Reclaiming Economies of Care: Valuing the Hands that Sustain Us

When people think about the economy, they usually talk about money, jobs, and markets. They share ideas about production and growth, but that narrow perception overlooks the full story, especially when it comes to the care and time it takes to harvest plants for natural wellness products.

Before anything is created or sold, there is time spent gaining the knowledge to harvest respectfully, learning protocols, spending time with Elders or Knowledge Keepers, building relationships with plant relatives, and of course the actual time spent being out on the land gathering.

Harvesters walk carefully through the forest, observing what is ready and what needs more time. They face risks, from intense heat and swarms of mosquitoes to the presence of bears. Their hands harvest with care, guided by protocols that protect and sustain plants for generations to come. They stop to offer gratitude and remember that what they are taking has a spirit and a purpose just like each of us.

This is care. It takes learning, skill, and courage. It requires listening and good intentions.

Nän sóthän ka nahʼté.  (We take care of the land.)

Yet this work is rarely recognized in the way economies currently measure value.

In our Northern Tutchone community, harvesting is always guided by protocol. You do not just take and extract. You ask. You introduce yourself and offer something in return, whether that is tobacco, a prayer in our language, or a moment of gratitude.

While often described as cultural or spiritual, these practices also hold economic value, especially in a world where people rely on income to survive. Through a business lens, they regulate how resources are used, ensure sustainability, and protect future supply.

That is what a functioning economy is supposed to do. The difference is that this new system we are trying to work towards is built on relationship instead of extraction.

This knowledge is usually carried by Elders, aunties, and grandmothers who have spent time learning the land.

They teach when a plant is ready, how to harvest without damaging them, how to prepare medicines in a good way, and how to understand each plant’s gift. They pass on language that is tied directly to the land, where a single word can hold layers of meaning about place, season, and relationship. Sitting with an Elder and listening is active participation in knowledge transfer. Without that, we risk losing our protocols and our ecosystems.

This kind of work is rarely named as economic activity. Yet even within current systems, we see glimpses of its value. Statistics Canada has shown that unpaid work (primarily provided by women) including food preparation, caregiving, and subsistence activities, contributes billions of dollars in value each year. On average women earn 23% less than men globally. What often goes uncounted within that is land-based work like harvesting, which feeds families and supports health.

The reality is simple. Without this work, many communities would not function in the way they do today.

Harvesting is also a form of care that extends beyond the present moment. When someone takes only what they need and leaves enough for regeneration, they are making a decision about the future. When they bring youth along and teach them, they are ensuring that the knowledge continues.

This is what a regenerative economy looks like in practice. It does not separate people from the land or from each other. It understands that sustained economies come from balance.

The current system is built on the idea that resources are unlimited. It prioritizes growth without accounting for what is being depleted. But the land has limits. Biologists, ecologists, and environmental scientists describe plants as finite resources. Our plant allies require time, care, and respect to regenerate in a good way.

Women, especially aunties and grandmothers, often hold this system of care together without naming it as leadership.

But it is leadership and their work should be honoured and supported fairly.

Reclaiming an economy of care means recognizing that these matrilineal systems have always existed. It means understanding that time spent harvesting, learning protocols, and listening to Elders is not extra or optional. It is essential work that sustains life.

If this kind of care were fully recognized, our idea of the economy would completely shift.

Harvesting is a growing economy. In Canada, the natural health products market was valued at about $6.2 billion in 2023 and is expected to keep growing steadily. This shift shows that people want products that support their well-being, that are sourced with care, and that come from the land. What is often missing is an understanding of the care, time, and knowledge that make these products possible. Our Regenerative Economies team is working to change that. We want people to know the true foundation of natural remedies and recognize the value that they hold.

As demand grows, so does the responsibility to know where these plants come from and the care that sustains them. 

Reflection Questions: 

What would our economy look like if care was counted?

What responsibility do we carry knowing the land has limits?