Op-ed: Nicotine, rebellion and the fight to do better for the next generation

By Jessika Easterling, Founding Executive Director, OUR Place (Open United Recovery)

I smoked my first cigarette the summer before high school, rolled with American Spirit tobacco a friend had swiped. We sat under the sun, curious and rebellious, and I got a buzz that felt delightfully lightheaded and pleasant— almost invigorating. By fall, I was posted up on “the hill” behind the school parking lot with the rest of the misfits, lighting up before first bell and again at lunch. I wasn’t trying to fit in—I never did. I was loud, dramatic, and voted “most unique” more times than I can count. But like so many others, my first act of rebellion turned into a chemical leash I’ve been dragging around ever since.

Today, I lead a peer-run recovery organization that supports hundreds of people battling addiction. I’ve been in recovery for nearly a decade, much of it centered around holistic healing and wellness— yoga, nature hikes, community meetings. And yet? I still sneak out for smoke breaks like a teenager hiding from authority. That’s the part that stings — not just because I’m ashamed, but because I know exactly how deep this addiction runs.

Quitting nicotine isn’t just hard— it’s a war. I’ve switched to vaping, quit during pregnancies, tried patches, gum, cold turkey. Most recently, I booked a laser therapy session that comes highly recommended, hoping to finally break free. I want to quit for good— not because of stigma, but because I’m starting to feel the damage: the shortness of breath, the drop in cardio endurance, the dental issues. I’ve worked too hard to heal to let this one vice keep dragging me backward.

And here’s the thing: I’m not alone. So many of the people we serve in recovery started with nicotine. Not heroin. Not pills. Not booze. Tobacco. It was the first thread that got pulled— and that matters.

The tobacco industry has always known this. They didn’t accidentally market to kids— they built empires on it. In the ’90s, they handed out Camel Cash like candy and made cartoon mascots cooler than any health class lecture. Today, it’s vapes with mango mist and cotton candy clouds, sleek enough to hide in a hoodie sleeve. Different decade, same game. And kids are still losing.

We need smarter policies— not to punish adults, but to protect young brains that haven’t yet learned the cost of addiction.

That means:

Limiting flavored nicotine products marketed to kids—without criminalizing harm reduction for adults. If there’s a compromise to strike, let’s strike it.

Actually enforcing age verification on every platform that sells nicotine, especially online. No more loopholes.

Investing in prevention education that speaks to young people in a way they’ll actually hear: truth-telling, not scare tactics.

Expanding access to cessation resources for youth already caught in the grip. Quitting is hard enough without having to do it alone.

Some will argue about personal freedom. I get it; I’m a smoker, too. But addiction isn’t freedom. If someone had helped protect me at 14, I might not be 45 with damaged lungs and a lighter still in my coat pocket.

Our job as adults, as leaders, as people in recovery, isn’t to judge kids for being curious or rebellious. It’s to make sure the systems we build don’t exploit that curiosity. If we can do that, we give them a better shot than we had.

And isn’t that the whole point?