It Has Become More Acceptable to Smoke Crack Than Cigarettes in America

Not to sound like one of those people who return from Europe acting all worldly and cultured, but the way Americans have reshaped the stigma around smoking cigarettes is truly remarkable—and, frankly, a bit extreme. Spending time in Turkey made me realize just how differently smoking is perceived in other parts of the world. Over there, it’s almost seen as odd not to smoke. It doesn’t matter whether you’re indoors, outdoors, young, or old—everyone seems to have a cigarette in hand. Smoking is ingrained into the social fabric, and it’s more than just a habit; it’s a shared experience.

Now, to be clear, I’m not advocating for a cultural reversal in America. I have asthma, and if everyone started smoking cigarettes 24/7, I’d probably be in serious trouble. But what I find fascinating is how America managed to socially "cancel" cigarettes so thoroughly that smoking went from being glamorous and commonplace to nearly unthinkable in just a few decades. The shift was so effective that it’s now almost more socially acceptable to see someone doing hard drugs like crack than smoking a cigarette.

Think about it: walk through any major city, and spotting someone smoking crack might elicit little more than a shrug. “Oh, it’s just a crackhead,” you think as you keep moving. But see someone casually smoking a cigarette? Immediate judgment. Your brain automatically jumps to thoughts like, Wow, what a gross, self-destructive loser. It’s wild to consider how the narrative around cigarettes shifted so drastically in such a short span of time.

I’m not denying that cigarettes are gross or harmful. The science is clear, and the health risks are undeniable. But the way America collectively decided to demonize cigarettes above all other substances is still astonishing. The anti-tobacco campaigns of the late 20th and early 21st centuries weren’t just effective; they were relentless. I grew up watching commercials on Nickelodeon featuring kids refusing cigarettes and ominous statistics about tobacco deaths. By the time I was 10, I was fully convinced I’d never touch a cigarette in my life.

And yet, despite all that, by the time I was 15, I was puffing on a Juul like it was second nature. Vaping swept in to fill the void cigarettes left behind, rebranding nicotine in a sleek, tech-forward way that appealed to my generation. Fast-forward to now, and I spend my days packing Lucy breakers, even though I swore off smoking years ago. 

The larger point here is that America’s ability to stigmatize cigarettes on such a massive scale is both impressive and a little unsettling. It raises questions about how cultural norms and public health narratives are shaped, who decides what’s “acceptable,” and why. We managed to reframe cigarettes as the ultimate taboo, yet vaping and other addictive behaviors continue to thrive. It’s a fascinating, if not slightly hypocritical, paradox that says as much about our society as it does about the substances we consume.