Indigenous Leaders Say Colorado’s Psychedelic Policy Excluded Them

Earlier this year, a state-appointed advisory group of Indigenous and tribal members released a report urging Colorado to pause the rollout of its psilocybin therapy program and delay similar initiatives for other naturally occurring psychedelics once they become eligible for legalization in 2026.

Colorado first made history in 2022, when voters passed Proposition 122, the Natural Medicine Health Act (NMHA). The measure decriminalized the personal cultivation, use, and sharing of psilocybin mushrooms, DMT, ibogaine, and mescaline (excluding peyote), and opened the door for licensed, guided psilocybin sessions. The remaining substances are under review by the Department of Regulatory Agencies (DORA), which will determine whether they, too, should be permitted in supervised settings.

Lawmakers acknowledged both the promise and peril of psychedelic reform, noting potential benefits for mental health and spiritual growth while warning of possible cultural harm. “Considerable harm may occur to the federally recognized American tribes and Indigenous people, communities, cultures, and religions,” the legislature’s declaration read.

In 2023, the Colorado Legislature expanded oversight through Senate Bill 23-290, establishing new regulatory bodies, including the Federally Recognized American Tribes and Indigenous Community Working Group. Tasked with assessing how legalization might affect Indigenous communities, the group developed recommendations for DORA and the state’s Natural Medicine Board.

Its mandate focused on four key areas: preventing the misappropriation and exploitation of Indigenous cultures; addressing the risks of over-commercialization; examining conservation concerns and potential impacts on threatened plant species, such as peyote; and building trust between Indigenous communities, regulators, and law enforcement to ensure traditional and ceremonial practices are not criminalized.

The eight-member panel represented a diverse range of tribal affiliations and regions, including Thomas Allen of the Sac and Fox Nation and Northern Arapaho; Daniel Castro, a Mestizo Kichwa from Ecuador; Katsi Cook of the St. Regis Mohawk Tribe; Frank Dayish, Belinda Eriacho, and Marlena Robbins of the Navajo Nation (Diné); Dr. Santiago Ivan Guerra, a Coahuiltecan; and Terry G. Knight Sr. and Councilman Darwin Whiteman Jr. of the Ute Mountain Ute Tribe. The group was facilitated by Christine McCleave of the Turtle Mountain Anishinaabe (Ojibwe) Nation. While the group sought to reflect diverse perspectives, they noted it was impossible to capture every viewpoint. 

Adhering to Colorado’s Open Meeting Law, the group convened monthly from May 2024 to February 2025, with members prohibited from communicating outside of official meetings or by email as a group. These restrictions, though intended to ensure transparency, created barriers to trust-building and relational work, ultimately conflicting with Indigenous ways of working.

“This structural mismatch highlights a broader challenge: when Western legal frameworks shape the process, they often constrain the very relationships that make Indigenous participation meaningful and effective,” Christine Diindiisi McCleave, former CEO of the National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition, and the group facilitator, told DoubleBlind.

While members were instructed by DORA’s general counsel not to respond to media inquiries during the creation of the report and the period before its publication, they are now free to share their perspectives as members of the group. Several members, in accordance with DORA’s open-meeting requirements, spoke with DoubleBlind about their concerns.

The Working Group took a cautious stance on Colorado’s Natural Medicine Program, advising against implementing mescaline, iboga, and DMT due to concerns around cultural appropriation, sustainability, and safety. Even psilocybin, the center of Colorado's reforms, came under scrutiny, with members calling for a pause until issues of cultural protection and equitable access are addressed.

“My biggest concern is that psilocybin therapy is moving forward without consent from Native people. If this continues, they will move on to other plant-based Native medicines,” said Frank Dayish, former Vice President of the Navajo Nation and President of the Peyote Way of Life Coalition. “The driver behind the psychedelic industry is profit or dollars and not the sacred medicines used in a traditional manner.”

Another concern that emerged was the potential exploitation of Native identity by so-called “shamans” or “spiritual advisors” — both Native and non-Native. 

“During one meeting, a Diné (Navajo) advisory board member shared a flyer advertising a mushroom and peyote ceremony in Colorado Springs,” said Thomas Allen, statewide NEOGOV System Administrator and Denver American Indian Commissioner. “This clearly illustrates how both psilocybin and Native culture are being commodified, often for profit and sometimes with socio-economic motivations even among Natives.”

The report, released in June 2025, received little public attention despite its pointed recommendation to suspend portions of the NMHA, namely pausing the rollout of the psilocybin therapy program and similar initiatives for mescaline, iboga, and DMT until key concerns are met. It described a legislative process that largely excluded Indigenous voices and reinforced colonial patterns of policymaking by calling upon Indigenous voices late in the rulemaking process.

“They restricted our Native voice as the Colorado law was already passed and the Native Working Group was an afterthought,” shared Dayish. “It was an attempt to get the support the state desired from the native working group to support their law by limiting communications.”

