Rhode Island Bars And Restaurants Push Back On Proposal To Ban Hemp THC Drink Sales
Rhode Island hemp THC beverage ban. That’s the headline hanging over the state like neon at last call, buzzing with nerves and possibility. On a gray Monday Zoom, regulators floated a proposal to boot hemp-derived THC drinks from restaurants and bars—just months after about 120 licensed retailers began serving low-dose delta-9 sippers under state guidance. Hospitality voices pushed back, hard. They argued that on-premise consumption is safer, more controlled, and less likely to drift into the chaos of unregulated living rooms and parking lots.
“Putting hemp THC-derived beverages on premise at a restaurant or bar is actually the safest way to consume these products.”
The Cannabis Control Commission didn’t spell out why a ban belongs in its draft rules, which it aims to finalize and send to lawmakers by March 1. But the subtext was loud enough: a scramble to tame an industry that grew faster than the rulebook.
Start with the lab problem. Most hemp-derived drinks touching Rhode Island bars come from beyond state lines, and they’re tested there too, under patchwork standards. The commission wants to tighten that up—require out-of-state labs to be certified by the Rhode Island Department of Health and push these beverages through cannabis-equivalent testing. Think pesticides, heavy metals, residual solvents, cannabinoid profiles, microcontaminants—the unglamorous checklist that keeps a nightcap from becoming a chemistry experiment. No one on the call fought that move. They nodded, virtually, at a cleaner, clearer supply chain. If the state wants to treat these cans like cannabis when it comes to safety, the industry seems ready to play ball. The fight begins when you start tallying the bill.
Tax the buzz, and you reshape the market. Right now, hemp products pay the standard 7 percent sales tax. Regulators floated two alternatives: fold in the cannabis tax model with an additional 3 percent local cannabis excise on top of the sales tax, or slap a 15 percent tax on wholesale cost. A Providence beverage maker pointed out the obvious: this doesn’t line up neatly with neighbors. In Massachusetts, intoxicating hemp products were shoved toward cannabis retailers and stacked with a 10.75 percent excise, a 6.25 percent sales tax, and up to 3 percent local tax. Connecticut took a different turn: a flat $1 fee per can, plus its 6.35 percent sales tax. Each structure tells a story about who gets to sell, who gets paid, and whether the consumer opts for a compliant drink at a bar—or something untracked from somewhere else. Call it cannabis taxation as social engineering, where a few percentage points can tip a fledgling category into either legitimacy or oblivion.
Then there’s the federal undertow. A provision tucked into last fall’s government funding deal would effectively ban hemp products exceeding 0.4 milligrams of THC per unit starting in November. Rhode Island’s current limit—up to 1 milligram per serving or 5 milligrams per package—runs hotter than that, and regulators know it. Congress may delay enforcement for two years, or it may not. In the meantime, local farmers hear the clock ticking. One grower put it bluntly: the state has already made peace with breaking federal ranks on cannabis—why fold now on hemp? It’s not just theoretical; across the map, cannabis policy is a tug-of-war with real money and livelihoods on the rope. When prohibitionist efforts stumble—like the Maine Anti-Marijuana Campaign Misses Deadline To Submit Signatures For Legalization Rollback Ballot Initiative—it signals where voters are. When executives flirt with shutdowns, the bill gets real fast, as seen when the Oklahoma Attorney General Warns That State Would Need To ‘Reimburse’ Medical Marijuana Businesses Under Governor’s Plan To Shut Down Market. And on the patient front, hospital access inches forward in places like Virginia, where Virginia Senators Approve Bill To Let Patients Access Medical Marijuana In Hospitals After Federal Rescheduling. It’s a patchwork quilt—some squares stitched tight, others fraying under the heat lamp of politics.
Back in Rhode Island, the most persuasive argument against an on-premise ban is also the simplest: control. Staff can card. Managers can cut off a guest. Bars can track inventory. None of that exists when the can goes home to a coffee table next to another drink and a set of car keys. A moratorium already halted new on-site licenses over the summer; a permanent ban could freeze this hybrid category in amber, right when it’s maturing. If the state wants to lead, there’s a middle path: rigorous testing, clear labeling, sensible serving caps, and a tax structure that doesn’t shove consumers into the gray market. That’s how normalization happens—not by pretending these products don’t exist, but by insisting they exist responsibly. For a deeper dive into why prohibition-by-another-name backfires, see Banning Hemp Drinks Threatens To Undermine The Growing Normalization Of Cannabis (Op-Ed). If you’re ready to explore compliant options while the policy dust settles, visit our shop: https://thcaorder.com/shop/.
