Gatekeeping is when knowledge is treated as something to be guarded instead of shared.
Recently some of my lovely regular customers asked me what paint color I used on the walls of my store, and I told them (it’s called, “Salty Dog," by Sherwin Williams, btw). Then I overheard one of them say to the other, “She isn’t gatekeeping.”
It got me thinking. I’ll be perfectly honest here and tell you it’s a subject that gets under my skin sometimes, but there are many reasons for gatekeeping, and they aren’t always nefarious. I also won’t preach to you from my high horse, because I’ve been guilty of it myself plenty in the past. There have been times when I've felt possessive over what I’ve worked so hard (and paid so much) to learn.
Some of the reasons for gatekeeping may include:
Fear of being made less important, or even replaced - When someone ties their identity or income to being “the expert,” sharing knowledge can feel like giving away job security.
Trauma from misinformation - After watching dangerous advice spread online, some folks swing hard in the opposite direction and lock everything down.
Protection instinct - They genuinely want to keep people safe and believe restricting access is safer than teaching discernment.
Credential insecurity - If someone invested years, money, or hardship into training, it can sting to see others learning easier or faster.
Control feels safer than trust - Letting others learn means trusting them to act responsibly.
Burnout - Teaching is exhausting. When people are tired of explaining the basics over and over, they may default to “figure it out yourself.”
Past dismissal or disrespect - People who weren’t taken seriously early on may unconsciously repeat the same barriers once they’re inside.
Legal or ethical fear - Concerns about liability, regulation, or misuse can lead to an overcorrection toward silence.
Being taught that way themselves - Many were raised in systems where knowledge was earned through hardship, not generosity. Old patterns die hard.
Scarcity mindset - The belief that there’s only so much success, respect, or recognition to go around. If someone else wins, then maybe they are losing.
Most gatekeeping isn’t rooted in malice. It’s rooted in fear, grief, and exhaustion. I believe the alternative is education with boundaries, sharing with context, and community instead of competition.
Herbalism has seen plenty of it over the years. Here’s where I stand.
I run an apothecary. I make products. I do consultations and teach classes. Yes, I want my business to thrive. I want to pay my bills and hopefully, eventually, make some profit to enjoy. That part matters a great deal to me. But I don’t believe that success requires hoarding information.
Herbal knowledge was never meant to be locked away. It was passed hand to hand, kitchen to kitchen, generation to generation. A lot of that wisdom was lost when it became “professionalized,” commercialized, or stripped from the communities it came from. We’re still feeling that loss.
I don’t believe there’s only room for a few people at the table. There is room for herbalists, home learners, gardeners, tea drinkers, clinicians, elders, and the next generation who are just starting to ask questions. There is room for curiosity and for caution at the same time.
Am I saying that everything should be freely handed over with no discernment? Of course not. Many of us have spent years refining our formulas, learning through trial, error, and experience. I’m happy to share ingredient lists and teach what those plants do, and even basic medicine making techniques, but specific product methods, the timing, the process … that’s something each person needs to learn and develop for themselves. That balance feels fair to me: Knowledge shared, craft earned.
My goal has never been just to sell herbs. My goal is to share what I know, teach responsibly, and hopefully help people reconnect with plant medicine in a grounded, informed, and fun way. If that inspires someone to learn more, teach their kids, grow some herbs, or maybe even open their own shop one day, then I feel I have succeeded. It’s not about competition, it’s about community, and the majority of the herbalists I know feel the same. Herbalism survives when it’s shared. And I will always choose an open table over a locked gate.
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