If you’re out in the garden or in your yard, or in the woods underneath autumn-yellow trees, it’s easy to think that herbalism belongs to everyone. Every one of us can inhale the aroma of flowers, snip off a twig, and even dig up a dandelion root. Then, every one of us can use it in what we would call “herbalism” to advance our health or the health of loved ones.

Is Herbal Medicine Inclusive? Will I Be Welcome?

Yet… I’ve seen lately (and I’ve been in the herbal medicine world more than 30 years)... a change in this perception. I’m witnessing an unfortunate shift that brings jealousy and territory into herbal practice. For instance, people are beginning to put walls around who qualifies as an herbalist. And labels. Some say that to be an herbalist you must be a regenerative farmer. Others imply you must be a homesteader without electricity or running water and live feral off the land (I’ve exaggerated this a bit, but it’s not far off). I read an opinion piece recently where the author argued that only herbalists who learn at the knee of their indigenous elder grandparents are “real” herbalists.

I’d like to put an end to this kind of bickering and say that if we don’t come together in tolerance and acceptance, the herbalism that our children inherit will be far different from the type of practice we each envision. To label ourselves is to fraction our tribe. To pit one herbalist against another is to weaken the very independent spirit of plant healing that most of us hold dear.

Collaboration in the Healing Arts

Instead of this division and territorialism, I’d like to see us embrace a wide variety of herbal practitioners–from ancestral to farming to scientific to eclectic to hippy to university-trained to exploratory. I know herbalists who have degrees who make plant therapeutics and chemistry their salaried, life’s work. I also know herbalists who are nurses full-time and practice herbal medicine on the side. Doctors who integrate herbalism into their work. I also know people who value their heritage and for them, brewing their cups of tea is an homage to their ancestors. Yet I’m sure that none of these specific people I know believes that theirs is the only way.

We're in This Together

Just like our country is known as a “melting pot,” so is our industry a menagerie of beliefs, methods, strategies, and lore. The natural products industry (and forgive me, but yes, herbalism fits into this category) is wide and varied and cosmetics are as much a part of herbalism as teas. I personally advocate for stringent rules in the natural products industry that maintain sustainability, animal-free testing and ingredients, reputable sourcing, and down-stream waste philosophies. Still, the owner of a manufacturing who makes and sells thousands of calendula cream products in a laboratory can be as much an herbalist as the housewife who plucks the calendula from her garden and adds it to a few teaspoons of oil and beeswax.

Also, of course, herbalism goes beyond natural products. It includes the wild and ferocious advocacy of wilderness protection. It includes those who press for political and legal guarantees to protect our rights. It includes the regenerative farms and sanctuaries that protect species from extinction. It includes the small apothecaries who pay rent on Main Street.

My Path to Herbalism

Herbalism is so varied and that variety is a trait we must welcome. I personally went through many phases in my herbal journey. I started as a gardener at a historic bed and breakfast, where I’d till the soil and collect arrowheads that popped up. In this early phase, I learned from friends how to eat chickweed and dip locust flowers in cold water for a snack. My next phase was to study as much as I could, taking classes and workshops and flying hither and thither to herbal conferences where, I must admit, herbal territorialism was already sprouting. A subsequent phase included opening a small apothecary business and experimenting with vinegar tinctures and tasting every plant I came across. Later, I refined my approach and developed an identity that felt right to me.

I could’ve gone to a university to study herbalism; I didn’t, but it would’ve been fine. I could have gotten a job at a pharmaceutical company analyzing the chemical compounds of plants. I didn’t, but it would’ve been fine. I could have purchased 30 acres of farmland and become a producer, grower, and drier of herbs that I shipped around the world in bags. I didn’t, but it would have been fine.

My apprentices have all been herbalists, even if it was a side-gig for them or they didn’t really see it as a career. My herbal colleagues can call themselves a variety of names, such as acupuncturist, massage therapists, even social workers. At the end of the day, they’re all plant lovers or healers and they’re on this learning journey with the rest of us.

Ferris Bueller didn’t like “isms.” Herbalism is an ism, and we can let it become more of an ism, or we can let it evolve and nurture and protect and support and enliven and reveal. Those of us who wish to serve others will study and learn; those of us who wish to support ourselves will study and learn. Those of us who wish to use the moniker “herbalist” are almost always using it from a place of respect and humility, regardless of which direction we followed on this curvy, twisting path.

Are We Credentialed?

We can seek credentials or we can seek understanding. They’re not the same thing, though each of these is right for some and not for others. When I interviewed Zapotec Curandera and midwife Enriqueta Contreras for my book Women Healers of the World: The Traditions, History and Geography of Herbal Medicine, she was very open about the fact that she was self-taught from hands-on experience and that she did not have a university degree. When the Mexican government pressed her to stop delivering babies until she completed a degree program, she laughed. “What am I going to do?” she asked me. “Put the certificate under the lady while she’s giving birth?” She knew what she needed to know, and pursuing another route or path was not in her cards.

You get the point. All of these paths are herbal paths, and they’re all relevant. Each of us has a Mother Nature-given gift where we shine our passion for plants. Some of us herbalists are photographers; some of us are midwives. Some of us herbalists are whitewater rafting, desert-combing rebels; some of us are accountants by day and tea blenders by night. I hope we don’t take ourselves too seriously to the point where we obliterate the magic of herbal medicine and the camaraderie of our community. Learning–and then sharing what we learn–is the heart of herbalism. None of us knows it all. None of us has the only path. We are all brothers and sisters in our discoveries. We must hold ourselves to a standard of openness and tolerance while at the same time holding in reverance both the art and the science that is our unique industry and heritage.

If you’re wondering if you are an herbalist, simply ask yourself about your passions, your commitments, your curiosity, your path. If you’re wondering if someone else is an herbalist, simply ask them. More can be learned on your path by checking out my various programs.

Photo: Holly in 1994 volunteering at the Findhorn Foundation in Scotland