I wonder what “gatekeepers” mean for you? Someone in the IFS Drop-In brainstorming session asked me to explore gatekeeper parts—so here we are. And spoiler alert: there isn’t much written about them in the IFS literature. In our Drop-In discussions, though, there’s been real richness in how different people understand and experience gatekeepers. I’m genuinely curious.

You’ll find my notes below, and I’ve embedded a YouTube video of the talk I gave on gatekeeping to the Saturday group at the end of April 2024. I edited the video myself, with much gratitude to Michele Calverley of www.photogenic2020.com for getting me started.

Gatekeepers, for me, conjure knights in armour at the castle keep. Even if you pass them, you’ll meet the guards at the door—who may or may not admit you to the court. Some are welcomed through with warmth; others are stopped and turned away.

In modern terms, I picture a receptionist or PA filtering post and phone calls—deciding who gets access to the decision-makers, limiting interruptions and potential problems. Gatekeepers set boundaries (or put up barriers): allowing the good through, filtering some information, and blocking other viewpoints. Families can act as gatekeepers too—keeping children safe, welcoming trusted friends, and turning away perceived threats. Traditionally, in some cultures, a man would ask the family gatekeeper—often the father—for a woman’s hand in marriage.

And my favourite: there’s even a Gatekeeper butterfly (also called the hedge brown). Isn’t it gorgeous?

I looked up a definition in the dictionary, and when I translate it into IFS terms, what becomes clear is this: gatekeepers are parts that control access—whether to other parts, to our actions, or to our vulnerabilities.

I had a look through the IFS literature and podcasts. There isn’t much specifically on “gatekeepers”, though there’s plenty on challenging, extreme, or hierarchical protectors. Recommended listens: Mike Elkin on “suspicious, stubborn and dangerous parts” (https://internalfamilysystems.pt/multimedia/webinars/working-suspicious-stubborn-and-dangerous-parts-talk-mike-elkin) and on befriending extreme protectors (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGKwJ5NhjNk); Chris Burris’s “Four Types of Challenging Protectors” (https://internalfamilysystems.pt/multimedia/webinars/four-types-challenging-protectors-chris-burris); and practitioner Christine Dixon’s Ordinary Sacred videos (https://www.theordinarysacred.com/).

A curve ball: in some writing, Exiles are described as “gatekeepers to our hidden memories”, which is worth holding in mind. In this talk, though, I’m focusing on protectors.

So—are gatekeepers simply protective parts? Don’t all Managers and Firefighters “gatekeep” vulnerability—looking after us before we can feel it, or leaping in at the merest whiff?

Are they the classic defence mechanisms of other therapeutic modalities? Perhaps. What do you think?

Another thought: maybe gatekeepers are the parts that operate at a nervous-system level—the unconscious reactors that tip us into fight, flight, freeze, fawn/feign, or flop. Are these your gatekeepers? (More on polyvagal + IFS here: https://www.stroudtherapy.com/news/polyvagalandifs)

So I kept exploring through an IFS lens. I’m drawn to Martha Sweezy’s shame cycle—are your gatekeepers the parts that won’t let you see the vulnerable, burdened children behind the curtain? The Inner Critic and the Anticipatory Scouts; the pleasure/“take-you-out” team; the Warrior Mutiny—parts that blame others or pick fights as a distraction to keep vulnerability at bay. I love her book IFS: Shame and Guilt and highly recommend it. We covered the shame cycle at a Drop-In—if you’d like to read/watch/listen, it’s here: https://www.stroudtherapy.com/news/shameifs.

The diagram below is one I sketched and that Made Wirawan crystallised for me.

So… in conversation with folks, in my own system, and with clients, I’ve realised we’re still very much exploring this. Think of it as a first-ideas paper where each of us looks inside to see what’s true in our system. Take what resonates and leave the rest—I’m not the expert here; I’m bringing it for discussion and for curiosity about what’s happening in your inner world. Ask inside, ask inside… what’s going on for you will likely differ from what’s going on for me.

What I see as gatekeepers in me are the specific parts whose primary aim is to stop me doing something—shutting me down, preventing me from taking action. They have a distinct filtering, defensive role: they don’t trust others, and they don’t yet trust me (Self) to lead the system. When they feel safe enough, they’ll allow some knowledge, situations, sensations, and thoughts through, but they’re superb as a first, second, or even third line of defence. At some point—probably very early—these parts lost trust in Self’s ability to protect the system and concluded they had to take over.

I’ve also noticed a hierarchy of gatekeepers. For example, I have one that feels ever-present—my Gatekeeper. She’s so unconscious and yet I’m getting to know her: she restricts my breathing so it’s barely visible. I sense she formed in response to my mum’s heavy drinking and activated parts when I was in utero. Bodyworkers and therapists often note I don’t breathe as we’re designed to. Her intentions are excellent—defending against intrusion and impingement, guarding me from emotion, vulnerability, and shock—but the impact on my life has been considerable. Just behind her sits a hypervigilant gatekeeper who tries to forestall negative surprises: “We won’t get hurt or fail. We won’t be oblivious or naïve again.” She’s anticipatory, physical, hard to ignore, alarmed about imagined catastrophes, and full of warnings—checking everything before allowing other parts to move forward.

I also want to name types of parts and polarisations. We’ve looked at polarisations before: https://www.stroudtherapy.com/news/internalpolarisations. Here’s Cece Sykes’ Triangle, adapted heavily by me to represent gatekeepers (she presents the inverted triangle with Managers and Firefighters above the line as protectors, and Exiles below the line).

