Throwing the Gates Open

"The Opening of the Gate" by Louis Dalrymple, 1894. Library of Congress.

Yesterday I went to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. I had not been in many years, and I've never seen the whole thing. It was enormous and full of priceless artifacts. But.

Most of those artifacts were displayed apart from their historical and cultural context. The labels were sparse. The introductions often non-existent. Some of the exhibit cases resembled a robber baron's garage sale, with objects arranged and labeled with little or no relation to each other. Undefined terminology and jargon strange even to a veteran historian with a Master's degree popped up often. To be honest, much of the museum smacked of gatekeeping. 

There's a lot of gatekeeping in academia. Some folks are so insecure in their abilities that excluding others makes them feel important. Others are so wrapped up in the minutiae of their studies they forget that the outside world does not share their frames of reference. Still others were raised to think of themselves as more talented, more intelligent, more deserving than others, and these folks seem to think that a gate protects them. 

Having been raised in a more egalitarian, middle-class, Scandinavian-American household, I dislike gatekeeping. And jargon. And, frankly, anything or any action that seeks to exclude others and hide knowledge for a select few. To quote the great Steve Rogers, "I don't like bullies. I don't care where they're from." 

I realized today that I had been partially participating in that gatekeeping, albeit unwittingly. As with many online content creators, I was told that monetization was the way to go. And for folks who make their livings full-time at this sort of thing, that makes sense. But that won't be me until I retire, and I'm in a much better place financially now than I was ten years ago when I started this website. 

As of today, I will no longer charge a membership fee to access any part of my website, nor will I provide members-only content, nor will I ask for memberships at the bottom of every post. Existing Patreon patrons will have the option to continue their memberships to help pay for the upkeep of this website and my email service. Substack has always been free and I've been clear from the get-go that folks who become paid members won't be getting anything special in return. And folks can always leave a tip, if they're so inclined. But while my time is now much more limited than it was when I started this website nearly 10 years ago, my coffers are far less bare. So I've decided it's time to throw open the gates and share the metaphorical wealth. 

Thanks to some help from volunteer Elissia, you can now access dozens (hundreds?) of free public domain cookbooks, organized into a vintage cookbook bibliography. It's a work-in-progress, but there's quite a lot there to explore. You can also now read my thesis free of charge, along with other publications, and download printable themed newsletters previously only available to members. They're all listed under the "resource" tab on my website. Eventually, I'll update the bibliography with more recent publications. I'll also be recycling some previously members-only blog posts on the public blog in the coming weeks, months, and years.

I have a dozen or more brand new blog posts waiting in the wings, so I hope to be able to carve out more time to finish them sometime soon. I've also made some progress on the book, and I hope to be able to spend more time on it in the coming months. If I have time, I'll send periodic updates on that as well. 

When I started this website in 2015, I had just finished my Master's thesis and had realized the depths of my interest in food history more generally. This website has become a place for me to share primary sources, consolidate ideas, and even engage in the occasional rant from time to time. I've been inspired by reader and listener questions, internet memes, and my own exciting discoveries. The blog and this website aren't going anywhere anytime soon. I'm proud of how often thefoodhistorian.com shows up in search results - my tiny contribution to internet mythbusting in a sea of misinformation and badly researched history.

So whether you've had a paid membership via Substack or Patreon, you've attended one of my talks or read an article, or whether you subscribed to this website on a curious whim, thank you for your support. It's time to return the favor. 

Go forth and enjoy, dear readers, the gates are open. Happy food historying!