We reached out to representatives at DORA, the NMHA, and Sam Delp, who signed the report, seeking comment on whether the Native Working Group was an afterthought and whether it was truly limiting communications. They did not respond in time for publication, however.

“A critical misstep in Colorado was asking for Native input only after the legislation had been developed and enacted — just before implementation,” said Allen. “To move forward respectfully, input must be sought from the beginning. Additionally, government agencies should employ culturally sensitive staff and implement training prior to engagement. This would foster a more respectful, effective, and collaborative process.”

Among the group’s core recommendations is the creation of permanent Indigenous advisory roles within regulatory bodies; legal safeguards against the misappropriation of Indigenous knowledge and the commercial exploitation of traditional practices; conservation measures to protect endangered plants through Indigenous-led or collaboratively developed environmental initiatives; and policies for revenue-sharing and reinvestment in Indigenous communities. 

Members also reported that their labor and knowledge had been exploited in ways that perpetuated colonial dynamics. For example, as a contractor for DORA, the group facilitator was the only person paid for their work, while the other roles were voluntary, creating a sense of tension within the group.  

“Participants were asked to contribute deep cultural knowledge and significant time without compensation — a dynamic that mirrors broader patterns of extraction from Indigenous peoples,” McCleave said. “That imbalance reflects a broader issue: Indigenous participation is often expected but not adequately resourced.”

Tensions extended not only between the Working Group and state agencies, but within the group’s facilitation structure itself. A handful of members described serious concerns about transparency and process.

Although they adhered strictly to open meetings requirements, some within the working group said facilitator Christine McCleave did not consistently do the same and failed to share opportunities that would have allowed the group to present a unified perspective. Members later learned that McCleave had been featured as a presenter at an international psychedelic conference discussing the report before it was published, and without informing the group. One member described the situation as “very disrespectful” and said it felt like “gatekeeping and manipulation of perspectives.”

In response, McCleave said her appearance at the conference was misunderstood as she was “wearing several hats at once.” She explained that she served as an Indigenous Advisor to MAPS, helping create the Right Relationship Room for Indigenous community members to gather and design their own programming. Separately, she was contracted by DORA to support the state’s Natural Medicine Advisory efforts.

Between these two roles, she said she made an introduction between MAPS and Program Director Lorey Bratten with the intention of bringing greater visibility to the Working Group’s report. The panel itself, she said, was organized by Bratton and the MAPS conference staff, who determined the speaker lineup and overall structure. McCleave added that Bratton asked her to relay an initial invitation to Dr. Santiago Guerra, after which MAPS staff handled the formal follow-up.

McCleave noted that she also extended separate scholarship invitations, through her MAPS role, to Working Group members who had expressed interest in attending the conference. “I participated in the panel because I was already attending as an advisor and presenting my research, and I believed it was important to uplift the Working Group’s report to a broader audience,” she said. “I don’t know why Dr. Guerra was asked, and others weren’t; those decisions were not mine. What I do know is that Working Group members were trying to find their footing within unfamiliar state governance systems and complicated political dynamics. I was doing my best to support them in good faith, but in the midst of so much complexity, some of the tensions were directed toward me.”

McCleave told DoubleBlind that none of these issues are new — even if they often go unspoken — and that they stem from longstanding colonial structures, rather than interpersonal conflict.  “Tensions arise when Western bureaucratic systems collide with Indigenous relational systems. These dynamics shaped the Working Group from the beginning. I wrote about them directly in the report, including the ways lateral oppression can surface when Indigenous people are placed in colonial structures with unequal authority. These are structural issues, not personal failings, and I still believe the work we did on the report was meaningful — even when the politics were difficult.”

The report also highlighted inadequate tribal representation on the Natural Medicine Advisory Board, particularly from Federally Recognized Tribal Nations, and insufficient attention to the rights of the Native American Church. Although the NMHA excludes peyote, it includes mescaline and other mescaline-containing cacti such as San Pedro, raising concerns among several members about how these reforms could ultimately implicate peyote.

Allen noted that San Pedro is commonly used as grafting stock to accelerate peyote growth, a technique widely shared in online cultivation communities, which has increased fears that legal mescaline pathways could inadvertently fuel demand for peyote.

Dayish and Allen were particularly concerned about how mescaline’s inclusion could affect Native communities and intersect with the American Indian Religious Freedom Act (AIRFA), which protects Native Americans’ right to use peyote in religious ceremonies. “I brought this up and requested a presentation from the DEA. I was totally disregarded on the grounds that the Navajo Nation was ‘not a tribe in Colorado’ and not even included in the final report,” said Dayish.

While DORA has issued a temporary pause on San Pedro, the cactus remains slated for implementation at a later date, leaving several members uneasy. Many described ongoing distrust shaped by historical precedent and the ambiguity surrounding future regulatory decisions.