Managers often bring us to therapy, into relationships, to answer a job advert, or simply out of the house. And then… something filters that impulse, raises the drawbridge, and protects the system from change. For some of us (and it can depend on who we’re with and what’s happening), a Manager–Manager polarisation kicks in: one part wants to move; another, a hard-working gatekeeping manager, stops it.

In me, for example, the hypervigilant part and my brilliant thinking–analytical–sceptical parts once deemed IFS “too good to be true”: “Working with exiles? Shamanic rituals? Transmuting burdens by air/water/fire/earth—really?” So I researched like mad. Once satisfied, they let me through to the next level. Their gatekeeping had been in service of safety: “No risks with our vulnerable ones until we’ve checked for danger.” It’s worth repeating: some gatekeepers work in teams and hierarchies—keeping people out, or keeping me in; holding boundaries; keeping me from seeing others’ pain (or the ways I hurt others). A few folks in Drop-In named something vital: some protectors gatekeep information and memory (not only exiles). Ask inside: Who has an explicit gatekeeping role? You may find a sequence—like passing successive gates in a castle—or parts that slam the gate at the faintest whiff of vulnerability (a live polarisation).

(A quick nuance: some parts can function as managers or firefighters—a way of life vs. a reactive move. Dissociation and drinking, for instance, may show up in either lane depending on context. If your mind gets tangled here, breathe—whatever the lane, they’re all protectors.)

Now to reactive, firefighting gatekeepers. Does this feel familiar? One part books the therapy, or dials a friend… and another gatekeeper blitzes in at the doorway: freeze, blank, dissociate—“We’re not going.” On Cece Sykes’ upside-down triangle, this is a Manager vs. Gatekeeping Firefighter loop. These parts can be like an over-sensitive smoke alarm: the tiniest ember of feeling and—clang—shutdown.

What about procrastination? Often it’s a gatekeeper dynamic: one part driven and urgent; another angry at being pushed—or simply intent on rest. I find it helpful to ask, “What’s this delay trying to protect me from?” The “no” may be carrying wisdom about pacing, resourcing, or shame-avoidance.

A note on neurodivergence and “anti-gatekeepers”

Some of us (AUDHD/ADHD autistics, PDA/EDA traits, etc.) also have impulsive or monotropic parts that blow past the gate—hyperfocus, crash in, no planning, ignore body needs. Equally, demand-avoidant responses can make a task impossible the moment it’s requested. Is this a trait or a part? Often it’s both/and. Try the IFS test: ask inside, “Do you have a job? How old are you? Who do you protect?” If there’s no “part-ness” (no age/story/role), it may be more neurological; still, we can resource it system-wide.

Monotropism can also act as a super-gatekeeper—laser-focusing on one stream and filtering all else. That can be protective and productive; it can also exhaust the rest of the system. Curiosity first, labels later.

Working with gatekeeping protectors

As always: unblending, unblending, unblending. Then:

Find & Focus. How does this gatekeeper arrive—voice, image, body sensation, impulse (fight/flight/fawn/freeze/flop)?
Flesh it out. When do you show up? In which contexts/relationships? What’s your best hope for me? What are you afraid would happen if you didn’t do this?
Befriend. Appreciate the historical logic: at some point this made exquisite sense. Ask who they work with (teams/hierarchy) and who they protect.
Negotiate. “Would you try a tiny experiment?” (two minutes, then we debrief). Titrate. Build evidence that Self can hold the baton.

A few extras you might find useful (add what fits, ignore the rest):

Consent/Boudary gatekeepers: parts that say a clear “no” to unsafe people/topics. Often wise; they need inclusion in planning.
Somatic gatekeepers: fatigue, pain, breath-holding that prudently slow the system. Try curious tracking before fixing.
Relational gatekeepers: attachment-style protectors (de-activating or hyper-activating) that throttle intimacy to tolerable doses.
Cultural/legacy gatekeepers: “In our family we don’t…” inherited rules that filter risk, voice, joy. (Great to pair with legacy work.)
Contextual gating: time-of-day, environment, sensory load as switches. (Morning cortisol spikes; noise/light; transitions.)
Information gatekeepers: amnesia walls, fog, “I forget the whole thing.” Go slow, orient, and invite co-regulation.

Questions that often help

What exactly do you stop, and under what conditions?
What signal tells you it’s time to gatekeep?
What would let you relax 5%? What proof would you need from me?
If your job were assisted (not removed), how would you prefer to help?

A word to sceptical parts. They’re heroic. As Martha Sweezy suggests, invite them to treat IFS as a laboratory: they don’t have to believe—just observe results. In my system, small, well-scaffolded experiments built trust; Self became more visible; the work deepened. Your sceptics are welcome.

Conclusion

Gatekeepers aren’t the enemy—they’re precision filters that once kept you safe and often still do. Mapping their hierarchies, contexts, and polarities reveals why momentum stalls, why you blank, why you bolt, and why you sometimes barrel ahead. When we meet these parts with real appreciation, negotiate tiny experiments, and show—again and again—that Self can lead, gatekeepers naturally evolve: from rigid sentries into wise sentinels who pace, protect, and partner with you. That’s the harmony we’re after: a system where every role is respected, the drawbridge lowers and raises with discernment, and you move through the world with more choice, ease, and Self-led confidence.