Photography Gatekeeping: Why Some Photographers Feel the Need to Guard the Gate

There are a lot of things in this world that I simply don’t understand.

Some of them are big, complicated questions that political scientists, historians, and late night talk show hosts will probably argue about for the next hundred years. For example, I will never understand why anyone voted for Donald Trump. That one alone could keep a panel of experts busy for decades.

I will also never understand why people argue with complete strangers on Facebook like they’re defending their doctoral thesis in the comments section of a blurry meme.

But one thing that really puzzles me is this strange human urge to decide who counts as a “real” fan of something.

You see it everywhere.

Someone casually mentions they like Star Wars, and almost immediately someone shows up to administer the loyalty exam.

“Oh yeah? If you’re a real Star Wars fan, name all the lightsaber colors and what each one means.”

Why?

Why do we do this?

Why can’t someone just enjoy a thing without having to pass some kind of pop quiz designed by the self-appointed High Council of Nerd Credentials?

I saw a perfect example of this recently while scrolling through Instagram. A street photographer was walking through New York City filming an IG reel. As he passed a man on the sidewalk, the guy casually said, almost like a drive-by insult:

“Real photographers shoot with film.”

And I remember thinking… what a strange thing to say to someone.

Why do we feel the need to build these little fences around our hobbies? Why do we put up gates and then stand there deciding who’s allowed in and who isn’t? What exactly do we gain from that?

I’ve never understood it.

Maybe that’s partly because of how I got started in photography about ten years ago.

Back then I knew two things for certain. First, I didn’t know very much about photography. Second, I really wanted to learn how to take great photos.

The problem was that I didn’t personally know any great photographers. I didn’t have a mentor or a teacher showing me the ropes. So I did what a lot of people did at the time. I joined a few photography groups on Facebook.

For a while I just watched the conversations. People sharing photos, talking about cameras, arguing about technique. It seemed like a place where someone like me might actually learn something.

Eventually I got brave enough to post a few of my own photos.

Now, to be clear, I wasn’t under any illusion that they were great. They weren’t. They were amateur at best. But I wanted to get better, and the only way to do that was to ask people who knew more than I did.

So I posted the photos and asked if anyone had advice on how I could improve.

I didn’t get advice.

What I got instead were hundreds of comments telling me how terrible my photos were. People telling me I should sell my camera gear and quit photography altogether. That I wasn’t an artist. That I would never amount to anything.

It got so bad that eventually the owner of the Facebook group stepped in and told people to back off. But by that point the damage had already been done.

So I left the group.

But here’s the thing. Instead of quitting photography like those commenters suggested, I did the exact opposite. I decided I was going to prove them wrong.

For the last ten years I’ve practiced constantly. I’ve studied photography, experimented with different styles, made mistakes, learned from them, and kept going.

And today, if I’m being completely honest, I would say I’m equal to, if not better that, many of the photographers who gave me grief back then.

Not because I’m some kind of prodigy.

Just because I didn’t stop.

What’s strange, though, is that ten years later I still see the same behavior in photography communities. Gatekeeping knowledge. Mocking beginners. Acting like jerks toward anyone who hasn’t been doing it as long as they have.

And I still don’t understand it.

Why do we deliberately create this us versus them mentality? Why do we separate ourselves into little tribes just so we can feel superior to someone else?

It’s toxic. And honestly, it needs to stop.

So if you’re reading this, I want to offer a small challenge.

This week, find someone who is just starting out at something. Photography, writing, music, anything. And instead of testing them or criticizing them just for being new, try lifting them up.

Encourage them. Share something you’ve learned. Help them improve.

Because every single one of us started out not knowing what we were doing.

And the world would probably be a much better place if we spent less time guarding the gate… and more time holding it open for the next person.