or newsletter. For everyone else, I’m not saying paying for a membership is not worth it—but I haven’t paid for a UFC fight in years. Haven’t missed one yet.