But enough with cliches; let's get to the point—as an anarchist anti-authoritarian father trying to bridge that gap between theory and practice, trying to connect my politics to the practice of living my daily life, I've never met this kinda challenge before. And it feels like I am failing. I mean being vegan in New Mexico with my entire Chicano family holding out a plate full of carne asada saying "You don't eat what?" was easier. Struggling with the reality of non-monogamy has been easier, struggling to navigate being a teacher within the cold walls of the classroom was a piece of vegan chocolate cake compared to this. My son. Beautiful. On the verge of manhood. So much energy, so much potential.

Stoned. No, not just stoned. Fucking stoned.

Not doing anything: no school work, no responsibilities around the dog, not caring about skating anymore, just wanting to be flossin' a new white tee, khaki Dickies, wantin' clean white Nikes, talkin' about gettin' a grill with ice on it. But that's not the worst thing.

Lying about it. That was the clincher. I needed serious help. He seemed more comfortable making up extravagant explanations for me than talking to me about his choices, his decisions, his willingness to take the consequences if need be. Instead I got, "No really, I just took this bud from a friend cuz I didn't want him to smoke cuz, you know, drugs are bad." Followed by his sad little smile. Help me!

I was talking through this stuff with a good friend of mine and he chided me asking, "Really what do you expect, him to be all 'yo pops, I'm fixin' to roll a fat one with me and my boys, you want in?'?" Now sarcasm aside, he had a point. I pride myself on fostering an environment in which my son and my daughters would be active participants in creating their surroundings, and this worked when every option they had was something I was comfortable with for the most part. "You wanna wear a tank top when it's raining? Well, try it and see," or "You wanna not eat when we're having dinner, then don't expect me to do it all again when you're hungry in a couple hours."

But there was no deception, no dishonesty in any of these situations. Until now.

"Hey dad, I need to stop by my girlfriend's house to pick up a calculator." I want him to do well, so I must help him, I feel. However begrudgingly, I get all the other kids in my car, which I need to jumpstart to get going, drive there, wait an excruciating ten minutes and then have him come in the car followed by an overpowering smell of rosehip hand soap…hmmm. A deep breath closer and sho nuff—weed. I see that this was all a ploy to get some grapes as the slang goes in Berkeley High. I ask him if he has pot on him. No. He looks dumbfounded like why on earth would I think such a thing. I ask him to empty his pockets—out comes some of the nastiest, weak ass shank I'd ever seen. I almost asked him how much he paid for this because he got robbed. Then I hear his excuse, "I was wrestling with friends in the field, so it must be grass."

Am I that much of a fool, I wonder? Is this what I get for doing what I did to my mom? I just want to ridicule him, chide him for thinking me so gullible. You know, parenting by shame. And then it hits me. This is where politics in action collide with theory, this is the battleground where decisions made now can either reflect the parenting most of us are familiar with: parenting based on hypocrisy, blanket authoritarianism, on fucking guilt, or my choices can reflect…and that's where I'm stuck. Or what? How else to handle this, other than those rigid patriarchal static options—yelling, screaming, shaming, threatening? Or worse yet, the banal liberal crap that I hear some people (usually non-parents) rattle off about how they'll let them smoke or even smoke with them. So do I let my son smoke pot any ol' time? Do I say, "No, drugs are bad," like the good ol' South Park counselor? I know they're not. I don't smoke pot but have and will certainly do it again. Do I say, "You can do it in your room only," and then have to deal with a stoned son at dinnertime? Nothing sounds good, nothing feels right. Where is my little four-year old who wants pirate parties and the only thing smoking will be the tip of his little pirate pistol?

But we change. Kids grow up. They make their own decisions and must face the consequences of those decisions on their own. I tell him in the car, "I will talk to you about this later tonight when I'm not so upset." In the meantime, I remind myself that I don't have all the answers. That this is so much more complex then just him smoking pot or lying or trust. I also remind myself that my responsibility is first and foremost to let him know I love him unconditionally. I don't want my anger or my disappointment to pervade my other interactions with him. After being flat out lied to like a fool, I still must make him dinner, sit and eat with him and my daughters in a respectful and supportive environment. This sounds obvious or simple, but it is probably the most difficult thing I have to do. To keep these things separate: my anger at one thing and my behavior to him in other areas. To not ridicule him when he comes into the kitchen announcing, "Man, am I hungry," by saying, "Well, that's what you get when you're a fucking pot head," or something like "It's called the munchies, stoner…"

So what are my responsibilities? Where do mine end and his begin? When we do finally talk, I decide first to just ask some questions and then shut the fuck up. I want to just listen, not blame, guilt, threaten, ignore, or dismiss him, his feelings, or his actions. I ask: "Do you like it? How's it make you feel? Do you think it affects you negatively in any way? Do you know what might happen if you get caught with it on BART, in school, buying or selling? Does he want to know my experiences with it?" We talk like this a few times over the next couple of days.

I still don't know what to do and feel lost, so I finally try to figure out what I feel I need as a parent, what I feel my responsibilities are, and just what my concerns or fears are. I tell him I don't want him doing it, and I don't think it is helping him succeed in the choices he's made for himself at this point. I tell him of my fear about how this society is ready to pounce on young men, criminalize them and their actions, and that he's already been caught for graffiti and shoplifting (Did pot cause this? I laugh to myself) and soon he will be out of options. I reiterate that he needs to make his own decisions, and he needs to deal with the consequences. I kinda wanna use my line I used when I saw him looking at pornography, "If you old enough to watch it, you old enough to talk about it." Openly and honestly. So I need him to be honest with me, to not deceive me. If I ask him, he should be truthful. Part of the consequences of his actions is owning them, regardless of people's reactions, even his father's. I tell him that being honest doesn't mean he has no privacy. He is his own person and knows what is expected of him. If he can balance doing what he needs to do with the other choices he wants to make, great. If he can't, then we need to rework our system; we need to question both what I expect and his choices. If we can be honest with each other now, we can learn to understand, support, disagree with each other while still maintaining our autonomy and our connection.

However, none of that will make walking into my son's room with him sittin' on the bed stoned out of his mind with Mickey D wrapper's about the floor any fucking easier.