I wrote something in the same vein for my email earlier. Mistaking exposure and sharing for intimacy; "connections" with relationships, the world feels intimacy-less right now, lacking space for vulnerability. The immediacy and ease of access to information raises our demand to Veruca Salt "I want it now" level: we expect access, we expect details without working, putting effort in, for it. And we also display ourselves without boundaries, too: to constantly share our lives is the norm. But that leads to a hyper-awareness of how one's constantly read and, because the internet is the most empathetic space, causes self-censorship via self-commodification, crafting a perfectly curated/branded self as armor against avoid negative exposure. It shuts people down from being vulnerable and letting their guards down, thereby blocking any chance of finding intimate connection, from deeper relationships that result in things like "biodiverse" subcultures. Gate keeping can be an effort to salvage these sorts of relationships.
"The Other Side of Gate-Keeping
Viewed one-dimensionally, the other concept that requires clarification is gate-keeping. Only seen to be a fence, its hinge is forgotten. A gate is the passage between interior and exterior, from one space to another, private to public, mine to another's. It is both about keeping out and allowing in. The current conception of “gate-keeping” is exclusionary, cast aside its ability of letting people in. It is just as much about blocking someone’s presence as cautiously permitting entry. Whereas a fence is defensive, a gate is where defensiveness can fall — where trust is tested. Gate-keeping is yes about exclusion — you can’t sit with us — but also the process of self-protection, of deciding who enters your “home,” where you let your guard down. Selective in either instance, one establishing a hierarchy and the other an intimate gesture — exposing one’s vulnerabilities and potential weaknesses. A gate is an architectural reminder that you’re entering private grounds, sacred space. In an era where we constantly share our lives, gatekeeping can facilitate calm and intimacy, where one can make mistakes and embody eccentricities without worrying about others’ eager eyes, their judgements. Stepping through the threshold via a gate is a reminder that someone else’s world is precious, not to be publicized on your terms — you’re in their home. This second dimension, the empathetic cousin of privacy, deserves recognition, as well."
I love that you are exploring gatekeeping. I agree with Gray, below, that gatekeeping and intimacy are related. But what of the consumer who unearths an underground band who must decide which is paramount: their savored, hoarded knowledge or the pocketbook of the band. The ethical enthusiast supports the popularity of the artist (shouts it from the mountain tops.) When economics are removed from the equation, gatekeeping becomes a most holy thing. From the sacred "don't kiss and tell" to the premise of Fight Club.
I wrote something in the same vein for my email earlier. Mistaking exposure and sharing for intimacy; "connections" with relationships, the world feels intimacy-less right now, lacking space for vulnerability. The immediacy and ease of access to information raises our demand to Veruca Salt "I want it now" level: we expect access, we expect details without working, putting effort in, for it. And we also display ourselves without boundaries, too: to constantly share our lives is the norm. But that leads to a hyper-awareness of how one's constantly read and, because the internet is the most empathetic space, causes self-censorship via self-commodification, crafting a perfectly curated/branded self as armor against avoid negative exposure. It shuts people down from being vulnerable and letting their guards down, thereby blocking any chance of finding intimate connection, from deeper relationships that result in things like "biodiverse" subcultures. Gate keeping can be an effort to salvage these sorts of relationships.
"The Other Side of Gate-Keeping
Viewed one-dimensionally, the other concept that requires clarification is gate-keeping. Only seen to be a fence, its hinge is forgotten. A gate is the passage between interior and exterior, from one space to another, private to public, mine to another's. It is both about keeping out and allowing in. The current conception of “gate-keeping” is exclusionary, cast aside its ability of letting people in. It is just as much about blocking someone’s presence as cautiously permitting entry. Whereas a fence is defensive, a gate is where defensiveness can fall — where trust is tested. Gate-keeping is yes about exclusion — you can’t sit with us — but also the process of self-protection, of deciding who enters your “home,” where you let your guard down. Selective in either instance, one establishing a hierarchy and the other an intimate gesture — exposing one’s vulnerabilities and potential weaknesses. A gate is an architectural reminder that you’re entering private grounds, sacred space. In an era where we constantly share our lives, gatekeeping can facilitate calm and intimacy, where one can make mistakes and embody eccentricities without worrying about others’ eager eyes, their judgements. Stepping through the threshold via a gate is a reminder that someone else’s world is precious, not to be publicized on your terms — you’re in their home. This second dimension, the empathetic cousin of privacy, deserves recognition, as well."
I love that you are exploring gatekeeping. I agree with Gray, below, that gatekeeping and intimacy are related. But what of the consumer who unearths an underground band who must decide which is paramount: their savored, hoarded knowledge or the pocketbook of the band. The ethical enthusiast supports the popularity of the artist (shouts it from the mountain tops.) When economics are removed from the equation, gatekeeping becomes a most holy thing. From the sacred "don't kiss and tell" to the premise of Fight Club.
The title of this article is the question of the century I feel