“I was raised in the Native American Church on both sides of my family,” said Allen. “I am extremely cautious about the 'Grey' area and have distrust in the U.S. government's word.”

Tensions between Indigenous and psychedelic reform movements are not new. The Native American Church (NAC) has long opposed including peyote in decriminalization measures made without consultation, warning that doing so could increase demand and undermine Native-led conservation. Many local campaigns have since excluded peyote and other mescaline-containing cacti from reform measures.

It seems unlikely that the Working Group’s recommendations will slow the spread of psilocybin healing centers across Colorado. Still, the report offers valuable lessons for other states considering similar reforms, chiefly, the need to integrate Indigenous and community perspectives from the start.

In recent months, Natural Medicines Alaska (NMA), an Indigenous-led nonprofit working to expand equitable access to psychedelic therapy, has launched a campaign to gather 35,000 signatures to qualify for the 2026 ballot. The Alaska Natural Medicine Act, submitted in June 2025, would decriminalize certain naturally occurring psychedelics and establish regulated medical access for mental health treatment.

Modeled in part on Colorado’s framework, Alaska’s proposal builds on and expands that legislation, proposing a regulated system that combines decriminalization and therapeutic access to psilocybin, psilocin, DMT, mescaline (not derived from peyote), and ibogaine, being the first in the country to include ibogaine under the regulated medical access program. NMA hopes to establish Alaska as “the North Star of the psychedelic reform movement.”

“Colorado helped open the national conversation, but Alaska has an opportunity to lead the next phase — one that integrates science and Indigenous knowledge from the very beginning,” said David Karabelnikoff, Aleutian Athabascan, member of the Knik Tribe, and member of the Natural Medicine Alaska Steering Committee. “Our model improves on Colorado’s by explicitly protecting traditional use, creating an Indigenous-led advisory council.” 

The council would be composed of Indigenous knowledge holders and lineage-based practitioners of traditional medicines, and would guide the state board on the safe, responsible, and culturally informed use of psychedelics and oversee certification for traditional healers. 

“I think Alaska can model what ethical policy reform looks like. Our Traditional Use Council is about restoring balance — making sure Indigenous voices are not only consulted but centered,” shared Karabelnikoff. “If we do this right, it won’t just prevent cultural erasure — it’ll create a living bridge between ancient wisdom and modern healing.”

While there were mixed opinions within the group about Colorado’s model serving as a template for other states, some felt hopeful about its potential, while others saw it as a sore point, noting that key recommendations from Colorado’s Indigenous working group were never acted upon by DORA. 

"While the inclusion of a cultural model is a step in the right direction, the framework still prioritizes a therapeutic model that is colonial in nature,” said McCleave. “None of the Indigenous medicine traditions from around the world — with the exception of the Bwiti peoples of Gabon in the case of iboga — have given consent for their medicines or biocultures to be used in this way.”

No doubt, Alaska has laid more groundwork than most states on cultural protection and equitable access, with initiatives like the Traditional Use Council and a Native-led movement distinguishing its approach to psychedelic policy reform. However, some members of the working group say the state may still face similar challenges to those highlighted in the report.

By contrast, Allen felt hopeful and encouraged that Colorado’s model was being used as a template for other states, sharing that this emerging field of therapy could potentially be beneficial for healing intergenerational trauma in Native communities. “If done right — with respect, inclusion, and cultural safety — regulated psychedelic therapy could support, rather than suppress, our traditions.”

Karabelnikoff shared that Natural Medicines Alaska has been using the Working Group Report to inform their proposal. He noted, however, that Colorado’s Open Meetings Law has been a hindrance, making formal engagement with Colorado’s working group members difficult because they are still unable to gather outside of official meetings.

Although there were divergent opinions among working group members, one thing is certain: they all emphasize the need to move slowly, holding trust-building and relationship at the center. 

As Colorado builds on Oregon’s example and Alaska prepares to follow suit, a cascade of state-level drug policy reforms is unfolding that would have seemed unthinkable just a decade ago. Yet, there is a striking irony in this so-called “progress,” as the Controlled Substances Act and the War on Drugs were built on systemic racism and created the policies that have contributed to severe cultural erasure. Reform is urgently needed to repair the damage of prohibition, but if healing is the goal, how do we ensure it happens in right relationship, rather than repeating the very patterns it seeks to undo?

Looking to the future, it is going to take deep relationship and trust-building between Indigenous communities and the larger psychedelic infrastructure, a process that will require time to establish. 

“Honestly, the hard truth for everyone is to stop, pause, and reflect before rushing forward,” McCleave said. “We need to allow time and patience for those processes to unfold and for best practices to emerge. Indigenous peoples — and all communities — deserve that level of care, diligence, and thoughtful consideration when it comes to sacred medicines.”

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