While there's a legitimate argument to be made (in some cases) for gatekeeping, i much prefer learning out loud.
Back in undergrad, in the office hours for heat transfer (regarded as amongst one of the most difficult chemE courses for undergrad), everyone would come into this large room in the biotech building basement, and we would all just work on homework at the same time. TAs would be walking around, but three TAs couldn't keep up—not with 12 multi-part problems and 50+ students in the same room. The better approach was collaborative: work on a problem, talk to others working on the same problem, double check each other's work, and cross check answers. Some students would try and hide their work, or avoid sharing. They'd come into office hours to check their answers with the TA and then leaving as soon as they got what they wanted. I learned so much more by roaming around the room, sharing my work, and getting insights from others.
So many communities exist, with this inherent and intrinsic strength of the shared values within the community. Gatekeeping can serve as a way to preserve that strength, by rejecting those who would hope to enter the community to extract from it in some way. Most of these communities are extremely supportive and welcoming, and people take advantage to "bite" a culture and repackage it on their own for views, clout, or monetization. Take for example prada and the biting of the kohlapuri chapal. Without the depth of history and respect for the craftspeople that bring this art form to life, they steal the surface-level design to upmarket it to fashionable socialites.
Gatekeeping usually has this really elitist connotation, of retaining information, control, or access to resources. But I've noticed that in certain contexts rather than an air of elitism, gatekeeping is implemented as a defense mechanism to protect a community from those who would hope to take advantage of it.
Creative scenes, and artists circles developing their own styles and techniques; the fashion space and cultural crafts; dance communities like the ballroom and breaking scene that build upon Black and LGBTQ+ history. It comes down to the paradox of tolerance: extending tolerance to the intolerant risks enabling those very same intolerant to spread their intolerance. To maintain a tolerant society, society must be intolerant of intolerance.
That's not to say it doesn't still create barriers: even protective gatekeeping can serve as an obstacle for genuine newcomers. Gatekeeping can calcify a community - it increases the threshold necessary to participate in it, preventing growth and stifling exploration. And the question becomes, how do you distinguish between extractors and earnest learners? I've found a few ways:
You can't always judge intent from the outside. I've started exploring communities (fashion, audio electronics, graffiti) just out of curiosity and then along the way fell in love with it, and grew to become a genuine participant. Conversely, you might start with pure intentions but still cause harm through ignorance or carelessness. That's why I think focusing solely on intent misses the point. You also need to factor in impact: and impact reveals itself through time and behavior patterns. Do you cite sources? Do you engage with the community's history and context? Do you listen when community members express concerns or are you dismissive?
Time and consistency is one of the most honest filters we have. Extractors want quick wins: to swoop in, grab what they want, repackage it for their gain, and move on. Earnest learners stick around. Are you learning hip hop just to replicate a move? Or do you dig into the history and culture behind it? Do you take the time and put in the effort to understand the space you want to join? Do you show up to ask questions and make mistakes? Are you comfortable apologizing- and is it for growth, not performance?
Do you give props to those who helped you get where you are? Earnest learners understand that they stand on the shoulders of others to learn. Attribution isn't just about avoiding plagiarism, it's about respect. It's one of the tenets of graff culture: knowledge, style, and craft don't exist in a vacuum. They all come from somewhere and someone, and those people and resources deserve recognition.
By existing for some time in online communities, you can start to establish your own persona, start forging connections and become a recognized and contributing figure. But when it comes to breaking into those scenes/spaces initially, you have to start somewhere! This tension between protecting communities and welcoming newcomers isn't something we can eliminate, but it's definitely navigable. That's where learning out loud becomes powerful.
That's where those who learn out loud serve as a welcoming threshold. Rather than "hiding the sauce" (hiding the source), they share their journey and resources openly. I've seen countless videos and guides online made by people who want to bring people along with them for the ride. Sharing software, websites, techniques, and even highlighting other creators.
This is the final distinction I've noticed: that of reciprocity. Communities thrive on exchange: "what can I give back? How can I contribute?" Even if you can't contribute knowledge yet, you can contribute time, energy, enthusiasm, support for others, and amplification of community voices.
Most of the learning that stuck with me through college wasn't digested out of a textbook, but rather fragmented pages across the internet that I sought out and pieced together the knowledge I wanted to gain. People have written entire curricula and learning pathways and published them online for others to view and gain from.
Last week, I was working in the Denver Library's makerspace, and one of the staff members struck up a conversation with me. We talked about music, and distortion effects, and he mentioned that he was interested in learning electronics further.
I whipped out my notebook and walked him through a list of resources I recommended looking into: youtube videos, books (practical electronics for inventors), and the Navy Electricity and Electronics Training Series (NEETS). He was ecstatic by the end, beaming, talking about how glad he was that I'd come into the makerspace that day.. I'd been exactly where he was, and it was youtube, reddit, and old forums that helped me when I started out, and now I got to pass it forward.
Learning out loud doesn't just help to build community, but also helps the learner themselves. I've been tutoring since 2019, and I've always found that no matter how much effort I put into note taking, the real internalization of my learning always happens when I try to apply that knowledge to teach others. (The Feynman Technique in action!) Feynman recommended to try and explain a concept in plain language, like if you were trying to teach a child. If you can't, then you don't really understand it. Trying to teach reveals gaps in your knowledge, and forces you to anticipate confusion.
Studying chemical and biological engineering for four years didn't teach me how to engineer per se, but it taught me how to learn. How to gain knowledge in unfamiliar spaces. How to identify foundational concepts. How to structure my learning journey. In essence: how to know what I don't know, and what to do about it.
Now, there are so many areas I want to explore: electronics, music production, web development, design, fashion, history. I'm a perpetual beginner in so many things. But instead of seeing that as something to hide until I achieve some arbitrary level of mastery, I'm choosing to document the journey (imperfections and all). Not because I think my path is the best one, but because it's my own to do with as I please.
I'm going to build a dedicated section on my site: ashish.is/learning. Not just my own lectures, guides, tutorials, but also showcasing and sharing the resources that helped me develop that understanding - the people, courses, articles, and rabbit holes that shaped my understanding. A public record of my learning journey and an invitation for others to follow along (: